You see, the problem with choice, in my case, is that I'm not very good at choosing. I feel bad for inanimate objects.

So here are my options.

Mark all essays first.
Mark all compres first.
Mark one batch of essays alternated with one batch of compres.

And then there's which batch should I start with. Seeing as I must MUST return it to the kids by (eek.) tomorrow.

How many dogs does it take to change a lightbulb?

Golden Retriever: The sun is shining, the day is young, we've got our whole lives ahead of us, and you're inside worrying about a stupid burned out bulb?

Border Collie: Just one. And then I'll replace any wiring that's not up to code.

Dachshund: You know I can't reach that stupid lamp!

Rottweiler: Make me.

Boxer: Who cares? I can still play with my squeaky toys in the dark.

Lab: Oh, me, me!!!!! Pleeeeeeeeeze let me change the light bulb! Can I? Can I? Huh? Huh? Huh? Can I? Pleeeeeeeeeze, please, please, please!

German Shepherd: I'll change it as soon as I've led these people from the dark, check to make sure I haven't missed any, and make just one more perimeter patrol to see that no one has tried to take advantage of the situation.

Jack Russell Terrier: I'll just pop it in while I'm bouncing off the walls and furniture.

Old English Sheep Dog: Light bulb? I'm sorry, but I don't see a light bulb?

Cocker Spaniel: Why change it? I can still pee on the carpet in the dark.

Chihuahua: Yo quiero Taco Bulb.

Pointer: I see it, there it is, there it is, right there ...

Greyhound: It isn't moving. Who cares?

Australian Shepherd: First, I'll put all the light bulbs in a little circle ...

Poodle: I'll just blow in the Border Collie's ear and he'll do it. By the time he finishes rewiring the house, my nails will be dry.

The Cat's Answer: "Dogs do not change light bulbs. People change light bulbs. So, the real question is: How long will it be before I can expect some light, some dinner, and a massage?"





Teehee.

Ok back to marking.

So I have a dream.

And in this dream we're actually doing something. Not talking about it, or wishing we were, or thinking about it, but doing something. And not on our own, subject to mood swings, bad judgement or lack of commitment, but with a mentor. A director who knows what he's talking about, and wants to give us that knowledge too.

We choose songs because they add to the Mass, not take away from. We play and sing to add to worship, not distract from. We worship.

We aren't just singing and playing. We are moving and changing. There's more to this Mass than a different type of songs. There is continuity, we look forward to the next.

We don't need to be avant-garde. Or to impress anyone. We serve in humility, and in the knowledge of Christ's Church's teachings.

We are spontaneous. Hierachy and its redtape exists only as much as we allow it to. We work organically, each person at least aware of the other. But we maintain a sense of awe, and the sacredness of the Mass is not compromised.

We aren't just about the music. We learn about our Faith. We learn about each other. We form a Christian community, where Christian is emphasised. We don't make fun of differences or weaknesses, or insist on conformity. Healthy relationships flourish.

We come from all over, all the Parishes. We are small, mobile and focused. We have a mission, and spread it. We are flexible, because our raison d'etre is the mission, not a person. Leaders are nurtured and given a chance. We keep our eyes on Christ.

We want to inflame, and ignite. We want to live the Truth. We want others to say, "Look at how they love each other". We want to be witnesses, just by being.

~

In exactly a month's time, it'll be the first day of Trinity's International Freshers' Week. And for the next three years, there won't be the permanancy common sense tells me is necessary to make dreams become reality. But almost nothing that's happened in my spiritual life thus far is common sense, and so I hold on to the hope that that isn't a mere dream.

Thus breaks the 3 month long spell of parched, starved, indifferent spirituality.

For as long as I shall live, I will testify to Love.

Sugar we're going down swingin'

Insightful, revolutionary conclusion of the day: Kissing is Therapeutic.

In other news:

I am officially panicked, because I've not read ANYTHING on anyone's english booklist. In fact, I havn't read anything, period, in the last 8 months.

I've got 4 days left of actual teaching. I forsee missing this, a lot.

I need more than 24 hours in a day, and more than 7 days in a week. Although, knowing me, that's still not going to be enough.

It's all about me, innit.


Edit: Do you think the kids might accept 'my dog ate your homework'? Sigh.

Finally!

"You have now been allocated to a Tutor who will be writing to you shortly.

Trinity College Admissions"

Woooooot I'm going they love me they didn't forget me I wasn't a horrible administrative mistake!











Ohhhhh gawd I havn't even finished Chaucer, don't own Paradise Lost, havn't touched Shakespear in three quarters of a year, and havn't finished a book (ANY book) from cover to cover since...I don't remember when!






ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

Procrastinating (again)

Derek: You alright?
Meredith: I have a feeling.
Derek: I get those.
Meredith: Yeah?
Derek: Yeah.
Meredith: And?
Derek: If you wait long enough it passes.
Meredith: You promise?
Derek: I promise.

I love Gray's Anatomy.

On that point though, I've been getting 'feelings' lately. Poor shaun and shane can attest to that :p I think it's the realisation that:

1. I've got just over a month till I leave, and I havn't quite recognised the reality of that.

2. 2 weeks till the end of gp@tj. Mixed feelings about that...relieved that I survived, but sad about leaving. I learned helluva lot.

3. I'm STILL boy-less.

Depressing stuff, really.

But life rockz. Honest to goodness it does.

I want a letter from caaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaam.

Bums, the lot of you.

At 10.30 am today, (bear in mind, please, that 10.30 is MORE than past half-morningness) I called EIGHT people, all (except one, who's phone, annoyingly enough, is always on silent in the mornings and therefore claims inculpability for his non-response) of whom brusquely and gruffly turned down a lunch date with yours truly, because they loved their BED more.

*sulk.

Edit: I lurrrrrrrrrrrve toot and she loves me toooooooooooooooooooo. Yay. I'm gonna go change now. Bwaha.

Here we go.

"Men can never get pregnant like women."






























You don't say.

Reality

With a dozen roses.

Relativity

The most romantic thing anyone could do for me right now, is to buy a box of tissue and put it on my desk.

Hungover

No I havn't been drinking, but this is probably how it feels like. My brain feels like cotton wool, I've got a throbbing pain under my right eye, everything's a little hazy and all I want to do is put my head back down and sleep.

Which I can't, because previously-mentioned-bald-notbadatflirting colleague will throw a cushion at me. Again.

And no Shane, there's nothing I'm smoking you could possibly have.

Miffed at a class which bargains for a week's extension of a deadline and then ignores it.

I love National Day, for more than the normal patriotic (I am, ok) reasons this time round. Half day tomorrow, public holiday on wednesday, and bliss! School holiday on Thursday. (Hehe. Yes Shaun you may be almost midweek, but there's no way you can beat a 2seperatedby3holidaysworkingdayweek.)

Gahhhh my head hurts. Sleeping at 3am was probably not very intelligent. And asmuchas I think I wouldnt have been able to sleep earlier, I probably would've, if I had lied down. But I guess everyone needs some brooding time. Now that I've discovered the reason for the brooding (and anxietyattacks) things have taken a (psychological) upturn.

There are too many parenthesis(es? parentheses?) in this entry.

OH but I did ONE productive thing during the weekend. I catalogued ALL the books I owned, and checked if I had read all of them. I had, and also discovered that a lot of books I have read I didn't own. And most of my book-reading happened in KC, less due to the literary culture there than to the fact that I just couldn't do any more significant reading after. For FOUR YEARS. And here I am, off to do an English degree in Cam. And I havn't read anything particularly impressive since I was SIXTEEN. This would normally be the point in the entry where I vow to go home and finish the Wife of Bath, or start on Paradise Lost (which I was supposed to buy but didn't), but my realism (yes, it does show up now and then) tells me with the kind of consciousness I'm currently in possession off, read:barelyinpossession, that would hardly be possible, let alone plausible.

And as such, there are a few things left to say, before I go back to doing what I'm supposed to be doing.

Toot: Next month, that fish place, ok?
Vid: You ARE decent you little idiot. MORE than decent. If you aren't decent where does that leave ME?
Shane: 3 days. Starbucks.
Shaun: I've got 2 days of work this week lalalaalalalalalaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
Jinx: let's go out. soon. with libbo.
sy: tomorrowwwwwwwwww. and i love you too.
Veera: After much consideration, I've come to the candid conclusion (oooh alliteration) that it is NOT my fault. *scowl.
Irwin: there you go. mentioned by name.
Marko: Cookieeeeeeeeeeee.
Aaron: I demand to know why I'm not in your will. I put up with you for FOUR YEARS, and I'm not in your will. I am HURT. DISTRAUGHT. DAMAGED BEYOND REPAIR. DESTROYED. SHATTERED. ETC. And thus you're treating come Tuesday.
Ajyt: Bahhh floorball. Scowl. You get to treat me too then.

Umm. I don't think anyone else reads this blog. Which is quite sad. But there we go. C'est la vie. Nowww to marking.

So you sailed away into a grey sky morning

Sometimes the treacherous heart is yours. When you're idling, just sitting, waiting. And then a sudden rush of fear, out of nowhere, for absolutely no reason. Paranoia, I told the kids, is an unreasonable fear. But unreasonable is not the same as having no reason. Not exactly. Having no reason doesn't mean having no basis. There is a basis...a possible reason for the fear. But it's all what if. "I ask myself what if, consider the consequences, decide whether they're worth it, then never look back." So I say.

And in the train, an overpowering sense of alone-ness. A capsule I'm in the middle of. A bubble. Ignored, ignoring. Watching, watched. Unnecessary. Irrelevant. Just another curiosity.

Sitting in a darkened room, watching 3 girls bring to life what's in their minds, I wonder why I gave it up. Without more than a second thought. Without a fight. Like I did dance. And ballet. Even music, to a point. More of my regrets are not of giving things up, but of never even fighting for them.

Yet what point, this fighting. The reason for giving up sounds reasonable. Sensible. Pragmatic. The Best Thing At This Point. A solution. "I'm only sensible cuz I'm scared." Of making the Wrong Decision. Of being maverick. Of being a disappointment, even.

That hasn't stopped it, though, has it? Wrong Decisions are still made. Accusations of rebellion still thrown. And many times, I know, a disappointment.

But what point this, fighting.

"Why wait for true love," you say. "Nobody else waits. Why lose out?" And again, "Why think about all that? Why don't you just do what you feel like, and let people say what they want to?" This, when I tell you there are people I could fall truly madly deeply crazily in love with, only, I won't. Because. And I answer, I don't know. And you say, "You're gonna end up an old maid", and I laugh, but I fear too. Because I want, no, need, to love.

So 'Bright Lights' plays. And I remember 3 bands. One, the first time I ever played it. Heard and practiced two hours before the gig. Two, an ad lib thing, on a friend's stage. Three, with a band I can't imagine living without. Except that this month I will. So that next month, at least once, I'll be living within.

Ever noticed how, when you're in a certain kind of mood, everything is touched with a certain tinge of something? How there's this poignancy in words, rawness in songs, stillness in objects, reticence in self.


Baby baby baby
when all your love is gone
who will save me
from all i'm up against in this world

ben and jerrys

or lime sorbet. or vanilla ice cream or cheesecake. maybe a blueberry muffin. i might settle for banana though. cookies? COOKIE DOUGH. brownies. or cupcakes!

soya bean?




chin chow?




it's no fun when nobody's entertaining your cravings. *sulk.

Of hellos, goodbyes and seeyousoons

There've been more than I can count this year, and more to come. New places, new faces, new phases. It's funny how every hello is corollory with a goodbye, even if you don't know it yet. Every new friend marking a shift in the arrangement of the existing circle of friends, so that some are pushed back, some forward, and some just slightly to the side. All of us jostling (some less subtly than others "i want lunch.") for time and attention and love. The teasing that holds a faint hint of sullen accusation "yeah yeah, you're either at a practice or at a gig", and the accusations outright "you always say soon". And the realisation that, damn, it's august.

So here's how the rest of the month reads. This week I give back essays. Next week I give back compres. The week after that I give back another batch of essays, and the week after that their last batch of compres for the term. In between I meet the best friend (tomorrow tomorrow tomorrow!), alice and totsy, vid and the boys, aaron and ps, hopefully mp10, go for kids' carn, go for 2 freshers' parties, go for confluence 2006, go for class95's movies at the padang, go to zazu's sister's wedding, write a play AND finish all the chaucer I can.

Weeks whiz by.

And I've mastered the art of procrastinating with minimum guilt.

Which is baaaaaaad.

This month I WILL read "The Confessions of Max Tivoli". Because I've fallen in love with the first line: "We are each the love of someone's life."

Isn't that amazing. Think about it. That statement doesn't pre-require ANYTHING. It doesn't require us to love that someone back, or even to know who the someone is. It doesn't even require that someone to know it. It just says what it means. We are each the love of someone's life. Each of us. The love of a life. Yours, maybe, or mine. We may never find out who's. But it doesn't matter, because we are, regardless. It's a beautiful thing to hear.

you're the love of someone's life