No rest for the wicked. I always wondered about that idiom. But I’m certainly not finding time recently. I’ve had to go down to Brisbane twice since I moved up here. 600km trips to see specialists. Oh What fun. Gladstone lack many medical facilities because of it’s rural nature. I even had to go to Rockhampton (2 1/2 hour drive) for my routine MRI because the local MRI unit can only be used for emergency purposes (or if people can afford to shell out $180 that medicare won’t cover). I’m also starting voluntary positions with the Rspca and Welcoming Intercultural Neighbors INC. (WIN). I’m trying out as an Adoption Officer for the former and a Reporter for the latter. Both should be interesting experiences and it will be good to have some work to do again. I’ve also gone ahead and jumped into the crazy pool by applying for a Master’s of social work. Full-time. I will be testing my brain function on soooo many levels with this work load. Any hour work requirements I have to almost double to account for inability to concentrate/memorise and fatigue. -_- If there is any wickedness here, it is my own inability to sit still. Then there are these two hairy babies.
The dainty, little Border Collie is Charley, and the big, boof-head is
Max. I’ve been helping look after them since I moved in with my grandmother. They require generous walks and lots attention. I have to be careful these days, because they know where I sleep. IF I try to hide around walk time they sit outside my window and whine loudly!
Charley is a 12 year old lady, and is very timid. She was runt of the litter and my Aunt adopted her with her big, bully of a sister, Pepper. Charley has always been dainty for her breed and that make it easy for other dogs to pick on her. Even my sister’s tiny chihuahua has her cowering in fear. When I moved in, she would hide in the background because Max would constantly push her out of the way when pats were being given. She’s a lot more confident now and surprisingly excitable. Her favourite spot is sleeping under someone’s chair. When bush walking she always trots back to check on me and if Max dares to come over while she’s getting pats she now snarls. She has show herself to be possessive and easily gets jealous. She is a little bit deaf but even in hearing range she can be a little bit cheeky and does naughty things frequently.
Max is 8 but still acts 8 months. He’s used to being babied and has no qualms about pushing his way in for pats. He even expects me to go over and pat him while he’s lazying around. He’s a big dog, and causes himself issues because he’s very excitable and has a tendency to jump up. For some reason he thinks touching his ears is an invitation to play-fight so it’s impossible to get any medication in. He loves playing with his tyre-chew toy, gambling about and lazing in the sun. He has always been far better behaved then Charley. He’s really a big sook and wants to be friends with everyone.
I’m back to understanding the literal meaning of my writing handle! Recently I’ve made the mistake of attempting to write just before I go to bed. This plan resulted in absolute failure. The moment I remove my glasses and shut of the light the power of my brain seems to go with it. I have been doing so much recently that I’m becoming very aware of my body will and won’t let me do. Apparently I should not attempt to write before bed; amongst other things. -_-
In about a week I fly back to England. This time I will be flying back to say goodbye to Britain. (Yes, Pommies! I called it Britain 😛 Whatcha going to do about it, huh?) I am migrating back permanently (for now, as I live in hope). This means a speedy Clean out session of my possessions, (Just picture my face contorted in horror) I’m suddenly glad I’ve had a cleansing session before every move and had a clean out just over a month ago. By early July I will be in Australia and thanking the sliver of luck I have had at migrating back during WINTER.
Exhibit A: Soaked Koala – The very reason for the existence of the Drop Bear myth. They may look cute and cuddly. They may sleep up to 18 hours a day. Don’t let that fool you; they are vicious.
Exhibit B: Magpie – The actual inspiration for the ‘Angry Birds’ franchise. Magpies may warble beautifully but take cover during hatching season. These little buggers are out for blood. A common Australian defense tactic is to paint eyes on an ice cream bucket and wear it like a helmet. Fierce as they are, Magpies spook if you look directly at them. Why not use a helmet? That would require sanity!
Exhibit C: Starfleets response to the WW2 Japanese invasion of Northern Australia. Some defense force they turned out to be. All we got was some hogwash about the ‘Temporal Prime Directive’. We know how much effort they put into upholding that particular directive. >.>
Despite all our deadlies this is a far more likely crew to run across. They may look like they have stepped off a page of the long-running New Zealand comic ‘Footrot Flats’ but in outback farm country similar scenes are not unlikely.
Annnd there you have it, my dose of semi-fiction for the day. Nothing like a bit of satire to start the morning. 😀
Stays up all night
though exhaustion makes
phase in and out.
Have to control
insomnia to sleep
My sleeping pattern is right out of whack; it has been for a while now. It’s never a good sign. 🙂
The jolt that hits you when you pick up the letter containing your next appointment time is unsettling. You try to rationalize it but deep down the sense of foreboding will never completely disappear. My last MRI was in early January. I know that the specialists have left my appointment till March – a whole 2 months later, is a very good sign. I’m only in for a follow up, which is brilliant; all considered. I may have had a door cut into my skull and sizable portion of unnatural brain matter removed, but for now the only problem is recovery.
I’m no longer sure what ‘recovery’ means for me. My ‘normal’ ways of living are a thing of the past. I can count on seizures to knock away my control. Brain damage impacts ‘normal’ functions on a regular basis. My sense of normal is now completely askew. Thankfully I’m no longer badly depressed about the loss of my lifestyle. However, I’m now going to struggle with roadblocks to successful functionality placed in my way by society.
I am currently job hunting for a job that will allow me to phase into work. I’m unable to work over certain hours for medical reasons. Now I am actually timid about the whole prospect about returning to work to begin with. I have had chronic pain for years but now I have a horde of physical limitation that will affect the kind of work I can do. In this aspect I will just soldier on like I always have. The clincher comes in during interviews. Every time I explain my current medical state/enforced sick leave, I can see in the interviewer’s eyes what’s going to happen. The are going to dismiss my extensive experience and politely tell me that they have either a more suitable candidate or give me bullshit about the job being ill-suited for me in some way. Now I’m being very careful in choosing the jobs I apply for at the moment – taking into consideration my condition and the job demands, so the idea that I’ve picked an unsuitable job is ludicrous. I will, literally, apply for anything I think I’m capable of doing. The example that best exemplifies the challenge I face is my recent experience with Mcdonalds.
I have a culmative 2 years of experience working for Mcdonalds. I have a Customer Care Diploma from their ‘university’. I applied for a part-time position at a store 3mins walk away. I worked at stores far busier than that one. I also have a diverse set of experiences from other areas of hospitality. Basically, I’m good. And that’s not intended as a boast. I just have been working responsibly, diligently and without adequate rest since I went independent. They had me in for 2 interviews (not ever happened with maccers, the last time I was hired on the spot!). Then I got THE line: I need to speak with the store owner. I knew exactly what to expect when I got the auto email once I heard that. It was generic template email. It suggested I either apply at a closer store to where I live (Ha! I knew they were putting in one downstairs) or that I apply for one more suited to my availability or hours (Hmmm when did fully-flexible become restrictive? And isn’t 16 hours part-time?). I am irritated because this is what I’ll face no matter what job I apply for. But it’s such a ridiculous response that I can’t stop laughing at it to be offended. Still, at least they bothered to interview me; I know a lot are just skipping over my application.
I really do have better things to with my time then to be hampered by society devaluing my labour value because of a unavoidable medical condition that has given me disabilities. I will attack job hunting from other angles. Meanwhile I write.
The piece I’ve written based on the photo prompt for ‘Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers‘, a new writing challenge in it’s debut week. Join in if you like.
Susan fled to quiet of Café Moca, relaxed by the musty scent of books. Coffee, books, company; the perfect retreat from stress. Aiden, the barrister, waved as he spotted her. “Hey, Suz!”
“Hey, Sugar. You still working?”
“Aw, nice to see you too!” He replied, flashing a cheeky grin as he worked.
“You know you’re the highlight of my day,” Susan replied, leaning onto the counter. Aiden already had her double-strength latte, with home-made Victoria sponge, coming. Tuesday – sponge day, she smiled. “That’s the coffee,” Aiden replied.
“Absolutely! Aiden… When was the last day you had off?” She worried.
“Eh? Aah… The last part-timer quit last week. I’m holding out till Mick can hire someone.”
“No wonder you look wrecked. I’ll send Clara over; she needs a job.”
“Suzzie, you’re a lifesaver. I could finally see Mick! The cake’s on the house.” Sweet! She could kiss Aiden. But, she mused, Mick would be pissed.