Well, the last assignment for NET11 has been completed, which means that I am now finished that "round" of units off-campus, and am ready to start the next round. These are LST210, POI21, VIS14 and VIS15. Actually, to be honest, I'm looking forwards to the two Visual Arts Theory units; something different to break things up a bit.
Assignment-wise, there seems to be more of less, in that there are more assignments, but they are - on average - smaller. I'd like to think that this is a good thing, but whatever thing it is it's what I've got so I'll battle on regardless.
M will be happy that I've finished these units; this round of units - or particularly the last two weeks of it - have been fairly rough on her. I won't say we've been strangers, because we haven't, but we've missed each other. The kids won't notice the change; I worked hard at trying to maintain some normality with them.
This round I have to do things differently. I have to maintain a viable lifestyle. I have to complete enough study to be getting ahead every week. I need to be spending some time each week on V. I need to spend some time each week on the other house, to start getting it in a more acceptable condition. I need to spend time with my family, and on this, and on that. And let's not forget on-campus studies, which are only going to get busier.
So there is no time to rest yet. The future looks busy, and just as I lay this round to rest, another stomps in, bright and bold, big and daunting.
Life, as always, and ever, one thing after the other.
Tuesday, August 31, 2004
Friday, August 27, 2004
Satisfaction
I have got all of my assignments completed except for one - NET11 - and the feeling I have right now, having just submitted one for NET12 electronically, is quite satisfying. I feel like I am there, home and hosed, over the last hurdle, and any other cliches that you can think of. In addition to this, I went to the Writers' Festival today with the on campus students and it was great. I kind of feel like I am getting it all back together again.
I have felt very distant from my on campus studies for a while; detached. I've missed so much this term due to various illnesses, and then having to catch up with studies off campus.
But now I've almost caught up - smug smug smug smug - oh I feel happy.....
At least until I have to start the assignment for NET11, but that is not for days (or day at least!)
I feel happy......
Yes, and so on that note, I think I'll go to bed before midnight. Hows that, hey. Before midnight. And this weekend, we're going for a drive, and I might even get to watch a movie, hey. So what do you think of that.
Mmmm, yes, off I go to bed, goody goody goody.
Toodles.
I have felt very distant from my on campus studies for a while; detached. I've missed so much this term due to various illnesses, and then having to catch up with studies off campus.
But now I've almost caught up - smug smug smug smug - oh I feel happy.....
At least until I have to start the assignment for NET11, but that is not for days (or day at least!)
I feel happy......
Yes, and so on that note, I think I'll go to bed before midnight. Hows that, hey. Before midnight. And this weekend, we're going for a drive, and I might even get to watch a movie, hey. So what do you think of that.
Mmmm, yes, off I go to bed, goody goody goody.
Toodles.
Wednesday, August 25, 2004
A good day
Well, today, on the whole, generally speaking, as a rule of thumb, as the crow flies, whence coming from whence it came, thenceforth and thusly, tumpty-tumpty-tumpty-tum, has been, as such and suchforth, quite an acceptable day. The assignment for LCI21 is done, and by ingo it feels good to have got it done. This leaves only three: one each for HST220, NET11 and NET12. The one for HST220 is only supposed to take 90 minutes (although I need to do some reading before I attempt it), and the other two are not excessively long essays. So things are looking good!
I can never do these things as fast as I hope. Despite this, LIC21 is done, and there is a feeling of satisfaction in that it didn't drag on forever. Maybe it will be marked badly. Maybe it is a load of pointless drivel. Maybe it will be my first assignment to be marked in the negatives. I don't care; I sat down and I got it done.
So now I am free to get on with it.
Actually, I am looking forward to doing the reading for HST220; it should be interesting. Likewise, NET11's essay doesn't look too bad! NET12 will probably be a little trickier in some ways. It is more ethereal, and my mind doesn't work in ethereal ways. Non concrete things, such as poetry, just don't make sense; I just don't get them! (This doesn't count for Pam Ayers, Roald Dahl or Dr. Thuess). This is very much an Asperger's thing. But is it an indictment on my writing?
You see, when I was studying LCS16 (which had a lot of work on poetry) I really struggled - i.e., walking up and down the hallway spasmodically and saying loudly in a frustrated tone, "This is stupid!". In one of the readings it said that metaphor was the key to poetry. Now seeing as me and poetry (apart from humourous rhyme, which is rather down on the metaphor-count) don't see eye to eye, and metaphor is supposed to also be a powerful part of all writing (especially to literary studies lecturors who can pull the most amazing metaphors out of classical literature), is my writing going to lack something?
Once again, the scary head of Asperger's raises itself and casts a shadow over my life. But oh well, I am how I am, and I would just consider myself metaphorically-challeneged if I had never heard of Asperger's, so what difference does it make? About as much difference as a pig and a medical laboritry (that was simile, not metaphor; me and simile are good mates).
Maybe story can be lost in metaphor (I think even Yeats may have made this point about his own poems later in his career; he had hidden the message so deeply in the metaphorical ehteralism that most people had no idea what he was going on about!). Well, it's times like this I need to read my own writing and do a JRR; start to know that it is good again. Sure, it has problems. Sure, it needs editing - the third pearl in the writers' jewels. But it is good.
I'll get by.
Golly, it's getting on, and I want to get a lot done tomorrow, so I better go. I need to get a couple of assignments done tomorrow, because on Friday I have the Writers' Festival in Melbourne. My eyes are starting to droop, and my bed is calling to me softly, "Come home, come home, come home...."
Goodnight.
I can never do these things as fast as I hope. Despite this, LIC21 is done, and there is a feeling of satisfaction in that it didn't drag on forever. Maybe it will be marked badly. Maybe it is a load of pointless drivel. Maybe it will be my first assignment to be marked in the negatives. I don't care; I sat down and I got it done.
So now I am free to get on with it.
Actually, I am looking forward to doing the reading for HST220; it should be interesting. Likewise, NET11's essay doesn't look too bad! NET12 will probably be a little trickier in some ways. It is more ethereal, and my mind doesn't work in ethereal ways. Non concrete things, such as poetry, just don't make sense; I just don't get them! (This doesn't count for Pam Ayers, Roald Dahl or Dr. Thuess). This is very much an Asperger's thing. But is it an indictment on my writing?
You see, when I was studying LCS16 (which had a lot of work on poetry) I really struggled - i.e., walking up and down the hallway spasmodically and saying loudly in a frustrated tone, "This is stupid!". In one of the readings it said that metaphor was the key to poetry. Now seeing as me and poetry (apart from humourous rhyme, which is rather down on the metaphor-count) don't see eye to eye, and metaphor is supposed to also be a powerful part of all writing (especially to literary studies lecturors who can pull the most amazing metaphors out of classical literature), is my writing going to lack something?
Once again, the scary head of Asperger's raises itself and casts a shadow over my life. But oh well, I am how I am, and I would just consider myself metaphorically-challeneged if I had never heard of Asperger's, so what difference does it make? About as much difference as a pig and a medical laboritry (that was simile, not metaphor; me and simile are good mates).
Maybe story can be lost in metaphor (I think even Yeats may have made this point about his own poems later in his career; he had hidden the message so deeply in the metaphorical ehteralism that most people had no idea what he was going on about!). Well, it's times like this I need to read my own writing and do a JRR; start to know that it is good again. Sure, it has problems. Sure, it needs editing - the third pearl in the writers' jewels. But it is good.
I'll get by.
Golly, it's getting on, and I want to get a lot done tomorrow, so I better go. I need to get a couple of assignments done tomorrow, because on Friday I have the Writers' Festival in Melbourne. My eyes are starting to droop, and my bed is calling to me softly, "Come home, come home, come home...."
Goodnight.
Tuesday, August 24, 2004
Up and out
Well, it's probably a good thing, in some ways, that I haven't blogged for the last few days. Can I just state for the record (and supposedly this blog is a record) that they haven't been the easiest few days. Late nights, eating unhealthy snacks to stay awake, feelings of self-doubt and hopelessness....cheery cheery stuff.
I guess it comes down to the fact that I felt I had too much to do, so much more than I could actually achieve, and that I was - essentially - incapable of achieving it. Or to put it another way, I felt I was in a greasy pit, sinking, drowning, with no way out.
But then something happened!
I slept!
And now I feel better. The assignment for HST220 is done, and I feel so much better. Now I'm getting into an assignment for LCI21, but I feel like it is not beyond me. I feel like if things go pear shaped, I'll still be OK. I feel like I am relaxing a bit as well - sometimes having to force myself - which is also good. For example, Melia had a pet day at kinder yesterday. M is not so good with the cats, so if Melia were to be able to take one it was up to me to take her. My first reaction was, "I'm sorry, but I don't have the time". But I didn't. It wouldn't really take that much time, and couldn't I afford some time to make my daughter happy? So I took her and Milo. She was rapt, and Milo went well, so it was all good. And I felt better for it as well.
And then I got into the assignment and it just flowed.
I have to admit it was an interesting assignment. I was looking at the brutality of the French government during the Algerian conflict between 1956 and 1962. It sounds like it was pretty bad (although lets not forget the attrocities committed by the FLN!), and really brought home how dehumanising war is. How can we expect people confronted with attrocities to keep a clear and level head? Surely it is the role of the government to control the army? Anyway, the French government didn't; it just let its army go, and it went, and systematic torture and abuses of human rights were the results. (Read this article by Adam Shatz if you want to know more.)
What is the scary part? In the press recently (such as this article by John Barry, Michael Hirsh and Kichael Isikoff) we have had what I would call attrocities committed by a present-day army in a current area of conflict. And what is the ultimate reason? The government responsible has let the army go in response to 9/11.
It is the responsibility of government to control its army. Government has to set acceptable rules of behaviour, outline and define unacceptable behaviour, and remove people who cross the line. If they don't, if they remove the line, attrocities follow. So keep an eye on your governments, readers. They may not want these kind of things to happen, but they have to ensure that they don't.
Anyway, pleasant stuff. Interesting though.
Anyway, I'm up and out of the pit now and still have plenty to do, so I better keep at it.
I guess it comes down to the fact that I felt I had too much to do, so much more than I could actually achieve, and that I was - essentially - incapable of achieving it. Or to put it another way, I felt I was in a greasy pit, sinking, drowning, with no way out.
But then something happened!
I slept!
And now I feel better. The assignment for HST220 is done, and I feel so much better. Now I'm getting into an assignment for LCI21, but I feel like it is not beyond me. I feel like if things go pear shaped, I'll still be OK. I feel like I am relaxing a bit as well - sometimes having to force myself - which is also good. For example, Melia had a pet day at kinder yesterday. M is not so good with the cats, so if Melia were to be able to take one it was up to me to take her. My first reaction was, "I'm sorry, but I don't have the time". But I didn't. It wouldn't really take that much time, and couldn't I afford some time to make my daughter happy? So I took her and Milo. She was rapt, and Milo went well, so it was all good. And I felt better for it as well.
And then I got into the assignment and it just flowed.
I have to admit it was an interesting assignment. I was looking at the brutality of the French government during the Algerian conflict between 1956 and 1962. It sounds like it was pretty bad (although lets not forget the attrocities committed by the FLN!), and really brought home how dehumanising war is. How can we expect people confronted with attrocities to keep a clear and level head? Surely it is the role of the government to control the army? Anyway, the French government didn't; it just let its army go, and it went, and systematic torture and abuses of human rights were the results. (Read this article by Adam Shatz if you want to know more.)
What is the scary part? In the press recently (such as this article by John Barry, Michael Hirsh and Kichael Isikoff) we have had what I would call attrocities committed by a present-day army in a current area of conflict. And what is the ultimate reason? The government responsible has let the army go in response to 9/11.
It is the responsibility of government to control its army. Government has to set acceptable rules of behaviour, outline and define unacceptable behaviour, and remove people who cross the line. If they don't, if they remove the line, attrocities follow. So keep an eye on your governments, readers. They may not want these kind of things to happen, but they have to ensure that they don't.
Anyway, pleasant stuff. Interesting though.
Anyway, I'm up and out of the pit now and still have plenty to do, so I better keep at it.
Wednesday, August 18, 2004
The treadmill
There are times where I feel that I am stumping forward, ever onward, ever upward, but never really getting anywhere. The fact of the matter is that in the next ten days I have two assignments due for HST220, one for LCI21, three for NET11, and another for NET12. But I do feel like I am ticking them off, one by one? No. I feel I am fighting with them, ever struggling but not really moving forward at all. True, one of the assignments for NET11 is practically done and another is well on its way, but I still feel like they are presenting me with too much struggle.
Oh, well, you've got to do what you've got to do, I suppose.
Soon, they will all be done - I have no choice about that - and it will be the start of a new study period; new subjects, new assignments, much more time. And this time I really do believe that things will be different. M really is a lot better than she has been for I don't know how long - the only reason I have been able to get anything done! And as she improves, I am getting the space to look at myself and realise that I am quite a faulty person - I mean, more faulty than I feel comfortable with. The stress and pressure of her sickness, and my work mounting up while I cared for her, had pushed me into a corner of stress and dehumanisation that made me feel like an empty shell; something I don't want to be.
You see, I like to live, and more abundantly. I am someone who seeks to have fun even when I am not doing fun things. And nothing has been fun - not because they have changed, but because I had.
So now I need to hop off the treadmill. I may not get anywhere any faster, but I have to break the monotony, live a little, let loose and be the goose, and let everything be dancing the funky chicken once more.
Oh, well, you've got to do what you've got to do, I suppose.
Soon, they will all be done - I have no choice about that - and it will be the start of a new study period; new subjects, new assignments, much more time. And this time I really do believe that things will be different. M really is a lot better than she has been for I don't know how long - the only reason I have been able to get anything done! And as she improves, I am getting the space to look at myself and realise that I am quite a faulty person - I mean, more faulty than I feel comfortable with. The stress and pressure of her sickness, and my work mounting up while I cared for her, had pushed me into a corner of stress and dehumanisation that made me feel like an empty shell; something I don't want to be.
You see, I like to live, and more abundantly. I am someone who seeks to have fun even when I am not doing fun things. And nothing has been fun - not because they have changed, but because I had.
So now I need to hop off the treadmill. I may not get anywhere any faster, but I have to break the monotony, live a little, let loose and be the goose, and let everything be dancing the funky chicken once more.
Tuesday, August 17, 2004
Oh dear...
You see, I had just kind of rationalised in my head the relationship between my work, my day, my blog and my journal, and then on the same day I went and messed it up. Although, I have to admit, I did it with good music playing! (You have to look for the positive in every situation, you see.)
You see, and for all of my dedicated readers (oh look, there goes the Queen....nope, she was knocked over by a flying pig), I have to make an admission that may make you gasp, choke and then spit your drink out in shocked betrayal. You see, I also have a journal, in that it is a small book with nonline paper in which I scratch away with a pen. "Why?" you say, "Why do you have this other journal? I though you were telling us about your life, such as it is." Well, let me try and achieve your understanding, my dear reader.
It goes like this; I had my paper journal first, and I found it helpful and useful. In it I capture more private things, and also thoughts, inspirations, and scratchings about my writing and learning. I was told at the biginning of FIC11 last year that:
So why the blog?
Well, as I said a few days ago, I wanted to capture my journey from here to there, V written and published, study done and passed, and myself perhaps stronger and better as a father and husband. I want this to - perhaps - capture my more personal journey, less of events and specifics (like which assignment I am working on or which child got into trouble at school), but more the spirit of my journey - my motivation, my feelings about myself, my hopes, my good and my less than good times. My journal is more prosaic, and at times more private. This blog is perhaps more personal.
Well, something like that.
So, I do my journal at the start of the day - what am I working on, what are my goals for the day, what happened yesterday - and I do my blog at the end of the day - whether I met my goals for the day, how I felt about the day, how I feel about my progress. And when I had sorted this out in my head, I then didn't do it. Typical. I collapsed at my desk last night. I just haven't been getting enough sleep. Look at these bed times - 2.00am, 1.00am, 2.00am, 3.00am, 6.30am, camping - i.e., poor sleep -, 3.00am, 2.00am. So I collapsed. I tried to tell M that I couldn't do anything, but I couldn't even get down the steps to the loungeroom. Apparently she found me lying on the top of the bed sideways fully dressed, and had to bully me to get into bed. I was a wreck. So, I didn't get this blog done (or the assignment for NET11).
Oh well.
But at least I had good music playing, so all is not lost.
Anyway, I had better get on with everything for today, including finisheing everything and getting my end of day post done for this blog.
You see, and for all of my dedicated readers (oh look, there goes the Queen....nope, she was knocked over by a flying pig), I have to make an admission that may make you gasp, choke and then spit your drink out in shocked betrayal. You see, I also have a journal, in that it is a small book with nonline paper in which I scratch away with a pen. "Why?" you say, "Why do you have this other journal? I though you were telling us about your life, such as it is." Well, let me try and achieve your understanding, my dear reader.
It goes like this; I had my paper journal first, and I found it helpful and useful. In it I capture more private things, and also thoughts, inspirations, and scratchings about my writing and learning. I was told at the biginning of FIC11 last year that:
- most (or many, or some, or maybe just one or two) successful writers from history kept writer's journals;
- many (or at least a few) modern published and successful (or at least more successful thus far than I) writers keep writer's journals; and
- when I am mega famous (?!?!?) I can donate it to a charity auction, and its sale price can be taken off my taxable income; plus
- when I am dead and well beyond mega famous, but have reached legendary status (?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?), my children can sell them for millions.
So why the blog?
Well, as I said a few days ago, I wanted to capture my journey from here to there, V written and published, study done and passed, and myself perhaps stronger and better as a father and husband. I want this to - perhaps - capture my more personal journey, less of events and specifics (like which assignment I am working on or which child got into trouble at school), but more the spirit of my journey - my motivation, my feelings about myself, my hopes, my good and my less than good times. My journal is more prosaic, and at times more private. This blog is perhaps more personal.
Well, something like that.
So, I do my journal at the start of the day - what am I working on, what are my goals for the day, what happened yesterday - and I do my blog at the end of the day - whether I met my goals for the day, how I felt about the day, how I feel about my progress. And when I had sorted this out in my head, I then didn't do it. Typical. I collapsed at my desk last night. I just haven't been getting enough sleep. Look at these bed times - 2.00am, 1.00am, 2.00am, 3.00am, 6.30am, camping - i.e., poor sleep -, 3.00am, 2.00am. So I collapsed. I tried to tell M that I couldn't do anything, but I couldn't even get down the steps to the loungeroom. Apparently she found me lying on the top of the bed sideways fully dressed, and had to bully me to get into bed. I was a wreck. So, I didn't get this blog done (or the assignment for NET11).
Oh well.
But at least I had good music playing, so all is not lost.
Anyway, I had better get on with everything for today, including finisheing everything and getting my end of day post done for this blog.
Saturday, August 14, 2004
I just caught up
"Beginnings - a journal". I looked at that name and realised, 'Hey, it bears an ethereal and poetic resemblance to "Beginnings - a journey". Then I wondered if I could pretend that I had meant that all along in some fantastically poetry-in-motion look-at-the-art-in-that way. Then I realised that I probably wouldn't be able to con anyone, and besides, I had just admitted it to everyone, so it was proabably pretty pointless trying. So I didn't.
Sometimes I have these thoughts, and I wonder, 'Is this abnormal?' You see, one of my sons, Alex, is going through the process of formal diagnosis of Asperger's Syndrome (if you don't undertand what Asperger's is, have a look at the A4 site), and as we go through all the information and rigmorall, I find that I am probably an undiagnosed case of Asperger's. Looking at Alex from the outside, I see myself and it makes much of my childhood make sense. At times I find it not a little scary.
My childhood, now there is a murky place that I delve into very carefully. On campus yesterday, in CHI13, I had to write about the worst time in my life, and I have to admit, it sounded pretty grim. But it is not good for myself to sink into that self-centred pit of despair and general moaning about. I am only too aware of how many other people had childhoods in a whole different league of unpleasantness than mine. I also am coming to beleive that unpleasant childhoods are very much the norm.
Anyway, what a laugh CHI13 was, ha ha ha. Nevertheless, yesterday was a good day, although a tiring one (not because of excessive physical activity, but merely because I only got one hours sleep the night before). I caught up on a lot of on campus stuff, and even got some editing (and I am not talking about a paragraph, but MORE) done on V. Then I got home and got a cake, and children loving me for my cake, and a CD ('The Joshua Tree' by U2, by gum). Then, I went camping with Josh.
For those of you who are reading this (I have this delusion that people will actually read this), it is winter here. Maybe you are sitting in the Northern Hemisphere, watching the Olympics and thinking, "By gum, I'd like to go camping - look at that sunshine!". Well, here it is raining and cold enough for me to say that it's cold. But we went camping anyway! And it was fun, and I slept badly, and that's what it's all about, and we ate sausages and hamburgers, and they were disgusting, and that's what it's all about, and we got muddy and smokey, and that's what it's all about.
Now I have to catch up with some assignments for NET11 now that I've caught up, but first I had to catch up, and now I have.
Sometimes I have these thoughts, and I wonder, 'Is this abnormal?' You see, one of my sons, Alex, is going through the process of formal diagnosis of Asperger's Syndrome (if you don't undertand what Asperger's is, have a look at the A4 site), and as we go through all the information and rigmorall, I find that I am probably an undiagnosed case of Asperger's. Looking at Alex from the outside, I see myself and it makes much of my childhood make sense. At times I find it not a little scary.
My childhood, now there is a murky place that I delve into very carefully. On campus yesterday, in CHI13, I had to write about the worst time in my life, and I have to admit, it sounded pretty grim. But it is not good for myself to sink into that self-centred pit of despair and general moaning about. I am only too aware of how many other people had childhoods in a whole different league of unpleasantness than mine. I also am coming to beleive that unpleasant childhoods are very much the norm.
Anyway, what a laugh CHI13 was, ha ha ha. Nevertheless, yesterday was a good day, although a tiring one (not because of excessive physical activity, but merely because I only got one hours sleep the night before). I caught up on a lot of on campus stuff, and even got some editing (and I am not talking about a paragraph, but MORE) done on V. Then I got home and got a cake, and children loving me for my cake, and a CD ('The Joshua Tree' by U2, by gum). Then, I went camping with Josh.
For those of you who are reading this (I have this delusion that people will actually read this), it is winter here. Maybe you are sitting in the Northern Hemisphere, watching the Olympics and thinking, "By gum, I'd like to go camping - look at that sunshine!". Well, here it is raining and cold enough for me to say that it's cold. But we went camping anyway! And it was fun, and I slept badly, and that's what it's all about, and we ate sausages and hamburgers, and they were disgusting, and that's what it's all about, and we got muddy and smokey, and that's what it's all about.
Now I have to catch up with some assignments for NET11 now that I've caught up, but first I had to catch up, and now I have.
Thursday, August 12, 2004
...and so it started.
The blog, that inimical wonder of the new Internet life that has swept us all up, now has a little part of myself encapsulated for posterity - should it interest anyone. And so it begins.
Today has been a good day, in that I have got somewhere and done something, and been someone. My kids were fun tonight. Melia - as always - was cute, as was Hannah although she was tired. Well, to be totally honest, most of them were tired, but life is sometimes like that.
Look at me.
The two littlest climbed into our bed last night, a sure-fire way to ensure that I slept all bent up like a paperclip (Do paperclips sleep well? Will we ever know?). So all aching and groaning and muttering I creaked my way into the day.
And what a day. I was on campus today for my Diploma of Arts in Professional Writing and Editing. M was at a seminar-like thing about food and children (and how additives can contribute to asthma and autism and ADHD, and probably a good many other things starting with "A"). Melia and Hannah were at Family Day Care. Josh, Ali, Amber, Alex and Sam were all at school. Getting everyone out the door this morning was as frantic as.......well it was frantic.
I worked on V at school during NOV11, but didn't get far. Sometimes on campus is a great place to get lots done, and other times it isn't. Today it wasn't. After lunch - which I sat typing through - we had EDT12, but as much as I got all of the work done, I don't feel like I got anything of worth done, other than collating a list of all the work I need to do to catch up from both M's and my illnesses. It never ends.
So now I sit here, at home, the kids in bed, M reading about allergies, my computer in front of me with a screen full of work for me to do for NET11. Except, now it is taken up with a screen full of blog. My blog, such as it is. A beginning, a start.
"What are you going to put in this blog?" I ask myself (Not a particularly original question, I admit).
I will try to capture the process.
"What process?!" I ask, exasperated at my own vaguery.
The process, you know, my journey, from here to there......
You will see already that I am not the world's best conversationalist, and there is - unfortunately - no way that this blog can capture my animated gesticulations.
But I will try my best to outline my journey. I am, now, sitting here, a student, and a writer. But am I? Well I am a student, but that in itself indicates a journey, from here to the end of my studies, far off in some distant reality where there will no longer be any assignments due on Friday. I am a writer, in that I write, but I am not a writer in that people walk into the book store and say, "Behold, there lieth that book by that there writer who shall henceforth be known as Ewan D. Harris, and lo, it is published." I am a father, but only as far as I have learned and grown, and there is much more to learn and develop, both for my sake and for the sake of my children. And I am a husband, but I am in an ever-changing relationship with a fragile and special woman.
These journeys will never end, but I am looking towards a rather arbitrary point where I take a step into another phase. I will have ceased being a tertiary student and become a student of life. I will have ceased being a writer unknown and be published. I will have grown as a man, as a father, as a husband, as a person.
I have a long way to go. But I can see that there is a journey to take. Life is not stagnant. Every day is a start, and today is no different. And so my blog has a name.....
Beginnings - a journal.
Today has been a good day, in that I have got somewhere and done something, and been someone. My kids were fun tonight. Melia - as always - was cute, as was Hannah although she was tired. Well, to be totally honest, most of them were tired, but life is sometimes like that.
Look at me.
The two littlest climbed into our bed last night, a sure-fire way to ensure that I slept all bent up like a paperclip (Do paperclips sleep well? Will we ever know?). So all aching and groaning and muttering I creaked my way into the day.
And what a day. I was on campus today for my Diploma of Arts in Professional Writing and Editing. M was at a seminar-like thing about food and children (and how additives can contribute to asthma and autism and ADHD, and probably a good many other things starting with "A"). Melia and Hannah were at Family Day Care. Josh, Ali, Amber, Alex and Sam were all at school. Getting everyone out the door this morning was as frantic as.......well it was frantic.
I worked on V at school during NOV11, but didn't get far. Sometimes on campus is a great place to get lots done, and other times it isn't. Today it wasn't. After lunch - which I sat typing through - we had EDT12, but as much as I got all of the work done, I don't feel like I got anything of worth done, other than collating a list of all the work I need to do to catch up from both M's and my illnesses. It never ends.
So now I sit here, at home, the kids in bed, M reading about allergies, my computer in front of me with a screen full of work for me to do for NET11. Except, now it is taken up with a screen full of blog. My blog, such as it is. A beginning, a start.
"What are you going to put in this blog?" I ask myself (Not a particularly original question, I admit).
I will try to capture the process.
"What process?!" I ask, exasperated at my own vaguery.
The process, you know, my journey, from here to there......
You will see already that I am not the world's best conversationalist, and there is - unfortunately - no way that this blog can capture my animated gesticulations.
But I will try my best to outline my journey. I am, now, sitting here, a student, and a writer. But am I? Well I am a student, but that in itself indicates a journey, from here to the end of my studies, far off in some distant reality where there will no longer be any assignments due on Friday. I am a writer, in that I write, but I am not a writer in that people walk into the book store and say, "Behold, there lieth that book by that there writer who shall henceforth be known as Ewan D. Harris, and lo, it is published." I am a father, but only as far as I have learned and grown, and there is much more to learn and develop, both for my sake and for the sake of my children. And I am a husband, but I am in an ever-changing relationship with a fragile and special woman.
These journeys will never end, but I am looking towards a rather arbitrary point where I take a step into another phase. I will have ceased being a tertiary student and become a student of life. I will have ceased being a writer unknown and be published. I will have grown as a man, as a father, as a husband, as a person.
I have a long way to go. But I can see that there is a journey to take. Life is not stagnant. Every day is a start, and today is no different. And so my blog has a name.....
Beginnings - a journal.
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