I just looked at my last post, and it was over a week ago! What gives? This is so unlike me; I'm normally ranting every second day at least. Maybe it was owing to the fact I carried out quite a few tutoring sessions last week, and my kid hogged the computer. Today, I made the concerted effort to boot him off, and he complied. In a week's time, we will learn of HSC results. Where have the years flown? It seems only yesterday we dimmed the lights and put on the Barry White CD, and now the resulting zygote is looking at university.
Life's been a hotchpotch of good and bad. In the past week, I have had to draw on inner strength and make decisions. I know the decisions I've made are the right ones, and I'm feeling good.
What else has been going on? Well, I've submitted an application to a 2020 writer's festival (Sydney based) to sit on the Young Adult panel. My application has been received, but I am yet to learn whether it has been successful.
On the weekend, I watched my younger kid perform in his dance school's annual concert. The concert was held at the local high school, and it was decided that once the kids had been signed in, they would sit in the school library owing to the current dire air quality. So, I signed my kid in and sat in the playground, and got out the novel I'm currently reading. I became aware I was feeling a little unwell, which was of concern because people generally don't like having to run to the toilet whilst there are performances on stage, especially ones in which their children are featured. But I got through the first act, even though the seating area was oppressively hot and stuffy. During intermission, I had to go outside to the fresh smoke. However, I managed to keep my guts intact during the show, and was able to smile the patented Mum Smile as my son performed with his musical theatre group to a medley of numbers from Annie.
But yes, the constant pall of smoke and ash has been making my eyes itch, and giving me merry total heck in the old sinuses. Other things that have given me the sighs is the beyond asinine comment made by Donald Trump aka The Cheezel That Walks at some anti-abortion rally, wherein he stated, 'Right now, in a number of states the laws allow a baby to be born from his or her mother's womb in the ninth month. It is wrong. It has to change.' Um, what? Is he channelling MacDuff from MacBeth, who in the play's fabulous denouement states he was from his 'mother's womb untimely ripped' (nowadays known as a C-section) because MacBeth arrogantly believed a prophesy that 'no man of woman born' would harm him? The common sense in me realises Cheezel Man is likely crapping on about the notion of a late-term abortion, a procedure that is NEVER carried out on a whim, but because of complications that endanger the mother's life. I'm not going to say to not comment if you don't have a uterus, because that's like someone saying I can't have an opinion on circumcisions because I am not the owner of a penis. What I will say is this: if you can't have an informed opinion, then don't comment.
The other thing that's given me the sighs lately is the death last week of Andrew 'Greedy' Smith from Mental As Anything. Shit, that's unfair. He wasn't old, and he was a nice guy. I had the pleasure of meeting him a few times, and we discussed trekking Nepal (I trekked Nepal in 1989, and our guide asked my friend and I had we heard of Greedy Smith; our guide was a former musician and developed an interest in Australian music after taking Greedy on a trek, whereon Greedy had mentioned to our mutual guide he was a musician in Australia).
Life just stinks at times.
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