An update then, is it you want?
Well - here it is Friday morning. The day I had set aside to catch up on oh, say, about six months worth of school work..
Not going to happen.
You see, I got back from Central Australia late on Wednesday night. I may well have spent those ten days with 27 teenagers but it does not dampen the effect that the area has upon me.
I first went up through S.A. and the NT two years ago - September 2004. It was a trip that I was very much looking forward to - it was a chance for renewal and change for me and a beacon in the distance to look to when times were hard. I had broken apart from my partner of some 4-5 years in April of 2004 and I really really needed to be free and away. (Teenagers aside, I have a strong imagination and therefore I could block them out when I needed to!)
Central Australia just got me. And I got it. I had always thought that I was a bush and sea kind of girl, I had never expected the way in which the trip was to assault my senses. I took in everything. I photographed away some 600 shots, I filled my ramshackle homemade sketch book from cover to cover and I came home enlivened and a little more aware.
You can understand that in preparing for this year's sojourn, I had been a little apprehensive - will it be as good? Will I still love it? Will I feel the same?
Yes. Yes. Yes. Even though it was different this time - for whatever reasons - it still got me.
And I still got it.
How can I possibly think about the petty wants of unconscious teens and their barely literate musings of 200 words on the form and function of a bmx bike when I have photos to sort and have developed, sketches to finish, websites detailing the requirements of working as a home tutor on a homestead and at the School of the Air to peruse, and staring - thinking and breathing and staring - to do?
Not a chance.
So I will fall further behind and I will fret and worry and freak out for another three weeks but I will be happy internally if only for a little while as I prevent the warmth of the sun, the colour of the land, the spirituality of the space and the noise of the nothing from leaving my heart and mind.

I couldn't be bothered writing, let alone actually thinking.

Pictures are nice..

Hmm. So yesterday was Father's Day and, well, no, I have no idea how I want to approach this.
I haven't spoken to my Father for about four years now.
Good or bad thing? Everyone I know has their views on this and I am open to all of them, as I am open to all views on most topics (I am a good old fashioned fence sitter).
The thing is though - that I wasn't really aware of the Hallmark qualities of the day until I mentioned to Megs that I had been reading a letter that I had written about four months back.
This letter was to my Father and I had written it in a spur of the moment as I was packing to move. I had been cleaning out boxes and moving this and that and had happened upon a note that he had sent me a couple of years ago. Nothing special - it just made me think. And feel.
So I wrote. I wrote and I wrote and it all kind of poured out of me. I was blunt. I was articulate. I was harsh. I was selfish. Three pages of very small text later and I felt I had captured it all. I had made sense of it. I had said all of the things I needed to say.
Funny then, that I had forgotten about it until yesterday.
So where does this leave me? God knows. I just thought I might mention it to the ether in the vain hope that it might start me along - in baby steps - down the path to sorting this all out and maybe, who knows, to fixing (?) it.