Emotions are a fickle beast, really. They morph and change with the frequency and unpredictability of the Melbourne weather. Over the past few days, mine have been a turbulent maelstrom, twisting and changing like the images in a kaleidoscope. Some of those emotions have been:
1. Utter Fury. This is directed to former Twat-in-Chief Whose Silhouette Resembles A Ciborium, Tony Abbott. Last night I was doing the night medication run and from the radio heard him blathering and dissing pensions for people with bad backs and depression. The language I directed toward my radio would not have been out of place at a Naval boot camp. Hey, Abbott aka Entitled Arse, do you know anyone with a bad back? I do. I share my life with someone who has a bad back, and believe me, he doesn't see it as a means to shirk employment and live off the public teat for the rest of his life. He hates the situation. It is a thorn in his side. Do you have any idea how completely debilitating back issues are? No? Didn't think so. You must have copped a few to that ugly head of yours during your boxing for Oxford days if you seriously think bad backs are some kind of rort. You've always made my flesh crawl ('Virginity is a gift'), and my blood boil ('We will stop the boats' - seeking asylum is not against the law and Australia is mandated under the UN Convention on refugees, anyway, you prick). But last night you had my blood boiling to the point where the top of my skull nearly flew off because I have no pressure release valve. You utter, utter unscrupulous, miserable, scum-sucking, bottom-feeding moron if you believe what you said. Did your arse get jealous of the shit that made its way out your mouth? Complaining about these people seeking disability pension is somewhat craw-piercing coming from a bloke who's going to be enjoying a $300,000 per year pension.
2. Disgust. The disgust appeared when I saw on the news footage of a woman stealing Christmas decorations from a person's lawn. Honestly, why would you do this? Hey, I don't like 'Santa, Please Stop Here' signs, either. I don't know why. I like lights, and tinsel, and baubles, and Nativity figures, and candy canes. I enjoy driving around at night and looking at the decorated homes, as I inwardly wonder about their upcoming electricity bills. I like hearing Christmas carols being piped through speakers at the shopping centre (except 'Little Drummer Boy' and 'Last Christmas' by Wham - those songs can fuck right off). But those 'Santa, Please Stop Here' signs do my head in. There is something about them. They are not the sweet whimsy the home decorators believe them to be; they are whiny in tone. However, I would not remove one from someone's lawn, which this grubby type appears to have done. This might not be as low as stealing from a charity box set aside to buy presents for needy children, but it's still a pretty pathetic act. People often put up decorations in the hope others will enjoy them (and some probably put them up to one-up the neighbours), and along comes this slob in active wear gym pants (which was a laugh because she's clearly not been inside a gym since MTV aired) who takes it upon herself to stuff the decorations into a sack. Kind of like a reverse of Santa. Instead of a jolly fat man taking things out of his sack, we have a miserable, albeit fat, woman stealing and stuffing INTO her sack. But I know the footage looks damning, and I'm unsure whether it will be admissible in court proceedings. I will be interested to know what happens in those court proceedings, if any, from a legal standpoint. But all you bah-humbugs out there, just let people put out their decorations, okay? If the decorations are not impeding on your comfort, like lights with a wattage similar to a small sun being shone directly into your eyes when you're watching television or trying to sleep, just get over it if it's not your bag. Those of you who decorate your houses, I will continue to admire your graft and creativity. Just don't expect me to sigh with pleasure if I see a 'Santa, Please Stop Here' sign; those things set my teeth on edge.
3. Pride. My fifteen-year-old scored an academic award at his school presentation the other night: he came first in his year for Information Software Technology 100 Hours, which was an elective. Such an elective was unheard of when I was his age. Our electives were along the lines of the social sciences and creative sciences. Not that IST isn't necessarily creative, I guess. But I was one proud mumma!
4. Just Plain Crazy Emotion. My twelve-year-old had his Year 6 Graduation Assembly today. I cried. I wasn't the only one, the hall was a sea of sniffling mums, dads, boys and girls. It was kind of encouraging to see the boys being open with their emotions; when I was that age the boys wouldn't have dreamed of crying at their graduation. What a day they've had. They graduated and had a party - I didn't stick around because I'm aware a loitering parent can bring about a social death akin to being bombed by an entire Luftwaffe. Then after school I had to collect him from his school band end of year party, and of course some of the members won't be there next year. The kids had a screen hooked up to You Tube and were dancing to, of all things, Queen. My son picked 'Don't Stop Me Now', and tore up the dance floor, along with his best mate. 'Don't stop me now,' they sang, ''cos I'm having a good time...' And they were. But the good times in primary are finished now, and a new chapter begins.
5. More Plain Crazy Emotion - yesterday was the first anniversary of the death of my father. Twelve months since I last spoke to him. Technically twelve months and one day because I spoke to him the night before he died to remind him what time Mr Bingells would take him to a doctor's appointment. Mr Bingells did take Dad to the appointment, which was the last time anyone in our family saw him alive. After the appointment, Dad drove home (the appointment wasn't in Dad's home town) and died that afternoon.
But tonight there might be some sleep for us. The cool change has finally made itself felt, and it's now raining. The past few nights have brought discomfort and irritability - a by-product of no sleep due to this infernal heat. We shall see.
Now, I must be away. I've got a kitchen to straighten, and Christmas cards to write.
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