A shift in direction

For all my working life I have given the best of myself to my job. At present this is causing me nothing but searing frustration, so I have decided to try something else. I'm going to try shifting that focus and energy towards roller derby instead, and see what I can achieve.

It looks like I have made the travel team for The Great Southern Slam in Adelaide in June, largely by default (not enough players opting in), but I want to be more than just a default player, I would like to be a valuable part of the team. I've got two months - let's see what happens!

Derby Love

This last week has been pretty intense. Dad came to visit for what was supposed to be 4 days but ended up being 5 due to an unexpected trip to the hospital and him being declared medically unfit to fly. Aside from that day in Fremantle Hospital, it was so great having him to stay, just hanging out and chatting.

The worst thing to see, aside from the weight loss and the obvious physical pain, are the things he's having to give up - motorbike riding looks like the next on the list. He told me that he had wanted to ride a horse again before he dies, but it looks like that will not eventuate due to a fear of fracturing his pelvis. As his bones are degrading he becomes more and more susceptible to breaks and fractures. After the hospital scare his wife has now banned him from travelling alone again, though what difference having her here on that day would have made I don't know. It really saddens me to see the things a man enjoys doing being taken from him one by one by the progress of the cancer.

Then I found out a dear friend of mine has had some terrible news about her pregnancy, which, though I know it doesn't affect me directly, breaks my heart for her. It seems a miracle that any baby is born healthy, let alone the majority of them, when there is just so much that can potentially go wrong. When it goes wrong for someone you care about it's just awful.

But this is not meant to be a sad post. We have a bout tonight - my first with the Bloody Sundaes. I was such an emotional wreck yesterday that I had a mind to call my captain and ask her to take me off the roster, especially as there's 3 girls sitting off who would happily replace me. But today I woke up and took heart from the hope that roller derby gives me. Because if I consider myself an athlete when playing derby, however amateur, then I have to suck it up and get my head into the game. And it has given me something to look forward to, something that I know will engage me and take my mind off all the full-on shit that has happened this week.

I have taken a lot of comfort from derby since moving to WA. It's great to know that no matter how shit my week has been, and how hard it sometimes is to motivate myself to go to training, it invariably is one of the highlights of the week. And whatever else is great about it, that is one of the reasons that roller derby shines in my life.

Ouch

So, it's been a little while. Only a little one, though, not an age! Work is keeping me busy. I'm usually there for 9-10 hours a day. There's two of us doing the work that would be done by 4 or 5 separate people at the NMA. But that's not as bad as the fact that no-one I work with (with the exception of the Assistant Curator, of course) understands what dealing with heritage actually means. So I spend a lot of time simply battling for the basics. Trying to explain why fluctuations of 25% humidity in a 12-hour period are unacceptable and we should have a dehumidifyer. Why we can't use mothballs. Why we need to do Loan Agreements. The basics. And it's a real struggle, particularly when some people see the Prison as the heritage equivalent of Adventure World (if you're wondering what that is, think Australia's Wonderland, but still open to the public).

Today I left work at 6pm, which is not unusual for me, but there were a few others, usually long gone by then, still hanging around. Turns out that there was an outing to the Fremantle Street Arts Festival happening, to which everyone was invited except me, the Assistant Curator, and the two old blokes on the team. Ouch.

That kind of hurt. It takes some balls to up sticks and move away from your family and friends to a new town, as anyone who's done it would know. You have to start afresh with friendships, and it's pretty discouraging when you hit a scenario like that one. My first thought was that it was like high-school, but in actual fact that's not true, because in high school I really didn't care about my isolation. I was a misfit who was too young and cocky to give a shit, and I took pride in that. But after having known friendships and closeness with people who 'get' me for the last decade and a half, behaviour like that stings.

I was angry and upset at first, but then remembered that there are people who love me and accept me back home/s (Sydney, now also Canberra), and I am blessed to have an amazing husband sharing my day-to-day life over here, as well as a good friend from way back living here too. I need to slap myself out of my self-pity, because quite frankly I've been wallowing in it a fair bit lately!

I rememeber the first year of living in Canberra, and what a tough one that was in terms of personal development and learning. I'm hopeful that things in WA will follow the same pattern, and things will get better once I get into my second year here. Fingers crossed, anyway!

Mortality

Dad and I at my cousin's wedding, August 2011

Lately it seems I cry on more days than not. Late last year I found out my father has a terminal form of cancer. He'd been diagnosed with prostate cancer several years ago, but that seemed to have been dealt with. Unfortunately it has spread through his skeletal system, and it's now a matter of we-don't-know-how-long, but probably months that he has left to live.

I can't tell you how gutting news like this is. Is anone ever ready to lose a parent? Probably not, but it still seems that a man aged 61 is too young to die. Nevertheless, everyday life goes on, and you learn to put knowledge like this aside, somewhere that you can take it out and grieve over it in private, without interference to your work, your recreation, your relationships.

But it does leak out of you, and that's why there's more days where I cry than days when I don't. It doesn't take much to set me off. A motorcyclist on the road; an email or phone call from my dad; a photo. It's a knowledge that sits heavily inside me and permeates all my quiet moments.

There are lots of reasons to wish not to be an only child, and most of them become apparent as you reach adulthood. I've found another one - the grief of a dying parent should be shared between siblings. There is no-one to share this commonality of experience with me. I know others who have lost a parent, but in this particular circumstance I am alone. I am the only child who is losing this man as my father. And it feels awful.

Dad aged 33, the same age I am now

Scary - me??

I got told the other night by a new acquaintance, who also works in the same industry as me over here in WA, that I was "quite scary, professionally." Really??

I know I have a strong personality, but I don't think I am scary professionally, so much as this town lacks qualified and experienced heritage professionals. I am working at a world heritage-listed site, and I am the only person on the staff who has any sort of relevant training.

Don't get me wrong - I don't believe the bit of paper is the be-all and end-all (even though I know I am eventually going to have to do a PhD if I ever want to return to the eastern states in any kind of well-paid capacity). One of the best curators I know only has an honours-level degree (though yes, she is working towards a PhD). It's more that dealing with heritage requires a certain way of thinking, which if it's not instilled into you at Uni then should be instilled into you from working in the industry. And it does seem to be somewhat lacking as a whole over here.

The main powerbrokers in the industry over here are the National Trust and the Royal Historical Society. These organisations have all been eclipsed in the eastern states as thinking about heritage becomes more progressive, and even some cutting edge government organisations have lead the way at times (I'm thinking of the Historic Houses Trust of NSW, as funded under the Carr government). There is simply nothing like that over here, and aparently the main cultural heritage management/museum studies tertairy course has just been axed, which will only compound the problem.

What is it about Western Australia that makes it so different? One thing I have noticed is that it is a wealthy state, but that wealth is in the hands of a few, and doesn't translate to well-funded arts or heritage programs at all. It's a state obsessed with the present - to think of the past (or even the future!) is anathema to the ethos of immediacy that seems to stem from the mining industry. Thus heritage is in the hands of old-fashioned organisations like the National Trust, and heritage interpretation is unable to move forward.

So getting back to being called 'scary' - my conclusion is that it's not me, WA, it's you!

This time last year....

This time last year, if I'd imagined where I'd be in 12 months, I daresay it would have caused a little flutter of disappointment and the thought 'more of the same'.

If someone had told me this time last year that in 12 months I'd be living in Fremantle, have a permanent job at a World Heritage Site, and have bought a house, I probably would have laughed (but inwardly cheered, and gone 'yippee!'). I could never have imagined the last 12 months, but by god I'm glad they happened!

I can't help myself - I love variety and I love change. Those two years at the NMA working on Landmarks, while good years, were indistinguishable one from the other. How horrifying! 2010 was, in fact, the first time I started the year doing the same job I ended it on. Ever.

I like to think that I am treading a path where variety and suprise and an ever-changing journey are being balanced by moving forwards, and still achieving something worthwhile and concrete. The idea of 'settling down' in one place terrifies me. I can't imagine it. But I'm happy to spend enough time somewhere to get to know it, to love it, but then also to leave it. I don't know where my final home will be. I suspect I might never have one. It's enough to settle down for a while, to experience something new, to learn about myself and my surroundings, and then to move on.

Home is important, don't get me wrong, but there is nowhere I've come across that feels like a forever home. Not yet, anyway. Instead it's a place in my heart with my husband, and wherever we go, together, it feels like home. I do need the solid home base - there's no way I could couch-surf while trying to hold down a full-time job, or live out of a suitcase while trying to live 9-5. I need the stability of a good home, but I know I'll always end up leaving.

Such an inability to commit to settling down seems odd from someone who grew up in the one house until moving out at 18; went to the same primary school, and only 2 high schools (and that's coz they kicked me out of the first one!). I'm like some weird hybrid of a nomad and a settler. But it helps to keep life interesting. And in that spirit, I wish you all a wonderful new year, and many blessings for 2012. Who knows where we'll all be in 12 months time hey!

Phwoar!

Wow, the landscape changed dramatically last week, when my boss announced on Monday that she was resigning, effective Friday. Phwoar!

This was good news to me for several reasons, but the one that I am going to focus on from now is about the future. I hope the past will stay put behind me, and not rear its ugly head. Perth is a small town, apparently too small to go around making enemies, but I think my boss and I pretty much burned all our bridges this last week of our working relationship. Never mind, like I said, from now on it's all about the future!

I get to act in the position of Curator until they recruit for it, and as they need to sort some other stuff out first that will more than likely be between 4-6 months. I'm banking on 4, and going to direct my energies to achieving at least one major goal in that time, as well as hopefully kicking several small ones as well. If I get extra time then it's a bonus.

I'm under no illusion that the job will be handed to me in recruitment, but nor will I shy away from applying for it. I hope to be a strong contender for the role, but whatever happens, these next few months are a fabulous opportunity to sink my teeth into some really satisfying work. The chance to punch above my weight would never have been forthcoming had I stayed in Canberra - there you work above your level but never get a chance to do it officially, not unless you've jumped some serious hoops or somebody dies to make room up the top. This is an amazing opportunity.

Things seem to be falling into place for me right now with almost miraculous synchronicity. I'm intrigued by how it will play out in the new year!

PS I also passed Level 4 with PRD, which seemed to be the equivalent of CRDL's Orange Star testing, and that means I can bout with the league in the new year. Huzzah!