Well, we survived.
Tropical Cyclone Damien came crashing through Karratha on Friday night, stayed around the town like a biker gang in a 70s Ozploitation movie for most of Saturday, and made its exit in time for us to break out the shovels and chainsaws Sunday afternoon to engage in the long and dispiriting task of cleaning up.
Continue reading “CYCLONE DAMIEN”
Writing remains dead. Teaching eats everything; I spend most of my spare time creating resources, marking, or just plain dealing with the steepness of the learning curve that comes from being out of a game for twenty-five years. There’s a writing group in town: Luscious and I went to it a few times, but haven’t been in something like 9 months. We’re talking about going back, just to get in touch with the joy of words. Watch this space. Or, if you care about the outcome, maybe don’t…
Weight loss has tapered off in a major way. See above for the reasons why. I’m still under 100kgs, which is a good thing, and trying to fit workouts into the gaps. Call it maintenance rather than loss, perhaps. I have still lost centimetres, which is positive, and my chest has gained half a centimetre of muscle where there was once only fat. It’s a long haul. I’m still hauling.
The Lego remains in the cupboard. Time, community, opportunity to display are all lacking. But Luscious and I have just swapped offices because reasons, and mine now has a Great Big Giant Table ™, so possiblymaybeperhaps I’ll have a chance to get it all out and noodle around with some pieces just for fun. We’ll see.
Life decisions have been decisioned. We like it here. There are opportunities for us. We’ll be staying for at least another three years.
Have I missed anything?
So, it’s over. Tropical Cyclone Veronica became Very Strong Wind Veronica, and finally, Was That It? Veronica. Port Hedland was battered to within an inch of improvement, Wickham and Roeburne received a bloody good wash, and Karratha lost a few trees and spread an awful lot of leaves about to be the mulch of the future.
As to us, we evacuated from our house because we were advised that our house was likely to be flooded, and spent three nights camped out on air beds on the floor of our local indoor basketball courts, surrounded by as much food as we could cram into two eskies, a veritable fort of water bottles, and the hacking coughs and sneezes of 60 or so other people who received the same advice… only to return home and find that up the half a dozen of our emergency sandbags had become partially moist.
I make light, of course. This is the blog of a bitter and broken curmudgeon. News sites start to the left.
But, we’re okay, the house survived, we’re all back at work and school and regular service is resumed. So, on that note, I shall resume my position of rough radio silence for at least a few more weeks while I go back to trying to resolve my future as a writer, artist, failure, empty vessel, and hermit-best-treated-as-a-sort-of-roundabout.
Thanks to all who got in touch to make sure we are okay. See you all soon. Ish. Probably. Maybe. Probably.
Breaking silence just to update you on our current state of Real Life ™.
As many of you know, we located to Karratha, in the North of our State, at the beginning of last year. Right now, that puts us in the path of Cyclone Veronica, a category 4 cyclone off the coast that is expected to reach category 5 by the weekend, when it is expected to cross the coast somewhere within 350 kilometres of my side of the bed.
By tea-time Sunday, we are likely to be gifted with winds in excess of 125km/hr, potentially reaching to over 165km/hr. According to the Bureau of Meteorology, we’re also highly likely to receive rainfall in excess of 150mm within a 24 hour period, resulting in major flooding and a very dangerous storm tide.
Continue reading “CYCLONE VERONICA: THIS IS SERIOUS, MUM.”
Time for a break here at the Batthaim, I think.
After a year of relief teaching I’ve accepted a contract to teach English at the local High School part-time, and to say I suck at it would be like noticing the Antarctic is a touch nippy at this time of year. Consequently, running full-pelt just to keep up with everyone else’s strolling is eating my life. Writing has come to a shuddering halt, and frankly, I’m dispirited and disillusioned enough that it’s entirely possible it will never start up again. Thanks to an unpaid Christmas period, I can’t afford to pick kickboxing back up or renew my pool and gym memberships for months– if at all this year, thanks to all the other massive financial hits that have decided now was the right time for a multi-issue cross-over event– so fitness and workouts have taken a dive into shitedom.
Everything is all too much, and right now I have neither the energy nor the will to pretend that I have anything to offer the Universe. I might have a handle on this new position by the end of the ten-week first term. I might not. I might be in a position to return to my dancing monkey-boy side job. I might not. After 48 years of scratching every moment to try and be something special beyond the anonymous food processing unit my family history and social stratum bequeathed me at birth, I’m ready to admit defeat. I can’t help feeling I would have been better off just settling for a life of unambitious pissheadery, as did all my forebears.
Time for a break.
I love living in Australia. I love being Australian. I get highly shitty when anyone plays the “You’re a pom, you’re not a real Australian” card on me. I’ve been resident in this country since I was 5, a citizen since I was 11. I watch the world. This is, in many ways, a truly great, great country in which to live.
So wouldn’t it be nice to make it great for everyone? Not just in the relative political, judicial, and social safety we enjoy without thinking about; but emotionally and (though I hate to use the word), spiritually, as well. Wouldn’t it be nice if we had a day we could all feel that good about, without having to really consider the implications? If, instead of hearing somebody say This date causes my people pain because of these reasons, the response was less Strayaloveitorleaveitturnbacktheboatsfootygobackwhereyousecamefrom and more How can we help lessen your pain? ? More, I don’t know… Australian?
Wouldn’t it be nice just not to have to argue about it, because we could simply. just. agree? Continue reading “HAPPY AUSTRALIA-FOR-MOST-OF-US DAY”
The car went first. Then the furniture. Finally, on Wednesday, I drove Luscious and the kids to the airport and they went too. I’ve a couple of days of work and house tidying left, and then I’ll follow them. Rockingham is over, and our future– at least for the next 2 years– lies in Karratha.
I’ve lived in Rockingham, on and off, since the age of eight. That’s a gnat’s breath short of forty years. It’s my home. No matter where I travel– including this move, for however many years it lasts– no matter where I move to, my new location is viewed in terms of where it lies in relation to Rockingham. I’m not moving 1600 kilometres to Karratha, I’m moving 1600 kilometres away from Rockingham.
Continue reading “5 FOR FRIDAY: THINGS LEFT BEHIND”