I still remember the first time I ever won something. Or, at least, it's the earliest memory I have of winning something... but I do remember that, at the time, moments before I won the thing, I was reflecting on how I never win anything. Then, I won it... it was a card of the Hamburgler, I think, one of those things that you put in the oven and when it comes out it's shrunk and turned into this hard, thick, plastic thing that, if you wanted to, you could put a piece of string through the little hole at the top and tie it around your neck or something? I even remember how I reacted when I won. It was just like, "Oh, ok, I didn't really expect that to happen."
Considering I was about ten years old at the time, it seemed silly how I lamented how I never win anything, since I hadn't really been alive for that long to have had many opportunities to win a whole lot. Still, I suppose ten years feels like your entire life when you're only ten years old.
Today, I went to this church social event for women, this Women's Movie and Dessert night or something. Brought a couple friends with me and had a nice time. They had a free raffle... now, I never win raffles when I pay for it, but I have some uncanny luck when it comes to free raffles where I get a ticket just for turning up, like at, say, church events. I have an "Admit Two" pass to Pinewood Shopping Centre. I already know what I want to see. I want to see "Bran Nue Dae." The question is, who do I want to see it with?
There's a part of me that wants me to ask Yew again, give it another go, but I already know he's not interested and I'd just be embarrassing myself. I'll probably just ask one of my friends.
27 February 2010
24 February 2010
A Head of Hair
Well, I'm shaving my head on the 13th March for the World's Greatest Shave. It's to raise money to help provide treatment for people with Leukemia and that sort of thing. Why am I doing this? When it comes down to it, the best answer I can come up with is, why not?
Am I just being selfless? Getting involved in something that will help others? Perhaps. I don't know. I care about people who are suffering, whoever they are, whatever their suffering is, but it's not like I'm personally involved with leukemia or that it's something that I am particularly passionate about. Is there another reason?
At the time when I decided I would do this, I was thinking of cutting my hair, anyway, when an ad encouraging people to do the greatest shave came up, and I thought, if I'm going to cut it, anyway, why not raise money for a good cause while I'm at it?
It might also be interesting to note that the timing was a little bit after the breakdown of my parents' marriage and feeling depressed about not having a job. A part of me wonders if my decision was based on needing to control something in my life. Whether or not this is true, it doesn't really matter, now, and I don't regret the decision.
The truth is, hair has never been that important to me. It's just... there. I never do anything with it except tie it back in a pony tail to keep it out of my face. People compliment me on my hair all the time; how long it is, how thick it is, the slight wave that goes through it, every now and then somebody notices a hint of red in there, but the only reason it's gotten as long as it has is because I don't really think about it often enough to go to a hair dresser on a regular basis. It wasn't hard work to grow my hair long - it kind of just did that on its own. For this reason I've often thought that my hair was wasted on me - I really don't appreciate it like some people appreciate their hair. I always thought that somebody who cares more about hair and doesn't like their own hair should've had my hair.
So when people call me "brave" for deciding to shave my hair, I don't really get it. I mean, it's hair, it grows back, right? It's not like I'm cutting off my ear or my finger! Besides, it makes the back of my neck too hot and it takes ages to wash and it's annoying to brush. Still, when they say I'm brave I take the compliment, and I appreciate the support and encouragement.
So I've raised the goal I set for myself, I've set a date for when it's going to happen, it's all getting organised and will unfold. So, how do I feel about it? Well, as long as I only consult myself, I feel absolutely comfortable with my decision. Any doubts that enter my mind are met with a resolve to not cling on to vanity. Most people who know about it are at supportive or, at the very least, respectful of my decision. But then, every now and then I get a negative response. "Please don't do it." "You should've decided to just colour your hair." "There's no way I'm going to support you shaving your head!"
Comments like that really don't help at all, and I don't get it. Am I not understanding how drastic this is or something? It's hair! People mess around with their hair all the time! It grows back! It's not like I'm getting a tattoo. In a way, it's even less drastic than someone getting their ears pierced!
I've raised over $600 doing this, and it is very encouraging that I've met my goal and I am very grateful to all the people who pitched in to help me get there. People have donated with the expectation that I'd go through with it. It'd be a lot harder to admit to those people that I "chickened out" than having to deal with less compliments about my hair, and any stares or shock I might inspire in people is just an opportunity to raise awareness for the issue. To break this commitment for the sake of vanity and peer pressure would be a lot more embarrassing to me than a naked head. I don't understand why people even think it is worthwhile to try and change my mind at this stage, and it just makes me feel a lot more unsure about the whole thing at a time when it's much too late to turn back. I don't understand why people think that my head of hair somehow has more value than the lives of people suffering from terrible diseases.
Am I just being selfless? Getting involved in something that will help others? Perhaps. I don't know. I care about people who are suffering, whoever they are, whatever their suffering is, but it's not like I'm personally involved with leukemia or that it's something that I am particularly passionate about. Is there another reason?
At the time when I decided I would do this, I was thinking of cutting my hair, anyway, when an ad encouraging people to do the greatest shave came up, and I thought, if I'm going to cut it, anyway, why not raise money for a good cause while I'm at it?
It might also be interesting to note that the timing was a little bit after the breakdown of my parents' marriage and feeling depressed about not having a job. A part of me wonders if my decision was based on needing to control something in my life. Whether or not this is true, it doesn't really matter, now, and I don't regret the decision.
The truth is, hair has never been that important to me. It's just... there. I never do anything with it except tie it back in a pony tail to keep it out of my face. People compliment me on my hair all the time; how long it is, how thick it is, the slight wave that goes through it, every now and then somebody notices a hint of red in there, but the only reason it's gotten as long as it has is because I don't really think about it often enough to go to a hair dresser on a regular basis. It wasn't hard work to grow my hair long - it kind of just did that on its own. For this reason I've often thought that my hair was wasted on me - I really don't appreciate it like some people appreciate their hair. I always thought that somebody who cares more about hair and doesn't like their own hair should've had my hair.
So when people call me "brave" for deciding to shave my hair, I don't really get it. I mean, it's hair, it grows back, right? It's not like I'm cutting off my ear or my finger! Besides, it makes the back of my neck too hot and it takes ages to wash and it's annoying to brush. Still, when they say I'm brave I take the compliment, and I appreciate the support and encouragement.
So I've raised the goal I set for myself, I've set a date for when it's going to happen, it's all getting organised and will unfold. So, how do I feel about it? Well, as long as I only consult myself, I feel absolutely comfortable with my decision. Any doubts that enter my mind are met with a resolve to not cling on to vanity. Most people who know about it are at supportive or, at the very least, respectful of my decision. But then, every now and then I get a negative response. "Please don't do it." "You should've decided to just colour your hair." "There's no way I'm going to support you shaving your head!"
Comments like that really don't help at all, and I don't get it. Am I not understanding how drastic this is or something? It's hair! People mess around with their hair all the time! It grows back! It's not like I'm getting a tattoo. In a way, it's even less drastic than someone getting their ears pierced!
I've raised over $600 doing this, and it is very encouraging that I've met my goal and I am very grateful to all the people who pitched in to help me get there. People have donated with the expectation that I'd go through with it. It'd be a lot harder to admit to those people that I "chickened out" than having to deal with less compliments about my hair, and any stares or shock I might inspire in people is just an opportunity to raise awareness for the issue. To break this commitment for the sake of vanity and peer pressure would be a lot more embarrassing to me than a naked head. I don't understand why people even think it is worthwhile to try and change my mind at this stage, and it just makes me feel a lot more unsure about the whole thing at a time when it's much too late to turn back. I don't understand why people think that my head of hair somehow has more value than the lives of people suffering from terrible diseases.
20 February 2010
Beit HaMashiach
Went to church today. Yes, it is a Saturday. No, I'm not a seventh day adventist. It's called Beit HaMashiach, and it was a messianic jewish congregation... That is, both jews and gentiles following the Jewish traditions, but who also believe that Yeshua (Jesus) is the messiah. Dad and I had gone there once before a while ago so this was our second visit, and it was quite good because it was also the same day that a couple of girls had their bat mitzvah, where they become accountable for themselves before God, (previously their parents would be accountable) so it was a very celebratory service.
I'm not Jewish, but I quite like the idea of a bat mitzvah or bar mitzvah. In the Western world there aren't that many rites of passage and the ones that exist informally tend to promote privilege and even recklessness rather than responsibility, such as getting drunk or smoking your first cigarette, that kind of thing. I like the idea of having a definite transition from childhood to adulthood, clarification for the individual where they understand that they're responsible for their own moral actions, rather than the blurred kind of line that many of us have. They are still under the authority of their parents until they're eighteen, but they have to answer to God for themselves, now, according to what I understand of Jewish tradition.
Also, it's not just suddenly they turn twelve or thirteen, (twelve for girls, thirteen for boys) have a ceremony and BAM! They're adults, they have to read out or recite prayers in Hebrew, the two girls actually lead the service, sung the blessings, that sort of thing, and it would have been something they would have had to study and practice for.
Oh, and afterwards, while I was there, I noticed a lady who I thought looked remarkably like an old teacher... only, I couldn't remember what the name of the teacher was! Then, when I saw her standing next to another old school teacher of mine, I was certain it was them. The other teacher's name I did remember, so I approached them and the second teacher recognised me but had to think to remember my name. Oh, and while I was chatting to her, she mentioned a third teacher that I used to have from that old school worshipped there, too! Although, I didn't see or meet him that day.
Shabbat Shalom!
I'm not Jewish, but I quite like the idea of a bat mitzvah or bar mitzvah. In the Western world there aren't that many rites of passage and the ones that exist informally tend to promote privilege and even recklessness rather than responsibility, such as getting drunk or smoking your first cigarette, that kind of thing. I like the idea of having a definite transition from childhood to adulthood, clarification for the individual where they understand that they're responsible for their own moral actions, rather than the blurred kind of line that many of us have. They are still under the authority of their parents until they're eighteen, but they have to answer to God for themselves, now, according to what I understand of Jewish tradition.
Also, it's not just suddenly they turn twelve or thirteen, (twelve for girls, thirteen for boys) have a ceremony and BAM! They're adults, they have to read out or recite prayers in Hebrew, the two girls actually lead the service, sung the blessings, that sort of thing, and it would have been something they would have had to study and practice for.
Oh, and afterwards, while I was there, I noticed a lady who I thought looked remarkably like an old teacher... only, I couldn't remember what the name of the teacher was! Then, when I saw her standing next to another old school teacher of mine, I was certain it was them. The other teacher's name I did remember, so I approached them and the second teacher recognised me but had to think to remember my name. Oh, and while I was chatting to her, she mentioned a third teacher that I used to have from that old school worshipped there, too! Although, I didn't see or meet him that day.
Shabbat Shalom!
19 February 2010
Cheer up!
The start to this blog has been a bit of a downer with the last couple of entries, and I don't really want this to be a downer-kind of blog, so I didn't want to write this next entry until I was in a better mood than I have been the last few days.
I am in a better mood, today, except I don't really have anything to say... Funny how that works out, huh?
I did visit my friend, jestar, today, who may have something to do with me not being in a crappy mood. I got some writing done yesterday, too, worked on a short story that I had been stumped with for a while and I went and unstumped myself.
And, in the spirit of being not-depressing, here's a song about rainbows:
I am in a better mood, today, except I don't really have anything to say... Funny how that works out, huh?
I did visit my friend, jestar, today, who may have something to do with me not being in a crappy mood. I got some writing done yesterday, too, worked on a short story that I had been stumped with for a while and I went and unstumped myself.
And, in the spirit of being not-depressing, here's a song about rainbows:
17 February 2010
Sharing
Today's been a bit of a haze, and things that were this morning (my class) feels like it was yesterday.
Although my parents are still living in the same house, they are "seperated". Earlier I was lamenting on how that they make seperate dinners now, not that we've ever been an "eat around the table" family, but... mum and dad are making their own dinners seperately, eating different things. Mum makes enough for me. Sometimes she makes too much for me to eat and I give my leftovers to dad, but if she knew, I don't think she'd be happy about it. I don't care. It's better than wasting food.
I was just thinking about this when I wandered over to mum's room, and I talked to her for a bit, and when I was leaving, she said, "Grab a couple rolls of toilet paper for personal use." I look and see several rolls of toilet paper being hoarded in her room. Turns out dad hasn't been giving her enough money to buy all the things she needs to buy for everyone, so he can "buy his own toilet paper." So we're not only not sharing meals anymore, we're not sharing toilet paper, either.
It kind of upset me, for some reason.
Although my parents are still living in the same house, they are "seperated". Earlier I was lamenting on how that they make seperate dinners now, not that we've ever been an "eat around the table" family, but... mum and dad are making their own dinners seperately, eating different things. Mum makes enough for me. Sometimes she makes too much for me to eat and I give my leftovers to dad, but if she knew, I don't think she'd be happy about it. I don't care. It's better than wasting food.
I was just thinking about this when I wandered over to mum's room, and I talked to her for a bit, and when I was leaving, she said, "Grab a couple rolls of toilet paper for personal use." I look and see several rolls of toilet paper being hoarded in her room. Turns out dad hasn't been giving her enough money to buy all the things she needs to buy for everyone, so he can "buy his own toilet paper." So we're not only not sharing meals anymore, we're not sharing toilet paper, either.
It kind of upset me, for some reason.
16 February 2010
A good day... almost
Today was mostly a good day, but... you know you have those days which the whole day was good except for maybe one thing and right at the end you feel kind of melancholy, still? Or... a day where everything goes wrong except you find at the end of the day, you're somehow, miraculously, in a good mood, anyway? So today was a good day, I suppose, for the most part. Had my second "Small Press Publishing" class today. When I first signed up for that class I wasn't sure what it'd be like but I'm REALLY enjoying it so far, it looks like it could be a lot of fun. We get to publish at least two, possibly up to four magazines, plus a book. It's pretty exciting and it'd feel great at the end of the year to actually have those magazines and that book, physically there, that I can say I, personally, was involved in the production of.
Afterwards I visited my friends who are having some troubles with their marriage, and while I was there my hand, without consulting my brain, sent a phone message inviting this guy I know, (I'll call him Yew) asking if he wanted to have lunch on Saturday. I was relieved when it didn't send because of bad reception, up until my rebellious hand just went and resent it. It sent the second time. I didn't have the opportunity to immediately freak out, though, because I was still with my friends.
When Yew replied, it was a rejection and, I won't say that I wasn't disappointed, but I think I was okay with it. I was kind of expecting it and it's not like I wanted to slit my wrists or anything, but I guess I wasn't very chirpy, either, because my friends kept asking me "What's wrong?" and "Is everything ok?" even though I didn't think I was acting that differently, except maybe that I was a little distracted. I told them I was tired, which wasn't a lie. (I don't open up to them about boys anymore since the last time... that hour-long lecture I got was, although well-meaning, also a little bit painful.)
I said I'd take the train home but my friend said he'd give me a lift, and he did, and I tried to be a good listener as he opened up to me about the troubles in his marriage, which were a lot more serious than my troubles. I kind of feel bad that these friends of mine seem a lot more ready to open up to me than me to them, but it's not like I pressure them to open up to me, they choose to do so out of their own free will. But I don't like the way they feel "sorry" for me if I open up to them, nor do I find their advice or insights about these sorts of things all that helpful. Anyway, their marriage involving a child potentially breaking up is a lot more serious than some guy rejecting a lunch invitation, but I was tired and I wanted to be on my own to feel a little bit sad about my tiny little thing.
I find it hard, though, marriages are breaking up all around me, people in Haiti, as well as many other places in the world, are suffering terribly, people are struggling to support their families, people with diseases living everyday with pain I've never experienced even once in my life. Sometimes I find it hard to let myself feel sad about something so little like being rejected.
Looking back I guess my day was, overall, a good day, in that I really enjoyed my class, and it was bright and sunny and nice, and I got a lift home.
Afterwards I visited my friends who are having some troubles with their marriage, and while I was there my hand, without consulting my brain, sent a phone message inviting this guy I know, (I'll call him Yew) asking if he wanted to have lunch on Saturday. I was relieved when it didn't send because of bad reception, up until my rebellious hand just went and resent it. It sent the second time. I didn't have the opportunity to immediately freak out, though, because I was still with my friends.
When Yew replied, it was a rejection and, I won't say that I wasn't disappointed, but I think I was okay with it. I was kind of expecting it and it's not like I wanted to slit my wrists or anything, but I guess I wasn't very chirpy, either, because my friends kept asking me "What's wrong?" and "Is everything ok?" even though I didn't think I was acting that differently, except maybe that I was a little distracted. I told them I was tired, which wasn't a lie. (I don't open up to them about boys anymore since the last time... that hour-long lecture I got was, although well-meaning, also a little bit painful.)
I said I'd take the train home but my friend said he'd give me a lift, and he did, and I tried to be a good listener as he opened up to me about the troubles in his marriage, which were a lot more serious than my troubles. I kind of feel bad that these friends of mine seem a lot more ready to open up to me than me to them, but it's not like I pressure them to open up to me, they choose to do so out of their own free will. But I don't like the way they feel "sorry" for me if I open up to them, nor do I find their advice or insights about these sorts of things all that helpful. Anyway, their marriage involving a child potentially breaking up is a lot more serious than some guy rejecting a lunch invitation, but I was tired and I wanted to be on my own to feel a little bit sad about my tiny little thing.
I find it hard, though, marriages are breaking up all around me, people in Haiti, as well as many other places in the world, are suffering terribly, people are struggling to support their families, people with diseases living everyday with pain I've never experienced even once in my life. Sometimes I find it hard to let myself feel sad about something so little like being rejected.
Looking back I guess my day was, overall, a good day, in that I really enjoyed my class, and it was bright and sunny and nice, and I got a lift home.
15 February 2010
Introductions
This is my own personal blog for my own personal use. I do not anticipate that more than maybe one person would look at it with any regularity, but here it is. Thank you for taking the time to stop and have a look at it.
I live in Australia. I am female. I am a Christian. I like to read. I like to write. I like to blog. I like thinking about stuff. I'm not very good at introductions.
Anything else about myself I may or may not decide to reveal as it comes, or doesn't come, up during the blogging process.
I live in Australia. I am female. I am a Christian. I like to read. I like to write. I like to blog. I like thinking about stuff. I'm not very good at introductions.
Anything else about myself I may or may not decide to reveal as it comes, or doesn't come, up during the blogging process.
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