evening-cafe-mod.jpgI put, ‘Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Day’ into the search bar on my own blog to find the last time I’d used the term and it took me back to some post in 2005. What a difference in how I used to blog! I was so non disclosing and gave such weak illusions to what was going on.

To risk being labeled a whinger… you know, all these posts about ‘Woe is me’, let me tell you about my morning.

It was another treck into the uni to see if I could get any subject exemptions for having scooted across from one degree to another. I got on the train and ten or so minutes in realised that I left my folio at home. This realisation gave way to a flat feeling of suppressed panic/resignation. I rendered myself incapable of willingly turning around by calling Geoff who told me to ‘go in regardless’. Smart move.

The train pulled in at a station further on and stopped, we sat and sat and finally were told that we were waiting on an ambulance for, ‘an ill passenger’. No big drama, I was thinking appropriately, “Well, that’s a much bigger problem for them than for my delay”. Yet we sat there for a long time.

I called Geoff again asking for the Design Faculty phone number which he found for me. I then went to call them to let them know that I would be late and discovered that I couldn’t. No credit.

At Richmond Station I ran up to the platform – I’d missed the 10am train, just. Deciding that I’d do the right thing I went to an ATM and bought a phone voucher. Back up to the platform and I called the uni – no answer. Suddenly I hear a surreal, “Rebecca ___ if you are at the Station can you please come to the booking office”. I flipped out momentarily as they said my last name correctly. An internal reaction would’ve looked something like you would if a dark voice came from the sky, “Rebecca welcome to this sucky day… guess what we have for you next!”

So I run back down the platform, out the ticket barricades again and presented myself where I was told to go. It turns out that I left my bank card in the ATM, some kind person returned it.

Back to the platform to call the Faculty whom I finally got on to. I was half an hour late. Without a folio. A classy reflection upon my organisation – perfect for getting subject exemption.

Anyway they were all rather nice and reasonably understanding, in fact one of the guys introduced me as, “…Rebecca, she’s having a bad day” – with hardly knowing any extra information.

I talked my way (with the aid of some nice results) into getting one the subjects off. This does need to be re-assessed later before the semester ends to clarify whether I have the same level of skill by looking at my folio. Fortunately it is a new subject and can be taken pretty well whenever – so if back up is necessary there is no massive drama. If all goes well – and it should, I will save myself $889 in HECS.

So that was my morning. The whole not knowing if my car is going to cost me a bucket was of course playing dominoes with my head amongst the other crappyness.

Here’s (at the very least) to a positive outcome!

General Life On The Train Uni

Just about to head off to bed. It’s before 1am!!!!

No, I have camp tomorrow until Thursday and shall not I think, be getting much sleep.
So this is to let you know I haven’t died, mind you half the people who read this will be seeing me in person anyway.

Gush meeting today.

Train in, I looked out the window just past Croydon. I see this crash scene, guy sprawled on the ground and motorbike. I think he was moving, not really sure. Very messy, glass everywhere. Bad as that was, there was some intense road rage happening about two metres from him. Two guys wrestling/punching and generally fighting eachother, one had a motorbike helmet on there were two vehichles stopped nearby. This was happening all on a rather busy road, cars stopped around the edges. So that disturbed me for a little while.

The meeting however was really good. I met John at Macca’s, recognised him straight away (seeing as he was sitting near the window). Got some lunch, Jas called about 5mins later to see if I’d met him. Found our tram. Found the cafe. And many random gush details I wont disclose. Dylan was a waiter (have met him a couple of times before). So Prowdy, Tij, Paul, John, Burkies and myself there. Was good. Killed time after with Paul and John, getting icecream/iced coffee and walking down nearish the Yarra. Caught the train at 5:50pm.

Had one of those people you think are watching you but aren’t sure, due to sunglasses (ARGH!). I didn’t have a book with me, so just music and zoned out/thought pretty much the whole way home.

Now. Bed before it actually reaches 1am.

More in four days or so. Prayer would be good, really good actually. There will be interesting things playing with my and pretty much everyone’s heads re: leaving and finishing up. Sadness and that.

Proof:
shaddow
see ^ I’m there.

General Ministry On The Train

As of two minutes ago I was in a not so exuberant mood. I hate hate hate shopping when you go intentionally and can’t find anything. What do they make bathers for now? Show? or the junk heap. Ugly and impractical. Wish I hadn’t lost my last ones.

I get home. Email from Jane showing how bad budget is for end of year party (which is next week). Two emails below that is one from Angela (finance person at Tabor) and they’ve finally decided we worked hard enough so they are being more generous which means we are saved and can deliver on what the posters promised. So good, not to have to stress about that. Hurrah for God!

Wrote a shockingly long to-do list on the train. Had copious amounts of time as the weather affected the power which affected the train signals. Which meant I had to sit on the already late train for ages, then change, then sit even longer and stop, start, stop, start. Took me nearly 2hours to get to work (not quite). The book I bought with me was decidedly badly written so I gave up after chapter 6. My headphones started playing up, so now only one ear piece works properly. The rechargeables have already worn out so it’s running on others that could run out very suddenly but thankfully didn’t.

Work wasn’t too bad. Except for having to do two site surveys, one of which I got out of because the person wasn’t available. I hate phones.

Oh how optimistic this all sounds.

Was overtired. The coffee at work isn’t as great as it used to be for some reason. I can’t bring myself to drink coke yet after too much social justice talk so had Sunkist which in reality is probably just as bad. I think it’s placebo. So it was tea when I got there, and coffee this afternoon ha ha no, not fair trade.

The races are on. I don’t know which ones now. I entirely missed seeing the cup on Tuesday – I don’t really care much. Heaps of dressed up, hat/facinator/low cut dressed at the station. Look a bit ridiculous, a lot of them. Ha, but then onto the train. Wow, it was so entirely amusing. These four old (60yrs’ish) women, chatting really loudly. They were coordinated perfectly. Purple and red, each different, all matching. It was really quite funny. I saw the older guy facing me turn around and look have a bit of a laugh to himself. I was grinning behind my hand and headphones. They had an animated conversation about how ‘young men’ should be polite by offering their seats up, and then questioned whether people should offer seats to old men etcetera. “It’s manners”. They were dressed to varying taste. The woman whose face I could see had a fairly flat purple hat with bright red feathers around the brim, it was pretty tacky, but some of the others had it just about right. It made me think of the movie, “Mrs. Calidcot and the Cabbage War” – old ladies with attitude.

I couldn’t see them for most of the trip as the train was packed, but when they got off, red feathers had hot pink bag and umbrella. Ah dear.

Was perfect and unusal and so entirely entertaining. They walked out as if they were dressed to the nines and into a culture entirely unlike that of the 21st Century.

Home now. Late but not really. Have got in the door and need to head dump to page.

Last night.

Hello brain immaturity.

Began to seriously question what I’m doing with my life.

I really like Tabor. I mean really like it. The community aspect of the place, the people. I have previously questioned coming back one day.

So I reconsidered (this was running through my head about a month back) next year and not going to uni, but going to do a Bach. of Ministry or something (at Tabor) instead. I had myself semi-convinced as of the moment that uni seems pretty pointless, I am unsure about my course, I don’t know if it is what I want to do with my life. I am interested in it yes, but yeah.

Talked about ‘the Christian Bubble’ ie: the fish tank analogy for those youth min people. I pushed this idea to the side. I know it, I knew it, I wanted to ignore it. There is still relevance where I am at the moment (head arguement). I’m finding it really hard to look that far ahead to when I am no longer studying.

I am not entirely sure if I intentionally directed the conversation towards feeling really out of community, I guess lost. Not really having a church. Not that traditional definitons of church really do anything for me at the moment. They don’t. I go to hope to get something out of the sermon, thats it. I don’t have relationships there, ha I don’t even have many familiar places, I don’t have people to look up to, or people to look up to me.

Essentially. I think I was, and am afraid what will happen next year.

I know exactly what I should be doing (which is going forward as planned next year), and how irrational I was being last night.

“So do you want to go to Tabor to exist in a Christian community, or do you want to do a Bachelor of Ministry?”

I knew the answer to this question Paul before you asked it. My motivations for staying are wrong. It is not the time for me to be sticking around. Someone might have well have taken the piece of paper of my life and folded it and cut squares and bits out of it for all the places I’ve left. Leaving things sucks, I’m so tired of it. But I needed to hear that, really needed to have a slap in the face with my own rationality from another’s words. Thank you.

Sleep and a 30 second thought on the train about it this afternoon and things are so blindingly obvious. What messed with my head was not good, I guess in some ways it’s useful to deal with it before I get three months down the track and wonder if I’m in the wrong place.

Well theres a varied blog post if I ever saw one. Now to ha, actually do those things on my to-do list.

General On The Train Relationships YITS

Ok so I didn’t write yesterday. I might as well do it now as the train is relatively empty meaning that I don’t have other eyes reading this.

Today. Comparitively better than yesterday. Work yes. Melbourne like a freezer but still beautiful. Went out the back to feed Job around 7:15am this morning, still hints of sunrise, full moon, sky completely clear and an eagle. Quite surreal.

Work was work, fairly enjoyable but left wrist playing up again. And now I’m going home.

There is a guy infront of me (not same seat set). He’s wearing an orange work vest that says “Push me for responce” (spelling as written). I wonder if he knows…

Yesterday. One of those days. Fell up stairs on way out of Spencer St. A weird guy on the the tram. Skitzophrenic – or something not quite right. He was leering at anyone female. Sat opposite me and tried talking…’why wont you talk to me’. I might have said fractionally more than nothing if it were someone else. I’d say hello to the asian guy 🙂 the one who repeats ‘channel 9 news’ over and over, but this guy was plain creepy. Ignored him and had to reread the one page of my book about three times for it to make any sense. Pity that, being the last page of Hitchhikers, you kind of want to end in style. He finally moved. So nice unsettling time. Hate stuff like that. Semi bothered others. just noticeably hanging round other women a few seats down.

Lunch with Jess C – that was ok. had to do most of the talking….(omitted part) Few awkward silences. It is worth the effort to get to know her better. I feel older than her, which in reality is not true.

Hmm don’t know what made me class yesterday as ‘bad’ I guess the morning’s stuff. A foul mood.

I did get a photo of my door (have I mentioned the orange door?). Took it in a hurry so not hugely great. Can’t put on blog til Burkie goes out and finds it for himself – somehow got me to promise that. something about it being ‘new’

I have my eccentricities (sp?) – if anyone else appreciates quirks in the same way – well.
The door is probably not worth half a blink to many … person walks past, “oh orange door” and promptly forgets.

A good thing – went to Alecia’s for dinner with Jess W an dSam. Lasagne – got to meet a few of her housemates. Played a game called Apples to Apples. Highly enjoyable. Love company and doing things out of the ordinary.

This writing is such a mess – hopefully recognisable to get down somewhere elses. This is in the notebook – originally for Group Focus stuff, it now lives in my backpack and serves numerous purpose, random thinkings on trains on occasion.

*Nunawadding Station

Should get to Moorolbark by 6:15ish maybe fractionally earlier.

It’s funny how you catch the same train every once, even twice a week then you are waiting on the platform and see the screen change to 5:16 Moorolgbark and think, “Oh good – this is mine. Why’s it not going to Lilydale?” You get on anyway and 5 minutes after sitting down realise you normally get the 5:23 which completely…

*Mitcham Station

…explains why it is not a Lilydale train and feel rather stupid for not giving it half a though initially.

Called Dad/Em/Home/Laura and finally got through to Laura who isn’t at home. So recalled home and eventually got on to them. Mum’s picking…

*Heatherdale Station

…me up from Moorl. and we are going on to Eastland.

And I am changing tenses (writing) all over the place.

I’m reading Provence a book about France. Has no real story line as such, beautiful description. People rant on and on with crappy metaphors. This guy – when he uses them- creates far better ones.

*Ringwood Station

Actually there is a story. Just a guy and his wife’s year living in Provence. So more small narratives of their life. I think it is true, I recall seeing the date 1989…

*Ringwood East Station

… somwhere.

I am sittin gat the wrong end of the train – 3 I think from the front which means I have to walk lots once I get to the sation – then again, its’ Moorl. maybe not.

Haha I could bore myself writing this. But can’t be bothered with more France right now. I have Relient K up nice and loud.

*Croydon… hmm not so late

Called Mum again to come now so I don’t have to wait in the cold.

Stopping now. nearly there.

The end of lovely boring train ride which I quite enjoyed.

🙂

*Moorolbark Station

———–

*long wait in the cold

General On The Train

Such fun. my mind hasn’t done this in ages. Run fantastically colourful tangents following every thought path and so reliving aspects of the day in a strangely inspired way.

Complaints about Connex. Appoligies to the one I normally have this conversation with as you almost got a message however my inability to be bothered learning how to use the dictionary in my phone properly and hence slowish method of letter by letter hadn’t quite spelled out my annoyance and thanks for your previous message, when the train started moving again. So I deleted the message before it was sent. My technology intrest has not yet breached the mobile gap. Ever moving as it is.

Aside from the slight deviation of speed, the train home was exceptionally boring aside from a good hour of ‘the Heart of Gold’, follooping mattresses named Zem and 2 second whale realities (although thats been a few weeks now) aka. Hitchhikers (Guide to the Galaxy, the books following), there were boring passengers. One while still boring, annoyed me no end when she opens her dim-sim semblanced chicken and stunk out the carriage. I have no problem with others eating on the train, hence the flake I grabbed on the way out of work and the apple I ate, reminiscent of breakfast I ate, also on the train. But food that smells. Likened to profound ‘why oh why’ moments of when you sit next to a smoker or some nose blocked old lady drowning in perfume.

No work tomorrow. Some stroke of pure loveliness. Don’t get me wrong I like work, but I am half burnt and exceptionally in need of a holiday. When hearing it I could have gone hysterically mad crying from relief. But as that is a very unBec thing to do, I didn’t. It is also a slight exaggeration. I could say it ‘put a spring in my step’ but I am too tired for that and for the moment that’s oldfashioned. A smile is as close as I got to the former.

Seeing as I am refering to methods of being unBec’ish I will complain about something girly, because it is a rare thing that I give it half a vocal thought. Skin. Much to do with my tendancy of getting absorbed in the book I’m reading, the window I’m staring out of or the faces I am observing while having my hand on my forehead, chin, cheek, you name it. Comparable to Saturn at the moment. Having been enlightened by the MX (some prototype of a newspaper) that Saturn’s mysterious ‘blue lakes’ are actually closely related to ethane, and hence there just must be volcanoes below this swirlling mass of cloudy whatever and no such marvellous lakes afterall. Metaphorically. I shall have to hope that volcano likened pimples disappear under a swirlling mass of something esle. Again I exaggerate to the severity of the situation. Again I could blame this on Connex. Although travelling from point A to point B is a useful thing so I wont.

Had some Switchfoot song trailing patterns in my head all day. I can’t remember it now. Walking down Bridport St with one wet sock to return the majority of the addressed envelopes I found on the floor at work. Noticed that the Albert Park yuppieville has finally begun to show it’s true self. Normality, eccentricity and the ‘quirks’ that inspire my mind. I like this place.
In addition to my fabled orange door. There appeared a few doors up and multicoloured bench seat, each rung different to eachother, a plain quite nice terrace house was immediately transformed into something vastly more interesting. A door up from that was evidence of normality in the way of a very normal looking pair of dirty runners. Finding evidence of life aside from the traditional thursday manicurist patrons was pleasant. Saying thus, I am walking the street backwards. In reality, it was the shoes, then bench, then my door.
I like drivers who wave you across so you don’t have to wait any longer in the puddle you were already standing in.

And now the wordsmithing streak has run fairly dry.

I am not drunk. I have never been drunk. I have been thinking I would like to experience this, in that a friends theory determines that I would be a happy not angry drunk… and would say ridiculous things. If it is in anyway like the way I go when on cold and flu tablets it would certainly be the case. Experience, but externally. More for the aspect that I would like to see what I would say and hence get a better look at what’s really going on in my head.

Enough twisted logic I say! I do not want to get drunk. This is purely evidence of my extraverted quirk tainted mind.

General On The Train