2013: best and worst

The sun is setting on 2013...

So today is the last day of the year. I know I started this year feeling pretty hopeful, and while I'm ending it also feeling hopeful, there were some pretty bleak in-between-times that happened there.

Highlights and lowlights were all pretty closely intertwined. As an example, I went to Canada and saw the Northern Lights, which was amazing, but I also got such bad gastro that my guts were seriously fucked up for months afterwards, and I'm still dealing with the effects of it unfortunately. There was also some pretty negative step-family stuff that happened, but the upside is that I feel closer to my blood relatives now than I have in years. I am incredibly grateful to be part of such a strong, supportive, and loving network of people.

For part of this year I felt so trapped - living far from family and friends in Western Australia, saddled with a mortgage, and being bullied at work - and yet now I feel so free - back in Canberra, not working, and studying full time. It's so, so great to get to do what I want to do, to think about what I want to think about. One of the things that happens when you're being bullied is that you feel incredibly powerless. You don't think there's anything you can do to take back your power. Well, as a last resort I quit my job. It was the best thing I could have done. Now I find myself wondering how one (weak, pathetic, and terribly insecure) person could have gotten the better of me like that; the fact that I can now ask this question I take as a sign of my returning inner strength.

I don't know what 2014 holds for me. I don't feel desperate to embark on it like I did with 2013, convinced it would bring me new hope. I actually feel quite calm, sure that whatever else, the year ahead will bring new opportunities, new challenges, and hopefully many more occasions for happiness. Fingers crossed!

Goodbye old year!

It's all good!

It has been over 3 months since I last went to work. That's a quarter of a year! But it sure doesn't feel that long ago. A couple of weekends ago I went to visit a heritage site where I had an upcoming job interview, and when I walked into the property the heritage smell hit me, and I felt physically sick. Soon after I had been contacted to schedule that interview, my eye began twitching, and in the mornings I'd wake up with a sore jaw from having clenched it in my sleep. It was pretty telling to have such a physical reaction. I know I'll deal with it eventually, especially when I start working again and (hopefully) replace bad memories with good.

It's been 10 weeks since I moved back to Canberra, and I really am loving it. This is the third time I've moved to Canberra. The first time I enjoyed being here, in a superficial sort of way. Then I went to Tonga, and on returning I felt really disillusioned about the place. The city was so radically different to what I'd seen in the Pacific - in terms of priorities, climate, attitude. Tonga opened my eyes to aspects of my own culture, and in so many ways Canberra did not compare favorably to a tropical island paradise! Now, third time lucky, I feel like I am in a much better place to appreciate all that Canberra has to offer.

I feel lucky. Every morning I wake up, and I no longer dread the day ahead. Don't get me wrong, I am glad to have had the Westralian experience, and I don't regret going over there even though it was a very difficult time from start to finish. I'm glad both that I gave it a chance, and that we called it quits when we did.

The whole experience is quite a complex one to process. As time passes I'm sure I'll be able to find more positives in it, but I am very glad to be closing out the year on the east coast. I joke that the whole point of spending two years in Perth was just to make me appreciate what I have here so much more, but that's actually not far from the truth.

It's a relief to have the sense that "It's all good!" once more.

Orange star rising

Nearly three years ago, I skated and passed my first Orange Star test with Canberra Roller Derby League. Since then I have had to do the equivalent thing three more times. Twice with Perth Roller Derby (where the test is just called the Level 3) - the first time to transfer and the second (in February this year) because I had skipped 6 months of training!

Today I did it again with CRDL, because I was transferring back to the League after more than 2 years away. I passed, and even though I already have one orange star sticker on my helmet I thought I'd add this second one too, because I really feel that I have earned it. In so many ways returning to the League feels like I've come full circle.

Returning to Canberra also feels like I've come full circle. I feel so much more grateful now for everything I have here! After being stripped of so much of my support network while living on the other side of the country, I realise now how much being close to my friends and family means to me.

I feel revitalised and rejuvenated. I know part of this has to do with the fact that I haven't been at work now for over a month (which always helps!), but a lot of it also has to do with feeling connected once again to the people and places that matter in my life. I am incredibly, unbelievably happy to be back in Canberra. Which wasn't something I ever really thought I'd say!

Between returning from Tonga and leaving for Perth I was pretty down on this place. It did occur to me while I was in WA that perhaps the whole life lesson I was supposed to learn was about how good I'd had it in Canberra, so I'd be able to embrace it when we returned. Whether or not that's what the Universe was trying to teach me, it certainly reflects how I feel!

Wave Rock and surrounds

Day one and two of my little road trip with Dog Friday comprised the area around Hyden, including the various rock formations known as Wave Rock (a small part of a larger granite outcrop known as Hyden Rock), the Humps and Mulka's cave. These rocks were amazing, as were the wildflowers.

Despite its beauty, the area is seriously affected by salinity, which has rendered all the once-fresh water systems salty.

 

  

 

 

 

The Tin Horse Highway

Way back when I first moved here, I attended a conference paper given about the Tin Horse Highway, a stretch of road running from the wheatbelt town of Kulin to the local bush racetrack. I pretty much decided then and there that I had to see it for myself, and now, in closing my Westralian Experience, I have done (am still doing!) a little week-long road trip, encompassing the wheatbelt and the south coast, and including the Tin Horse Highway.

Below are pics of some of my favourites, though eventually I got sick of pulling my car over every hundred metres, and decided to stop photographing after the first two dozen or so!

Dad's Poem

My Dad wrote me a poem before he died. He was known for his poems, which he'd whip out at our various family gatherings - engagement parties, visiting relatives from overseas, any occasion was enough for Dad to write a poem about.

But he'd never written one for me until last year, after he learned he was dying. He read it aloud the last time the Menzies family were all together, in February of 2012. I found it today while going through my filing cabinet in preparation for the move, and because I only have the hard copy that he gave me I thought I'd spend the time and tears transcribing it.

So here it is.

TO ISA

Twelve thirty-eight, a miracle of the night,

No crying, slow blinks in Leboyer-dim light,

Dark hair, perplexed peeps,

Mouth agape while mother weeps,

Into water, first bath by sire,

Shaking hands, brain on fire.

Clumsy mitts that can’t disguise,

A first look into those dark eyes,

Gazes meet and one heart soars,

Misty eyes, the clench of jaws,

Nurse has seen it all before,

Grabs new baby, out the door.

Pediatrics now ensue,

She’s overcooked, but she will do,

Yaya arrives with second sight,

Adds more chaos to the night,

Mother sleeps and dad departs,

To Sydney Faculty of Arts.

Cigars all round that no-one smokes,

Lots of laughter, sleepless jokes,

Pheromones on overtime,

Exhaustion sweet, joy sublime,

Back to Crown Street, one more peek,

Through thick glass, view oblique.

Home at last, but colic bound,

Baby cries, a ghastly sound,

We helpless as that week-old child,

Doc assures us symptoms mild,

Try telling that to parents new,

Frantic learning, brains askew.

Lying on the bed one day,

Gibberish babbled, three at play.

Baby chokes and ceases breath,

Scares us shitless, imminent death?

Dad grabs child by legs and feet,

Inverted shakes above the sheet,

Bub comes to with awful cry,

Relief abundant she didn’t die.

Trained from two as pillion child,

Dad rides carefully, never wild,

Off to playschool on seat of tank,

Back at 3 and draw a blank.

“The bleeding’s stopped,” I hear the cry,

News to me, now what’s awry?

Shovel blow into the skull,

By rival child, slightly dull.

Ambos called, panic surging,

Siren blares at Isa’s urging.

Off to Daceyville,

In school band,

Cacophony,

Dad thinks it’s grand,

Flat and sharp,

Who needs a key?

The tears still flow

And all agree

That these kids are just talent plus,

A bandmaster’s genius.

But better for the education,

Is some global perambulation.

So round the world six months is spent,

In countries new, of vast extent.

And travel through these sprawling nations,

Means lots of time at railway stations

Playing cards while others view,

Dad and daughter stuck like glue.

Then it’s time for secondary learning,

Dad wins vote for school discerning,

St Catherine’s is the choice at last,

Not for snobbery, or chasing caste,

Just to give his precious girl,

A better chance at life’s pearl.

Alas she was her father’s child,

For private school a bit too wild.

So off to high school, where things smooth out,

Many fewer rules to flout,

There’s still some wilfulness observed,

But also teacher-praise incurred,

She sticks to it to some degree,

And does quite well in the HSC

Well it’s off to the Gong with Dad in tow,

Orientation, all that show.

But Gongoloids don’t suit young Eees,

Nor does uni, she’s not at peace.

A month or six of break’s required,

Before once again she is inspired.

So ay out west she stakes a claim,

Straight HDs in the BA game.

By now Dad’s skint and not around,

To have his ear upon the ground.

And many are the things, he fears,

Troubling Isa, bringing on tears.

Accumulated listings of regret,

Are bigger than the national debt.

And sometimes with the weekly post,

She fires arrows, with Dad the roast.

But this too passes, as time immemorial,

She does more study, a Masters curatorial,

Then finds her life-long niche at last,

Museums, curation, nothing half-arsed.

Joins the derby, learns to skate,

A gentle sport to participate

In clashes wild she busts a knee,

Expressing her femininity.

Then there is her perfect feller,

Her Clinton – the calm co-dweller.

A perfect match in many ways,

For him there can be no better praise,

Than making happy a dad’s only child,

Truly on whom fortune smiled.

So young miracle of the night,

I know this sounds a little trite,

But I really have to say aloud,

You’ve made your Dad, so bloody proud.

Road Trip 1

In my last few weeks in WA I am trying to do a spot of sight-seeing. This place truly is beautiful, and it seems a shame that I have seen so little of it in my two years here. So earlier this week Janet, Heath and I took a quick 3-day road trip to the Pinnacles on the coast, and New Norcia a little bit inland, all within a couple of hundred kilometres of Perth.

Arriving early to catch the sunrise

This odd assortment of shapes and sizes covers a relatively small area, and the theories around their formation are just that - theories.

Sunrise!

One theory is that these lumps were once the root system of large tuart trees, and that the original soil line was much higher than what we see now.

Wildflowers at the side of the road

The New Norcia Hotel, where we stayed. Originally built as accommodation for the parents visiting the pupils at the (European) schools.

The Abbey Church

Decorated in the 1960s using a traditional style, where coloured plaster is put on the walls in layers, and then scraped back to give the effect of illustration

The monastery where the Benedictine monks live

Abandoned building made from bricks manufactured onsite

Oven doors of the now-defunct Mill House

Inside the chapel of the (European) Boy's School

There were lots of walls everywhere - walls to keep boys away from girls, and to keep Aboriginals away from Europeans

 

Chapel in the (European) Girls' School, Saint Gertrudes