Monthly Archive for May, 2010

Roughage for the Dot Point Diarrhea

Published on May 31, 2010 in Beloved, Books n Stuff, Married Life and Pop Culture. 7 Comments
  • When I was younger, I had the idea that ‘electronic’ music wasn’t real. This was all pre NKOTB of course. I guess I felt that if the song couldn’t be played without  the use of power then it wasn’t proper. Who knew I was some sort of weird sort of music hippie/elitist?
  • I watched  West Side Story (Mariaaaaaaaaaaaa!) on the weekend at the insistence of my mum. It was really cool. I didn’t realise how many of the songs I knew, the costumes were gorgeous and the choreography timeless. Now, I haven’t read this anywhere but Michael Jackson was obviously influence heavily by this musical, right? I could see him all over it in terms of the dance style, the too-short pants, the silences with the clicking and weird calls (a la Smooth Criminal)…Ooh – found ‘proof’ – have a watch!
  • My new Mary Jane Doc Martens make me  little pigeon toed because I walk differently in them to avoid them digging in to my ankles. Kinda scary how easily your whole gait can be put off by shoes that aren’t comfortable.
  • Right at this moment I am trying to make rice pudding in the slow cooker. I will let you know how that works out.
  • On Wednesday Beloved and I will be celebrating 11 years together.

Okay non-book lovers, don’t bother reading any further……..

  • I read Now by Morris Gleitzman and had a good bawl. (Now follows Once and Then – two books in which we meet Zelda and Felix who stick together through thick and thin in Nazi Germany.) In Now we meet Zelda, the namesake of her grandfather Felix’s childhood friend. In this story Zelda deals with absent parents, Felix’s painful memories and being bullied. Gleitzman uses images of the Victorian Bush fires that are evocative of the holocaust, in a touching and haunting manner. A lovely tribute to the story of Zelda and Felix as told in Once and Then. (Then contains one of my favourite lines in a book ever: ‘If he sees a Nazi he can just do a poo!’)
  • I am also on a bit of a Scott Westerfeld spree. I loved Peeps and I read So Yesterday recently. I like how he takes ‘radical’ ideas and pitches them at teenagers – it feels like he simultaneously trying to teach them and is also pulling the piss. I enjoyed how Pretties (second book in the Uglies trilogy) seems to be  looking to the emo culture and how teens of today are so overstimulated and deadened that they need pain and pills to feel again.
  • Okay – one more book thing. I read Liar by Justine Labalestier too (She and Westerfeld are a couple I believe). Some people have said it was the best book they have ever read. I wanted to throw it across the room when I got to the ‘twist’. Up until that point I was absolutely hooked – the story was mysterious, engrossing, strange and sexy. Micah is a self-confessed liar with a family illness and attends a progressive New York school. It is there that she meets Zach, who takes an interest in the androgynous, weird Micah. When he is murdered Micah is shattered. When  I got to the twist I  was ‘you have GOT to be shitting me!’ Also, while I liked the unreliable narrator I am not keen on the ‘did I or didn’t I’ quadruple switch – it was then to me that Micah lost her power and credibilty……………5 minutes later. Now that I think about it – if I think of the twist as linked with the narrator it is maybe not so annoying. I mean, it might not be true, right?

Yes, We Say Shit

Published on May 25, 2010 in Teaching. 9 Comments

     ‘Alright, check your emails. I have sent you your tasks for today.’

     ‘Miiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiss’ they whine, ‘Why can’t you just tell us what we have to do?’

     ‘Hang on!’ I respond ‘The fact that you don’t listen to me when I try and speak to you is one of the reasons I have decided to email you your work for the day from now on. Plus in real life your boss doesn’t stand at the front of a room  and tell you what to do, every 5 minutes.’

     One of my classes is a group of 17 year olds who are considered students at educational risk. Yeah. If risk means unmotivated/dopey/lazy. I do generally like them, and there are some gems in there but they definitely have their moments. Like today. While a workman did something workmanish up a ladder in the class, the kids discussed the local pizza shop. They apparently have the wood-fired variety.

     ‘I had a kangaroo pizza from there. It was nice till I found out it was kangaroo – yuck!’ said C.

     ‘Kangaroo?’ says Princess ‘That is gross. I love chicken pizza.’

     ‘No way!’ yells Short Fuse Boy ‘Kangaroo shits all over chicken.’

     I glance up from my desk to see Workman at the top of the ladder biting his lip. I look over at Short Fuse Boy and ask:

    ‘So, how does kangaroo shit all over chicken? I mean, does the chicken sit still long enough?’ The workman is shaking with silent laughter at this point.

    ‘What?’ asks Short Fuse Boy, catching up slowly. ‘Yeah – well,’ he says getting it. ‘The kangaroo poos as it jumps over the chicken.’ He is pleased with himself and the workman shakes his head.

     It’s what you pay tax for, people.

Driving Past a Guy Doing Push-Ups on the Kerb

Published on May 24, 2010 in Fighting the Fat and Teaching. 4 Comments

     ‘Go away! You are so embarrassing,’ huffs the girl, walking ahead.

     ‘Yeah – piss off!’ Her sister flicks her long, dark plait over her shoulder and hefts her school bag so it sits more comfortably on her back.

     Their brother ignores them and jogs past, his breath coming in jagged, visible puffs. He jabs at the air, ducks and weaves.  The girls sigh and shake their heads as he speeds towards a tree across the park. When he reaches it he lies down and does his sit-ups at a frantic rate, his arms triangled behind his head. Though the morning is brisk, sweat beads on his olive skinned forehead.

     When the clunky soled shoes of his sisters amble past his up-and-down head he leaps up and runs high-kneed circles around the them. When they start to scuff and glare he lopes back to the sit-up tree and counts out his 100 jumping jacks.

     ‘He looks like such a  retard. Why can’t he just walk like a normal person?’

     ‘Multi-tasking!’ comes the breathless yell from the tree.

     ‘Bad enough he has to baby sit us to the bloody bus stop. It’s like 100 metres away from home!’

     The girls stop and drop their bags on the sad concrete slab, embedded with the orange metal pole, asking passengers to signal the driver to stop. One of them retrieves a small mirror and wand of sticky lip gloss, applying it away from her mother’s prying eyes. The other braves the chill air, hoiking up her jumper so she can get at her skirt waist-band, rolling it up.

     By the time their brother pounds up to them, the make up is away and skirt straightened. He gives the girls a wry glance before using the curb to do his push-ups. Breathing in on the down, out on the up, only pausing when he hears the ancient bus lurching towards them through the misty morning. The girls roll their eyes, heave up their bags and smooth themselves down, ready for a new day.

Never Trust a Quiet Classroom

Published on May 16, 2010 in Teaching. 8 Comments

‘My son never did it.’ says Mrs P.

‘Neither did my brothers.’ agreed Mrs M.

‘Or my son.’ chimed in Mrs K.

‘So is it just this generation of boys that feels the need to rearrange their nuts in front of us?’ Grumpy wondered.

‘Hang on!’ said Mrs K, her eyes widening in fear ‘Is there anyone in that room?’ She nodded to the normally occupied room, adjacent to the English department common area.

‘Nah!’ Grumpy scoffed ‘couldn’t possibly be – it is way too quiet.’

They all stopped talking, ears cocked towards the door of the naughtiest year 10 maths class, last period on a Thursday. Usually there was a cacophony of door slams, shouts, and people climbing out of windows.

Not a peep.

The teachers, having finished their English Department meeting, smelling the weekend in the air, shrugged and continued their lively conversation.

‘Why don’t these parents tell their kids to get their hands off their privates?’ asked Grumpy.

‘I know!’ said Mrs M ‘They will be standing right in front of you, while you are at your desk and they will just casually fondle the jewels. You tell them to cut it out and they don’t even know they are doing it!’

‘ “But Miss!” said Grumpy impersonating one of her students, after giving him a pointed look when seeing his hands down his pants, “my nuts are stuck to me leg!” ‘

‘What kind of undies are they bloody wearing for THAT to happen?’ hooted Mrs P.

‘Ewwwwwwwwwwwwwww!’ they all chorused and then – a sound.

They froze.

‘I’m checking it’ said Mrs K, as the rest of them raised eyebrows in anticipation.

She quietly got up and gently, silently opened the door. Through the merest slit they saw the miraculous and inexplicable – 30 bent over heads, working hard on their maths equations. She gently closed the door with a mouthed ‘oh shit’ and they all scurried in silent mirth back to their desks, pretending the rooms are more sound proof than they really are.

Why I Think I liked ‘Inglourious Basterds’ So Much

Published on May 12, 2010 in Pop Culture and Teaching. 12 Comments

She sits at her lap top wanting to tell you something interesting, poignant or funny. Something that will make you nod or smile or sigh. But instead she thinks about how she has coffee breath and is marinading in her gym clothes, goose-bumps forming on her arms as she cools down to match the Autumn dusk.

Before she showers, puts a load of washing in, tackles the crusty oven tray from 2 nights ago, makes her lunch and packs her gym bag she thinks about the lesson she is team teaching tomorrow with Resident Eccentric Teacher. The students are learning about the holocaust. She got some books out of the library, read them. Felt distressed looking at the grainy images of smiling women in line for food. She always wonders, where is the justice?  

If it were you, you would hope that those responsible would pay. But in the end what justice, or vengeance, was there? Would you have to believe in hell, to not implode with the agonising frustration of it all?

It makes her sad. Especially for her grandma with her little sister and their shaved heads, marching through the snow – a story that she wishes she knew better.

Mother’s Day

Published on May 9, 2010 in Cranky/Dopey Bitch, Lazy Bitch and Queen Me. 8 Comments

It is Mother’s Day here in Australia and it has been a success all round I think. She came over for her favourite McDonalds breakfast (hotcakes and a sausage and egg McMuffin), with the Mother-in-law. Flowers, cards, chocolate and cash were involved.

It feels, to me at least, that my mum is in a good place and I am really pleased with that. It has been this way since at least March and I am hoping this is more of a plateau than a mountain with a steep drop. She has been doing some paid odd jobs for me and other friends, visited my sis in Karratha and is working towards a Certificate II in Horticulture. She is getting some good help and seems to be learning a lot about herself which is keeping her even.

This is the mum I miss when she’s gone. The one who gets so excited about buying me an awesome jacket for $5 at the op-shop. The one who is keen and motivated and tough and goofy and funny. Perhaps it is selfish of me to like this lady better than the other one who is not as easy to love – the one that is sad and dark and dragging and illogical and lonely.

On the flip side I haven’t seen my dad since March. It is weird and stand-offish. Well – in my mind since we actually haven’t had a falling out or spoken. There was a misunderstanding over my birthday plans. A silly one that I feel bad about but also feel a bit put out about. I wanted a hassle free b’day. To get it I didn’t do anything with the family. Just a quiet dinner with Beloved and I. Dad was upset about this. Which I only found out via someone else. I addressed it via sms (real mature I know) And now it has gone too far. Or not. I don’t know. I suppose I should call.

It is easy to fight with my mum. We scream and ignore and bitch and then we are fine. There is routine.

There is no precedent with dad cos it never happens. It is really rather unsettling.

Here She Bloody Goes Again

Published on May 4, 2010 in Beloved and Fighting the Fat. 16 Comments

May 6th is the date of our high school ball. I knew I wasn’t going to fit into any of my current dresses without a shoe-horn and tearful recriminations so I decided to go shopping. At a wanky department store. I know – I never learn.

I stood in the French Connection section holding a dress when the sapling toothpick disguised as a shop assisstant came to assist me.

‘Hmmm, I have got the 12′ I said holding it up to myself, wondering if I should get another size.

‘Oh well, we don’t have the 14′ said the girl.

I nearly died. Right there. Size fourteen. FOURTEEN? (I couldn’t use numerals there cos I couldn’t capitalise them) Smarmy little bitch! I know I am not skinny.  At 5 ft 2 in I have curves. I could tone up a bit…lot. But I have a wiggle in my walk as opposed to a waddle. I am fit-ish and strong-ish.  However I die a little inside when I see my slim friend looking mega cute in the jeans I gave her, not comprehending that they ever fit me.

10 years ago I weighed 50kgs (110 pounds). I moved up to 52 and I thought ‘Ooh, I better try and hang around here.’ Then I moved up to 55kgs. I was devastated at that and upped the exercise regime. But for the past 2 years I have fought a war between 56-58kgs. The 58 (127 pounds)  is beating me up, telling me I am unattractive and a loser and why the hell can’t  you eat properly – why do you know what to do but can’t do it? You are intelligent enough to figure it out.

But then again if that were the case, Oprah wouldn’t be waging her battles, would she?

PS: The size 12 was too big. In your face toothpick chick!

PPS: What makes it ‘worse’ is that Beloved has hotted up. He has lost HEAPS of weight and is buffing it up at the gym. When he was all unfit and shit I always looked smaller than him so it didn’t matter. Not so much the case anymore.

PPPS: For our US readers: Australian size 10 = US 6, Aus 12 = US 8, Aus 14 = US 10