Thank You ( again)

I have deleted that last post, as I don't feel comfortable having something so personal permanently up.

I also want to give every one who commented a big group hug, for your heart touching concern, words of wisdom (and humour), and actually for just being there...it means more to me than you all can know.

Mush Brain

AAARRRGGGHHHH!!!!

I don't feel like doing anything,
my brain has turned to mush.

I have so much to do,
and I'm wading though
the slush and crush
of this Sundays hush.

Come on Brain,
do your thing,
Finnish that thesis,
give those people a ring.

Write that proposal,
don't make it antipodal
And remember to call Jenny
At The Weapons Disposal.

Stop talking to the cat
It doesn't have
a clue where your at.
Finnish building that site
or you ll be up all night.

Read through that script,
though its probably shit.
Who knows?Maybe one day
it will be a hit.

Organise that meeting
with Colonel Sweeting,
for some time next week
or well be up the creek.

Do the dishes, and the laundry too
and clean up the rest
of the messy cat poo.
Brush cut the lawn, don't you dare yawn,
there is so much to do
I'm counting on you.

"OH bugger off "
says my brain.
Your giving me a pain,
it will be done when its done,
Think I'll go and laze in the sun

Another one Bites The Dust

Well there goes the American film we were contracted to work on for the next 9 months.

http://news.ninemsn.com.au/article.aspx?id=114495

This is a rant from me, on the deplorable state of the Aussie film industry...especially NSW.

In the last 4 years, we have watched so many of our friends and business associates go bankrupt, loose absolutely everything, and some of them commit suicide.

We are one of only 2 studios left in NSW, and believe me, its been a bloody struggle to hold onto.
And why is this?

1-The Australian Government doesn't want to give tax credits to overseas films, thereby guaranteeing that no big films are made here, and with the Aussie dollar almost the same as America, what is the incentive?The government only wants to give credits to Australian films, but most Aussie films are low budget, and cannot sustain a large crew. And it has been shown that they are pretty much uninteresting to the wider market, how many Rabbit Proof fence's, Danny Deckchairs, Prissilla , etc can you watch?

2-You have rich media moguls (not mentioning names) who keep the biggest film studios in Australia booked up and constantly empty, so their equally spoilt favourite directors can decide at their leisure if they want to make a film there or not, with the result that no big films can be made, they usually go overseas. The rent of these studios to the rich moguls is an unbelievably low amount, so they are under no pressure to make it profitable, its a tax write off to them.

3-When something does finally get made, you have the piranhas that are in the council circling around, all wanting a slice of the pie, and charging exorbitant location fees. The last big TVC we did, we rented the premises privately of a company, worked out the price, and away we went.

A council officer stepped in, and tried to blackmail the production company into giving them $10,000 a day. Now as this was private land, it was pretty obvious who's pockets this would be lining. Luckily the producer called the council big Whigs in and called them on it, and they had to drop it, but this sort of thing happens all the time.

The upshot of this shortsightedness, is an industry that was once thriving is dead, not dying, actually dead.
It was an industry that once employed thousands of people, and trained young people in the actual (not film school) way of film making.
Now any talented people who want to survive have to go overseas. ..which puts a huge strain on families, relationships, and guarantees that our brightest and most talented are not working here, and again flows what could be money into Australia, out of it.

So that's my rant.

Boys Will be Boys

I get woken up by my Mobile phone ringing at 4 AM this morning.
Now most people would be somewhat worried getting a phone call at that time of the morning, I am used to it as it is often our security company ringing to tell me our workshop alarm has gone off, (to which I respond, I'll fix it in the morning) or my ex, drunk, saying "Wotcha doin? Baby"(to which I respond, sleeping).

However this morning it was the call every mother dreads, "Hi , Ms Enigma, this is Mikey, there has been an accident ,Little Man is in the hospital".

I have a tendency to become super calm in the middle of a situation like this, so I just said "What happened? And how bad is it?"

The upshot is that he got plastered with his friends, tripped over going into the apartment building, and smashed through the plate glass door, cracking his head open on the concrete.

So Mikey puts LM on ,
"Mum" he says, "I've got a really bad headache." "You're a bloody idiot" , I say, in true loving mother fashion.
"I'll come to the hospital " I continue, "No, No ", he says, "They are stapling my head up, and I,ll be home in a minute."

So I get a nurse on the phone, see what the damage is, make myself a cup of tea and calmly wait for the immanent arrival of LM.

LM arrives about an hour later, totally drunk, covered in blood, with 5 staples in his head.
Now LM doesn't get drunk like this very often, which is a good thing, as I mentioned in another post , he is over 6 foot, very muscly, and when hes drunk he is a bit difficult to control.

So he comes in yelling at the top of his lungs, "Ive got metal in my head" over and over.
I,m trying to get him settled on the lounge, check the damage, mop up the blood, and give him some tablets, hes flailing around, yelling about the metal in his head.

I end up saying" Oh for Gods sake, shut up and lie down, and let me fix you up"

He subsides onto the lounge, I clean up the blood, and as I'm bending over him, I get the strangest feeling, my blood starts pounding in my ears, I think I'm going to throw up, and everything starts going dim ,"Oh God, I'm going to faint",I say.

LM starts yelling again, "Mum its not that bad, I'm O.K, don't be upset"

I rush to the bathroom, throw up, and sit with my head between my legs until its passes.
A shock delayed reaction I think.

So I come back, sit on the lounge and cradle my Little Mans head in my lap, and soothe him to sleep.

I don't talk about my son much, but he is the love of my life.
I raised him on my own from when he was 6 months old, and for a long time there was only him and I.
He was my only reason for living for a long time, and if something happened to him, I really don't know if I would survive it.

He is not just my son, but one of the finest human beings I have ever known, and I am blessed to have him in my life, as my family and friend.

The Voice of The Voiceless

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

I am the voice of the voiceless;
Through me the dumb shall speak;
Till the deaf world's ear be made to hear
The cry of the wordless weak.
From street, from cage, and from kennel,
From jungle and stall, the wail
Of my tortured kin proclaims the sin
Of the mighty against the frail.

I am a ray from the centre;
And I will feed God's spark,
Till a great light glows in the night and shows
The dark deeds done in the dark.
And full on the thoughtless sleeper
Shall flash its glaring flame,
Till he wakens to see what crimes may be
Cloaked under an honoured name.

The same Force formed the sparrow
That fashioned man, the king;
The God of the Whole gave a spark of soul
To furred and to feathered thing.
And I am my brother's keeper,
And I will fight his fight,
And speak the word for beast and bird,
Till the world shall set things right.

Let no voice cavil at Science -
The strong torch-bearer of God;
For brave are his deeds, though dying creeds,
Must fall where his feet have trod.
But he who would trample kindness
And mercy into the dust -
He has missed the trail, and his quest will fail:
He is not the guide to trust.

For love is the true religion,
And love is the law sublime;
And all that is wrought, where love is not,
Will die at the touch of time.
And Science, the great revealer,
Must flame his torch at the Source;
And keep it bright with that holy light,
Or his feet shall fail on the course.

Oh, never a brute in the forest,
And never a snake in the fen,
Or ravening bird, starvation stirred,
Has hunted its prey like men.
For hunger, and fear, and passion
Alone drive beasts to slay,
But wonderful man, the crown of the plan,
Tortures, and kills, for play.

He goes well fed from his table;
He kisses his child and wife;
Then he haunts a wood, till he orphans a brood,
Or robs a deer of its life.
He aims at a speck in the azure;
Winged love, that has flown at a call;
It reels down to die, and he lets it lie;
His pleasure was seeing it fall.

And one there was, weary of laurels,
Of burdens and troubles of State;
So the jungle he sought, with the beautiful thought
Of shooting a she lion's mate.
And one came down from the pulpit,
In the pride of a duty done,
And his cloth sufficed, as his emblem of Christ,
While murder smoked out of his gun.

One strays from the haunts of fashion
With an indolent, unused brain;
But his sluggish heart feels a sudden start
In the purpose of giving pain.
And the fluttering flock of pigeons,
As they rise on eager wings,
From prison to death, bring a catch in his breath:
OH, THE RAPTURE OF KILLING THINGS!

Now, this is the race as we find it,
Where love, in the creed, spells hate;
And where bird and beast meet a foe in the priest
And in rulers of fashion and State.
But up to the Kingdom of Thinkers
Has risen the cry of our kin;
And the weapons of thought are burnished and brought
To clash with the bludgeons of sin.

Far Christ, of a million churches,
Come near to the earth again;
Be more than a Name; be a living Flame;
'Make Good' in the hearts of men.
Shine full on the path of Science,
And show it the heights above,
Where vast truths lie for the searching eye
That shall follow the torch of love.

Thank you

To all you super lovely people who left messages whilst I was recovering from my injury, a big thank you.
To the ones who didnt ,I don't care ,So there.* poking my tongue out*

A Break

Hi Folks,
I will be taking a break, as a few weeks ago I fractured my right elbow, and busted the bursor. Anyhow, it aint getting better, and it is bloody painful to use the mouse, or pretty much anything.
So I dont think I will be posting, or commenting much...but I will still be lurking.

In The Night

Sometimes at night, when I sit and write,
I hear the strangest things-
As my brain grows hot with burning thought,
That struggles for form and wings,
I can hear the beat of my swift blood's feet,
As it speeds with a rush and a whir,
From heart to brain and back again,
Like a race-horse under the spur.

With my soul's fine ear I listen and hear
The tender silence speak,
As it leans on the breast of Night to rest,
And presses his dusky cheek.
And the darkness turns in its sleep, and yearns
For something that is kin;
And I hear the hiss of a scorching kiss,
As it folds and fondles Sin

And in its hurrying race through leagues of space,
I can hear the Earth catch breath,
As it heaves and moans, and shudders and groans,
And longs for the rest of Death.
And high and far from a distant star,
Whose name is unknown to me,
I hear a voice that says "Rejoice,
For I keep watch o'er thee!"

Oh, sweet and strange are the sounds that range
Through the chambers of the night;
And the watcher who waits by the dim, dark gates,
May hear if he listens aright.

Ella Wheeler Willcox (1850-1919)

Fleeing Away

MY thoughts soar not as they ought to soar,
Higher and higher on soul-lent wings;
But ever and often and more and more
They are dragged down earthward by little things,
By little troubles and little needs,
As a lark might be tangled among the weeds.

My purpose is not what it ought to be,
Steady and fixed, like a star on high,
But more like a fisherman's light at sea;
Hither and thither it seems to fly--
Sometimes feeble, and sometimes bright,
Then suddenly lost in the gloom of night.

My life is far from my dream of life--
Calmly contented, serenely glad;
But, vexed and worried by daily strife,
It is always troubled and ofttimes sad--
And the heights I had thought I should reach one day
Grow dimmer and dimmer, and farther away.

My heart never finds the longed-for rest;
Its worldly striving, its greed for gold,
Chilled and frightened the calm-eyed guest
Who sometimes sought me in days of old;
And ever fleeing away from me
Is the higher self that I long to be.

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

English to be the official language of Europe

The European Commission has just announced an agreement whereby English will be the official language of the European Union rather than German which, was the other possibility.

As part of the negotiations, the British Government conceded that English spelling had some room for improvement and has accepted a 5-year phase-in plan that would become known as "Euro-English".

In the first year, "s" will replace the soft "c". Sertainly, this will make the sivil servants jump with joy.

The hard "c" will be dropped in favour of "k". This should klear up konfusion, and keyboards kan have one less letter.

There will be growing publik enthusiasm in the sekond year when the troublesome "ph" will be replaced with "f". This will make words like fotograf 20% shorter.

In the 3rd year, publik akseptanse of the new spelling kan be expekted to reach the stage where more komplikated changes are possible.

Governments will enkourage the removal of double letters which have always ben a deterent to akurate speling.

Also, al wil agre that the horibl mes of the silent "e" in the languag is disgrasful and it should go away.

By the 4th yer people wil be reseptiv to steps such as replasing "th" with "z" and "w" with "v".

During ze fifz yer, ze unesesary "o" kan be dropd from vords kontaining "ou" and after ziz fifz yer, ve vil hav a reil sensibl riten styl.

Zer vil be no mor trubl or difikultis and evrivun vil find it ezi tu understand ech oza. Ze drem of a united urop vil finali kum tru.

Und efter ze fifz yer, ve vil al be speking ze German like zey vunted in ze forst plas.

PS. I didnt write this,I'm not that witty, it was emailed to me.

My Weekend, (this is just really a cheap ego ploy).

So what did I do this weekend?
So nice of you to ask.

On Saturday morning I went to our workshop and cleaned up.


The Guys are messy and leave all sorts of stuff lying around.


Then I helped my partner build beehives for our property on the North coast.


Our Property.


Then I helped my man change the stock on a couple of guns from wood to synthetic (he calls me "Daddies little helper")


Then we finished the floating lake house for our swamp chickens to live in.


Our swamp chooks.


Then it was time to go back to our cliff top city rented digs, watch the boats roll in , and get spruced up as I had a night out with the girls planned.



What to wear tonight? hhhmmm. Maybe this LBD (with a thigh holster, of course)



But does it make my bum look big?


And is it too trashy?


I know , I'll wear my new shoes to make it more classy.


The Night Out
Well we ended up here I got trollied and got chatted up and (flirted ,rockstar deleted) with someone.
So I thought it was a good idea to go home.

Sunday
Felt a little bit fragile after Saturday, was due to see Mum, but couldn't quite face it.

The Cat Lady

This was painted by a Serbian artist, for me, commissioned by my Croatian ex.

I went to Croatia to meet his parents during the war, as you do, and to stop him being thrown into jail as a deserter.

While we were there, we went to amazing medieval coffee shop , on top of a cliff, that was built into an old 15th century fort. The shop had lots of beautiful paintings hanging there, and we sat down directly across from this one .

I said to him, "Oh I love that painting, its so much like me" (I had 8 cats) and he said "look at the plaque on it".

The plaque had written on it,"To Enigma , my life and my Love, Happy Birthday, from Dean."

It was one of the most romantic things anyone has ever done for me.

(Its 5 foot and weighs 25 kilos, and we lugged it across five countires, getting it home)

And Now for Something Completely Differant

This is one of my favourite songs.


The Words
Tool
Something has to change.
Un-deniable dilemma.
Boredom's not a burden
Anyone should bear.

Constant over stimu-lation numbs me
but I wouldn't want you
any other way.

It's not enough.
I need more.
Nothing seems to satisfy.
I don't want it.
I just need it.
To breathe, to feel, to know I'm alive.

Finger deep within the borderline.
Show me that you love me and that we belong together.
Relax, turn around and take my hand.

I can help you change
Tired moments into pleasure.
Say the word and we'll be
Well upon our way.

Blend and balance
Pain and comfort
Deep within you
Till you will not want me any other way.

It's not enough.
I need more.
Nothing seems to satisfy.
I don't want it.
I just need it.
To breathe, to feel, to know I'm alive.

Knuckle deep inside the borderline.
This may hurt a little but it's something you'll get used to.
Relax. Slip away.

Something kinda sad about
the way that things have come to be.
Desensitized to everything.
What became of subtlety?

How can it mean anything to me
If I really don't feel anything at all?

I'll keep digging till
I feel something.

Elbow deep inside the borderline.
Show me that you love me and that we belong together.
Shoulders deep within the borderline.
Relax. Turn around and take my hand.

Whinge, whinge, whinge

I'm restless, bored, frustrated. I want to have a grand adventure, see new things, meet different people. Go scuba diving, mountain climbing, salsa dancing. Feel passionatly about something...whinge, whinge, whinge.

You Will Forget Me

You will forget me. The years are so tender,
They bind up the wounds which we think are so deep,
This dream of our youth will fade out as the splendour
Fades from the skies when the sun sinks to sleep,
The cloud of forgetfulness, over and over
Will banish the last rosy colours away,
And the fingers of time will weave garlands to cover
The scar which you think is a life-mark today.

You will forget me. The one boon you covet
Now above all things will soon. seem no prize,
And the heart, which you hold not in keeping to prove it
True or untrue, will lose worth in your eyes.
The one drop to-day, that you deem only wanting
To fill your life-cup to the brim, soon will seem
But a valueless mite; and the ghost that is haunting
The aisles of your heart will pass out with the dream.

You will forget me, will thank me for saying
The words which you think are so pointed with pain.
Time loves a new lay, and the dirge he is playing
Will change for you soon to a livelier strain.
I shall pass from your life, I shall pass out forever,
And these hours we have spent will be sunk in the past.
Youth buries its dead, grief kills seldom or never
And forgetfulness covers all sorrows at last.

Ella Wheeler Wilcox
One of My favourite poets

Other Important Things.

My partner left his stinky socks in the lounge room, and my new cat (the rescued mum) went up and had a sniff of them.

He watched her for a while and then said to her,

"Breathe deeply , My Pretty.

Once you get a whiff of that rich alpha male spore, youll be mine forever."

A Perfect Storm

Reason and Passion

And the Priestess spoke again and said: 'Speak to us of Reason and Passion.'

And he answered saying: Your soul is oftentimes a battlefield, upon which your reason and your judgment wage war against passion and your appetite. Would that I could be the peacemaker in your soul, that I might turn the discord and the rivalry of your elements into oneness and melody. But how shall I, unless you yourselves be also the peacemakers, nay, the lovers of all your elements?

Your reason and your passion are the rudder and the sails of your seafaring soul. If either your sails or your rudder be broken, you can but toss and drift, or else be held at a standstill in mid-seas.

For reason, ruling alone, is a force confining; and passion, unattended, is a flame that burns to its own destruction. Therefore let your soul exalt your reason to the height of passion; that it may sing; And let it direct your passion with reason, that your passion may live through its own daily resurrection, and like the phoenix rise above its own ashes.

I would have you consider your judgment and your appetite even as you would two loved guests in your house. Surely you would not honour one guest above the other; for he who is more mindful of one loses the love and the faith of both.

Among the hills, when you sit in the cool shade of the white poplars, sharing the peace and serenity of distant fields and meadows - then let your heart say in silence, 'God rests in reason.'

And when the storm comes, and the mighty wind shakes the forest, and thunder and lightning proclaim the majesty of the sky, - then let your heart say in awe, 'God moves in passion.'

And since you are a breath In God's sphere, and a leaf in God's forest, you too should rest in reason and move in passion.

Kahlil Gibran

Good Morning

Its Been a While