I haven't written in ages and there is one damn good reason. I am a blathering fool in denial but compelled non the less.

Back to life, life online and off.

Found a few friends with blogs,

http://slimpickens.wordpress.com/2009/02/22/method-in-malcolms-madness/

bloody entertaining read care of Cakra.
Then there is this beauty in true Aussie style:

http://billabongasauras.blogspot.com/

care of Deva.
And of course braja the mightiest blogger of them all
http://lostandfoundinindia.blogspot.com/

and shaka.

http://itsvedic.wordpress.com/

What makes a person blog? There is thesis fodder here, I can smell it.

I have to write for uni and though I feel mildly confident I am still in hell. A squandered intellect wrapped in vanity and dissipation. I'd like to get on a roll but life just gets in the way and to fight it requires truck loads of discipline. I mean, wouldn't I prefer to have a cuppa with my young friend and theorize on the woes and ways of life while her four children wonder the house?
Don't I want to go to my older friends house and help her place her new marble stand while she tells me the ways. Or have tea and cake with the Youngs and feel the house rattle with our children thundering around looking for cheap egg chocolates. The woman sit rattling with stories and wonders. All of this and more in one day and I have to write the damn essay. Oh no I don't , I have to go to work to pay for toys and tea.

Speaking of which, I watched Zeitgeist Adendum. Brilliant watch that can be downloaded with ease. DId I say something illegal? Hahah, I don't think so.
It pretty much summarised the modes we had been engaging with but in conceivable terms. No one and I mean no one is going to go feral. Well hardly. This was still idealistic but viable for most.

Living in town is ok when I put my rose coloured glasses on and pretend it is cosmopolitan. I love the park with the huge chess set that waits, a bloody long time, to be played by the old and young of this town. The swings, the mothers, the cafe's. The library, but when I pass the bush and smell the rain, hear the waterfalls and see mount Warning, I hanker. Another life perhaps. Certainly not now. There is obviously work to be done but I can not fathom why. Still haven't really figured this "Secret" thing out.

I mean, I don't mind sitting in a funky Indian shop for ten hours straight. That can do things to a person. For the first four weeks I was getting a migraine evey time I worked. What does that say about me? I laugh.

Shaka , poor sod, is working her butt off.
Rhada just showed me how to fold a t shirt in 2 seconds. She learnt this from the internet. This is what this great medium is for. She also discovered what do to with acne and other adolescent concerns. She is feeling pretty empowered running around the house spreading the glories of the true light in t shirt folding. It is, after all, pretty nifty. I'll do this photo thing one day.

Kalki dances for youtube while the rest of us write. What is this first world we live in?

Tired ......of?

It's raining, always raining so that I worry about the mice and there wet little houses. Wet houses means company.

Get back into the space. Leave the outside behind. it didn't happen. The twilight zone tortures with its lack of productivity.

Bach remedies for sleep, chimes for cakras. Think I'll get a massage but then what?

Verandas

Oh dang, my favourite new word. And I loath the intrusive and assumptive american spell check. I mean, pervert a language and then demand all others to do the same just cos you rule or rue the world.
So the meandering mind and its sensless wanderings. Painful only in perception. Heart strings and insults. Imaginings and reality. I thought I knew the difference but in hindsight, I think not. Time dwell not with thee.

I think I have got a hold on this migraine thing. I think that if I stop being a twat to myself and loosen up a little, you know, happy happy joy joy [oops, I made myself puke] then I might be able to control the daily headaches that inevitably escalate to fortnightly migraines. That is not a life. So what is? I am supposed to like myself or at least care and there by care for others. I feel myself slip into ignorant negative rhetoric. Eeeeek

Nature has been good of late. There is no dearth of sweet sounds and fresh air. Heaven. And then the sneaky sabotage that is the mind.

I have three subjects this semester. I am too gutless to do the four. All this reading and all this meaning merging so that I can't figure which subject is which. I mean, they should call cultural studies everything studies. What subject does it not cover?
God I love the vague; the vagaries of my mind.

Inlaws came today. I could have sworn my father inlaw was not that pleased to see me. I think that I instinctively affront his sense of what is right. He reckons the greens have destroyed the earth. I reckon it wasn't our fault. The education department set out to create us in the 70's and we can't help it if we are living out our conditioning. Planting trees was some kind of ritualistic experience for me as a grade two student. This is, after all, Brave New World, is it not?

They didn't tell me to Join the Hares. Not sure where that came from. Quite inexplicable to me even to this day. I'll figure that out but I really have no excuses. Gross dysfunction and a haphazard need for codependency? Perhaps.
I have to say, in all fairness I came out with something good but there is some processing to do yet before the "fruit is ripe" so to speak.

I remember trying to study on the farm and finding internal conflict having to engage with ideas that threatened the status quo so tightly held on the mind of the community. I feel more relaxed about it now.Not on the farm? You guessed.

Lalita will be studying too. Amber wants to start. Raga is. Is this some type of contagion? The unfair thing is the oldies care but the young ones have more brain power to get the deed done. If I could turn back time, I'd be afraid of the choices I'd make. I left them up to fate and I am hoping that my God had something to do with them because heaven help me I wonder sometimes.

And in the end the great Australian dream lives on. Dinner on the veranda, that is our word, and a swim in the pool. Oops, I'm wrong, it's a Hindi word. Cool eh? So where did patio come from? Bloody contrived if you ask me. Ahh, the Spanish, bunch of show offs. Give me a veranda any day.

Thank God................$

Oh thank the Lord, our family tax supplement has been passed. We can service the car, get gas infact. Very practical with these petrol prices. Mattresses for the offspring. Ho hum pun. You have no idea what anxiety this takes away. We are so broke my kds can't study Spanish at school because it costs $100 a pop and those pops just aren't to be had. Mind I am patient but it gets sad when the kids wait for things like a school tie because there wasn't enough money to get one. Crickey. Hey I don't mind a dearth here and there but bailing out excruciatingly wealthy people who refuse to drop their standard of living which is blatantly excessive if not obscene then moan about poorer types getting bailed out of costs involved with educating four children. You have to wonder what these guys hearts are made of. Thank you MR Rudd for being a decent chap and that's not just because I will get a buck. Howard dished a little out, directly before the polls I might add and it did nothing to improve my feeling towards his values in life.

Dear old Howard, whose dad made a quid cheating the system, as all good business men do, has the gaul to tell us we are a bunch of parasitical losers because he is presently experiencing privilege. What an ignorant shallow puffed up turd. His main goal, seemed to be to hang with what he imagined , were important people. How very embarrassing for him and us given he was our ..........oh God, our leader. Someone put an end to it and I thank them all from the bottom of my heart. He wasn't much chop to look at either. Mind these things count for a girl like me. This Rudd chap on the other hand. His eyes look like they have little thoughts flickering behind them. Howard's were so small and squinty any potential thoughts got squeezed out and all that remained were the seed of malcontent that he happily thrust upon the soil we call home. May he reside in Texas, forever more with his true love, Heavens, maybe he dropped him for not being important anymore, likely. And if you think I am mean......go to a local school or hospital and see what the bastard has done to our country.

Ahhh but I hear the rain fall and the first bird calls of the morn. My first born' anniversary of birth in this body. SHe has to work but in this day and age, that is gift enough. I have no money with which to buy her some special momento. I tried making a basket with palm stringy things. I failed, harder than you think. I guess I could paint her a picture. Why thank you oh glary screen. I may be saved yet from child neglect. These things count in the urban world. It is all about creating the experience. Making it just right so that on our death beds we think pleasant salutary thoughts on our departure. I like my cute view of the ease with which I and possibly you , will pass this life. So collect those Kodak moments and make sure you're happy with them. Do your time and leaving may, will, be a dream. Getting random and rambling. Maybe some more time laying in stupor but aspiring for more may help me here.

I once listened to a man describe sound, the conglomerate of our surrounding sounds, as being like a song with a message. I shall lay and listen. Actually it would probably be more immediate fun to have bowel movement but failing that I will aspire for more.

There are these bugs outside that sound great. Have the begginng of natures orchestra and then, some how, due to the fact that I live in town, I have to incorporate the sound of the vehicles driving by and hope it's sound is pleasing to the heart. Wow, a whole tree of birds just woke up. It's like natures parliament in full fracas mode.

I wish I could tell you something wonderful.

Migraines in the Brave new World

Why have they not invented a cure for the old migraine. Of all the things they could do with their time. I go to a doctor to obtain a prescription in anticipation of the next migraine and she tells me to use magnets. I leave her office naively hoping she is right. She must be, an old Egyptian woman with a hefty jewel encrusted gold ring on her every finger as well as being a qualified doctor. She must be right. No drugs? Weeks go by and I consider I may be on to a good thing. No,............ the mother of all migraines rolls in and I contemplate what it must be to die while chocking on ones own vomit. All the while the utter meaninglessness of my dissipated existence threatens to consume what little remains of my thoughts. I have noticed though, that an angry thought brings on a fit of retching. Now I am not sure what the subliminal messages are there but I guess I had better watch it. Looking forward to finding a doctor who WILL subscribe me some of the stuff that I am told you snort thereby releasing you from the strong hold of said migraine.

Nice eh? Well the house has huon pine floors and it looks pretty inviting with the ............yes, the IKEA flokati rug. Sucih thinks I am urbane but they remind me of a private library I knew as a child. Tartan rugs on wing back chairs with open fire and the Melbourne drizzle outside, but the flokati, oh the rug and not a pet in sight to defile it.

And I do believe God does listen. This is an unsavoury description but something rebellious inside me feels compelled. While I lay there in pain suffering spams that force union with my favoured bucket, I considered prayer. I asked Dear God to take this seemingly unreasonable pain away. I mean, what could I possibly have done to deserve this apparent torture? Low and behold, my daughter walks in with some random medication she had picked up on her travels [thankyou Pratapana] and I deposit the miniscule tablet on my tongue. With in minutes I was relaxed enough to no longer fear I was going to regurgitate my heart, or spleen for that matter.

Spent the whole day in bed negotiating my thoughts on what it means to be forced to remain an observer, while at the same time suffering. The kids went to the beach with dad. The afternoon brought a house full of happy people contemplating the next adventure, Pizza at Nrsimadeva's. Well poo, I didn't want go anyway. And still the darn thing has not left me but I am so bored I push myself knowing I can lay once more in a pained stupor after this.

We have no TV. I sometimes wonder if it is a good thing as we often haven't a clue as to what is going on. Did the government want to give us more money? Yes , no , I haven't a clue, I don't watch the news. I am sure if we get one it will destroy what little mental activity we have in this house, well the positive kind anyway. The hum and buzz of the telly that says it is all right , do not think, do not act, all is well. Speaking of lethargy and our societies inability to act on anything at all that is important. {am I wrong here?] I am wondering if this malaise has not spread to our beloved pipe dream..........ISKCON. Ok I concede, there were no pipes involved with the dream but I do wonder if there is this horrendous malaise. Actually, I really should retreat to my former safer stance of not caring. This is the preferred and fashionable thing to do. What an obedient lassy I am.

And I leave you with this snippet, well, I leave me with this snippet care of Nietszch; is that how you spell it?

"Most thinkers write badly because they communicate not only their thoughts but also the thinking of them"

Go figure that out. I haven't the energy but maybe one day. Gooden nacht.

I have forgotten how to do the photo thing...........bum

sponge

Why sponge? Because I no longer have a maid and sponges are a big part of domestic life here.
My 9 year old used up the band width within 2 days of getting the internet on. Of course, if you should want speed, the middle of the night will suffice.

Feeling tortured by the prospect of having some one say something seriously mean after having read this. SHows you what a wimp I am and why I revel on the almost complete obscurity of this blog. I think I had some one apparently rolling on the floor with laughter.......at me, not with me of course.

And to start my new reinvented or reattached reality, I here by swear that I will never ever work for the Langos stall again. Brute force and a tortured reality. The horror of menial work under those that would incorporate diminution and degradation into the pay pack for good measure.

There is a Primary school across the way. And should you be looking for me........I own nothing nothing nothing so find some one else to harrass. Back to the school. Do you like the sound of children? Or better yet teenagers in the dead of night cussing their way back home for want of anything better to do. It seems a very validating thing to do, wondering the streets screaming for good measure. Speaking of screaming, has no one told those kids about the boy who cried wolf. They all scream as if in unified distress. It really is something I expect to see in the primary section of hell. Do they have IKEA in hell?

Uni starts soon. Yehaa reason to live. Poor pitiful me. I had so much to say and no bandwidth to say it with and now the stagnant stupor sets in while all the while fear prevents me from speaking lest I appear the fool I really am. That is to save you the trouble, lest you think I do not already know.

The bell went. The children retreat. I feel the cool change come and I wonder how I will invent a way to experience these sounds in a more positive light.

The difference between the hare farm and town. lets see. Farm.......quiet seclusion, nutty residents non the less intriguing. cult like demands. Good food. Nice Gods. Peacocks that will never allow a garden to grow though they crow sweetly. Primary school that is less noisy. Drop toilets. Waterfalls after the rain.
Town.............. people [I like people I think and there lies the problem] cars and trucks and large schools. High school. Park with skate boarding facility [good and bad according to my mood] shops that do not require a 15 minute drive that costs minimum $5 in petrol to get to. Cafes that I can not presently afford to go to. All up I can think of no more which makes me wonder.

Well, I will keep up the affirmations that confirm abundance and pretend that this fiscal drought is merely in interim period between mediocrity and great things.

I am so looking forward to school which reflects badly on my self esteem.
Must get into art course which will require me drawing. More self esteem issues and what a privileged life I lead to be worrying about the mind while the body grows fatter.

The contrasts are starting to wither and I blame Langos entirely. There was something about our boss that was so entirely cruel as to find my thoughts withering under her scowl. They died, a part of my perception died. What a mean hard hearted creature can do in the work place. And I say that guilt free and hope all will benefit.

But who knows, I could be obviating the need to take some responsibility and possibly rue the day I expressed such an opinion. That's how I see it for now.

Family constellations........heard of it? If you like crying it's just the ticket.

Back to Austin's Emma. And then, let the readings begin.

belated half offering that should be before the last

Saturday morning and it hasn't stopped raining for days. Coffee and time.
The ikea clothes hangers stand as if sculptures. Some poor young or old designer went to some trouble to remain employed. Speaking of employment. Although I feel gainfully employed it appears it is not enough to satiate my needs as a full time western consumer.
Kids are off to school. If I could remember how to load photos on this thing.
And all my thoughts are inhibited by time and tide. When I was enthralled with my own thoughts I had no access and now I am inebriated by comfort and langour. I am enjoying it. I guess it is the family reunited. I live the last minutes of the tranquil dream.
Dreamt of a twister on the ocean moving on top of my house. I survived it and even chanted but went mad........from the chanting? Can't say but I wasn't pleased with the outcome so I switched that off. My neighbour...................

interrupted by family vying for one of the few computers we have now. What is left of it. MAc is going to hear from me. The last macbook had cheap plastic and it is cracking. I am so annoyed as my first one is still in great nick which makes me think the Chinese producers pulled a swifty and offered up second rate plastic. I want a replacement.