Almost School Time

Oh god I really am a nerd. Its nearing the end of February, and its that time when Uni students start to get their stuff together. Books, folders, bags... readers! Oh gosh I love readers... And I'm so jealous. I know I said I'd have a year off but the more I think about it the more I want to do it all over again.

Crazy woman huh? Yeh.

I guess its just such a huge part of who I think I am, that I find it hard to let it go.

Ever since the first time I saw an intelligent young girl in a TV show, and identified her as confident and cool, in a way that I percieved I wanted to be, I decided that was who I would be. I have managed the school bit, the study bit, the loving books bit, but I've never been cool! Still, I love that perception of myself though. The studier.

And its developed into something more that than too; something more than what I want others to see me as. I have a desire to learn. I love the act of study. I love the way that things click and you have moment after moment of "ooooh! i get it!". I just do. And I know that most of it is entirely useless, because when I die, who cares what I know? Who cares what I've read? And who cares if I knew things in an entirely different way to anyone has ever known things before? But something feels right in a way that makes me smile... in the way you smile when you think about your closest relationships. (My little sister who is pregnant with her first child excitedly telling me that her baby has hiccups! My boyfriend spontaneously jumping on me in a giant affectionate hug. My friend coming to see me just because I sounded a bit sad in my Facebook status... See? Smiles!)

Anyways. I don't know if I'll enter anything formal this year or not, but I know that I could never give up learning.



Ok. Wierd post... but I had to blog. Its been too long! And that's what I was thinking.

x

My Country is burning

I like that title. "My country is burning".

It is black, and it is red and the waves of heat warp our vision so that we struggle to recognise landscapes as our own. They can't be ours. They are burnt, and black, red embers, orange licks of flame that light up the brown, ash filled skies.

I am so sick of summer, the Australian trademark. Burning its name onto the land. Marysville, a town I visited when I was 11 years old... it had beautiful snow, lovely old houses, nestled in trees and bushes. There was a car museum, and local shops where my sister and I bought book to colour in, and stickers to put in them. Marysville no longer exists. The land is there, but it is burnt, broken, charred and disappeared.

So many people have died in ways that you don't want to imagine too closely for the horror of it. Burnt alive. Or perhaps more mercifully, they passed out from smoke before they were killed in the flame.

Seperated families. Whole families. Lovers. Unrequited loves. Children.

I can't bear to think about it, but how could you bear not too?