The Story of You -3

I apologize, today I  am a bit of a mess, things have happened that made me fall apart, and on top of everything I miss you.

So, I will try and go back to it.. 

The day we met you were just some guy.  You were some blond, muscular kind of guy, who annoyed the crap out of me, and I did not know why.
I had gone to this excursion with my favorite class because they were my favorite, and I loved them, and wanted to spend all my time with them, and I felt so sick that the only thing that made me happy was being around them.   
All I heard about you at the time was that you were really hot, but hot for me was not the same thing as  it was for a bunch of teenagers.  When I met you I though.. really.. he seems totally up himself... for me, hot was not the same thing they saw, for me, hot was a strong minded guy that cared about the work we did, a guy that played the same games that I played, that was crazy, and funny, and stupid all at the same time.  Certainly not you.

Dream Notes.2

Many years ago, almost half a lifetime ago, I started having a dream I could not explain. 

At first I could not recognize it, it was, I presumed like any other. 

I should say that I often remember my dreams.  And since I was little, if I wanted to continue with one after I was woken, I could return to it at will (usually).  As long as I could manage to fall asleep in exactly the same position I was when I opened my eyes, and only if I went back to the same place in the (story).  It took me quite a while to work this out, and much longer to master it.  It worked sometimes, but this was not it, I mean this was not a dream I wanted back.  Not that it was a terrible dream; it was just a moment, like a chapter in a book, that at that point in my life held little meaning.   

I was (or at least I presumed it was me, for it was seen through my eyes) in a shop; the details of the surroundings were blurry.  I was talking to a woman, middle age, I did not recognize.  She had light hair, but not blonde, kind of like my mum's sister, a coppery tone.  I never remembered her face, but I could recall the color of her hair.  

We were talking for a bit, and behind us a little girl played with some toys, or she was drawing; she was blurred out too, at that point.  Then the door opened and a young man walked in, he was tall, or so it seemed; he had dark brown hair, like me. I am constantly reminded about how short I am, so everyone seems tall in comparison.  He was dismal, not angry, but when he walked in and the woman turned to him and said something I could not hear, he became angry.  

For whatever reason, I never had sound in these dreams, like silent movies without the ambiance music.  And they were long and detailed, unlike the usual way I remember my dreams; well, not long like a story, but more than the regular snapshots.  

They both argued for a while, and as they did I walked away to play with the little girl.  She was probably around 4 or 5; we sat on the floor and passed a tennis ball back and forth.  It was such an innocent moment, a fun but innocent moment, the kind you can only have at that age playing with something small and your imagination. 

The argument was loud, but it only came apparent from the expression in their faces.  There was a sense of disappointment and misunderstanding in the air, the kind I recognize now when I argue with my teenage daughters.  There was no hate in the screaming, but there was screaming none the less. 

So I played with the little girl.  I guess it seemed then, that I was not there as a customer, but I did not recognize the woman or the young man or the little girl or the shop.  I had no idea where I was or why I was there, but the situation was vivid.  

Amidst the argument something caught my attention and I looked away for a moment; the ball that the little girl was throwing in my direction rolling past me without notice.  Then the little girl running out the door of the shop, that until that time I had not been aware had been left wide open.  It was a moment, the whole dream until that point, had been a moment.  It was the details that had made it long, not the content.  The little girl run out the door following a stupid yellow ball that rolled slowly and diligently onto the pavement, onto a road that could not yet be seen.  That was never to be seen. Just the sound of a car breaking, the only noise in the whole silent film that was this dream.  The only sound linked to the impending thought of a tragedy that I could not stop.

I had this dream a handful of times over a year or so, they were apart by enough months that it made it difficult to recognize it as a memory.  It started in snapshots, they way my dreams usually appear, so there was no narrative to it, no way of knowing it.

For my 21st year I was aloud to go back to my home country for a year, to study, to see my family, to find some link to my past, and somewhat to try and find the answers to my birth family which had been never quite been put together.  The plan was made and studied hard to be given the green light by my University.  It was the first time I was to return home in 8 years, and the first time I was going to see my cousin since I was 5.  It was also going to be the last, but I did not know that then.  

As life has it, dad's position at work was dissolved and I returned home one day to hear that my trip was no longer possible.  I was not, still am not, the calmest person under bad news, and I lost it.  I was angry, sad, I don't know, I just lost it. When I looked back on it I thought that even for me the rage that ensued was more than I had in me, but there was a depth to the sadness that made it impossible to control.  I begged, I screamed, I slam doors and threw things (all somewhat normal behavior for me - I was an angel); but the reality of the situation was that no way could this trip be afforded.  I didn't care.  I was a rage and the only thing I was certain off was that I needed to go back home.  Then the dream came back.  Over and over until the only thing I ever remembered was the sound of that car.

(Sep 12, 2015)

Dream Notes

My mind has always heard little nudges, images, thoughts, premonitions, whatever you want to call them.  They come out of nowhere usually in dreams, mostly though, they have a kind of narrative.  Sometimes they come back over and over, and if I am lucky (or not) I get to find out what they were. Many years ago I had a recurring dream about a moment that later occurred.  I will tell it somewhere below, it was passed over by a friend who had died years earlier, I know that sounds crazy, but I can offer no other explanation. That dream allowed me to recognize a moment that could have affected many lives, or maybe it was just coincidence.  I could find no other explanation then, or now, so many years later, that my friend sent me there to stop something.  Please feel free to tell me I am crazy!  Sometimes I tell myself, but I never listen.

But when I met you something that had never happened started out of the blue.  I will call these dream notes, because they were almost like little whispers that suggested crazy stuff.  And I could do nothing but do what they said, usually at terrible times, like the middle of the night or while I was doing something important, trust me I would argue the time, but...

#DN: ask him for coffee
ME: its 3 in the morning, leave me alone
DN: send him a message
ME: no, you are crazy (goes back to sleep)
DN: ask him
ME: fine, shut up (sends him a text - are you working on the weekend? coffee?) - idiot its not even daylight

#DN: (a photograph of a sculpture - wooden feet, walking)
ME: ok! I'll ask dad to make it

#DN: (waking dream) If only! - we stood in the classroom, your back against the wall, I stood before you and asked you if you were really strong.  You looked at me funny and said yes.  I mean really strong.  Yes.  Give me your hands, you have to be really strong, do you trust me?. Yes.  I grabbed hold and lifted my feet off the ground.  You held tight, you were strong, far more than I thought you could be, you held me up.  I lifted myself higher and kissed you.  You looked at me, with that blank look you get when you are filled with thoughts, but don't want to show it.  I said, you are stronger than I imagined, and smiled, I put my feet back on the ground. You walked out the door, said not a single word.

#DN: tell him you love him
ME: he knows
DN: tell him straight out
ME: everyone knows
DN: grab a dictionary and tell him in Greek
ME: seriously (goes away and does it)

#other people: delete him from your life, he has gone overseas and you never have to see him again anyway
ME: I might see him in the hallways
other people: he is not good for you
DN: show him the ending to your story, show him what you are all about, let him know that you know he is going away for three weeks, tell him you want to see him when he comes back
ME: (did all of the above except the last part - chicken)
DN: tell him you know about his dreams too

#him: Ohhhhh! I want some of that cake! (grabs my wedding finger and bends the hell out of it)
ME: it's for Liam's birthday, you can have some after the candles
him: come back (Still grabbing hold)
ME: you are hurting me
him: (does not let go, just stares with those big blue eyes)
DN: tell him you love him!
ME (to DN): are you crazy I've known him 2 weeks
DN: tell him you love him!!!!

#DN: make him a box (photograph of gnocchi)
ME:  lunch?
DN: a box with home made gnocchi and a tart
ME: ok, I can do that, then what?
ME: I know, a card with a rainbow and trees
DN: you are getting it!
ME: I can do that
DN: leave it for him, make sure you are not there
ME: will miss his reaction.  i miss him, haven't seen him since he came back
DN: you'll live
ME: he loves my food
DN: :)

 #DN: he is here
ME: i can feel him (smile)
DN: tell him you love him.  kiss him.  hold his hand
ME: (chicken)
students:  'The Lion is Here!!!!'
ME: shut up, he is going to know
students: everyone knows - tell him you love him -

#DN: tell him you want to do the WA ride with him
ME: totally!!!

(edited Sep 9 2015)

Ricki and The Flash

"Well she was an American girl 

Raised on promises 

She couldn't help thinkin' that there 

Was a little more to life 

Somewhere else 

After all it was a great big world 

With lots of places to run to 

Yeah, and if she had to die 

Tryin' she had one little promise 

She was gonna keep" 

(Tom Petty - American Girl)

Two things came to mind at the opening of the film, with Tom Petty's classic song bursting into my head -- One, that I had boots just like those (loved those boots!!! I broke the sole the morning I realized Jay was the most beautiful soul I had ever met - when I kicked a traffic light button - way too drunk and too crazy to care---- but to other stories... sorry I tend to get lost in thought). And two that this song was going to be the setting for the story.  All the things that she held in her heart, and the guilt that did not let her move on; but the story she had to go and find.  Linked to my own torments - dreams vs responsibilities - sometimes, as hard as it may seem for everyone else to comprehend, you need to let go and find the thing that makes your soul tick over, otherwise you are just kind of a flicker rather than a flame.

Ricki (aka Linda Brumel - Meryl Streep) is more than anything a musician, you can see that it is her passion to stand on that stage, but she is broken, the voice and the aura does not carry the momentum that her heart desires.  There is something missing, and it is not the brilliant Greg (Rick Springfield) who stands by her through all the turbulence that she is so good at throwing his way; no it is not his love and support that is lacking.  It is something within her, until she finds it, nobody could possibly fill that void.  Being a complete nutcase for love stories, I wished there was more to their part; theirs was a seriously cute relationship in the making.  Greg's painful looks when she throws a curve ball his way made me understand why (superman) thought I didn't respect him; playful banter, I told myself; but I guess sometimes we underestimate the power of our words. 

But its the other kind of love that this story is about, the kind that has no choice, nor boundaries, and the one that we mess up over and over, just trying to make the right moves.  Linda is summoned back to Indianapolis by her ex-husband Pete (Kevin Kline) after their daughter Julie (Mamie Gummer) is abandoned by her new husband for a sticker loving, nasty piece of work (but we'll leave that be).  Ricki's life is the way she wants it, strategic, with boxes ticked and plotting along; she is not responsible for anyone and keeps them all at arms length anyway.  Being called back to play the role of mother is scary for her, but she doesn't question it, she puts on all the wear that protects her and gets on the plane to face the music.  And though there are many obstacles in her way, there is no question that both her family and her needed to go through this moment to heal and move forward.  

There is a scene in the kitchen when we become aware that Linda and Pete are the kind of friends that you know would have been impossible to separate.  The kind of soul connection that is rare to find in a life; thunder and rain, but that which carries with it a chemistry that cannot be equaled.  Sorry Maureen (Pete's wife), but no matter how many frills you put on the furniture, and how amazing your cooking and how grand the house; the way that Pete and Linda look at each other cannot be compared.  But choices are usually made because it is safer to be with the easier version of our lives. They have a chemistry that is fun and free - and cannot be avoided when they inhabit the same space.

When Linda tells Pete that music was her dream and she needed to follow it, he painfully tells her he thought they were her dream...  she asks if she could have had both and he resonates with a no.  Painful truth number two, sorry (superman) when I said you should decide between two characters in a film, you asked if you could be both, and I said no.  How wrong of me...  the kind, selfless, funny, soulful and shy kind of person that I adore, and the dedicated, strong, powerful, sensual man you want to be knows for.  You can, and should be the two parts of you.

'Ricki and The Flash' is fun, but it is also poignant and resonates (I am sure than with more than just me) that we all find forks in the road of life, and though we have at that moment choices to make, these do not come easy.  Greg reminds Ricki that just because we mess up once does not mean that we do not deserve another chance, and gives it an uplift of hope.  

In the end, all is somewhat well, but for me it is obvious that what was once lost cannot be the same again.

 

The Story of You - 2

I guess I should say; many years ago, by coincidence, I became a teacher.  That was not the path I had planned, or ever considered, but a great Professor saw that in me. She was one of those people that felt more like a friend than a teacher, she got me, or at least I felt that way, because she always heard what all of me was saying.  So, when she said that I should follow that path, while I continued to study to become the great writer/filmmaker that I wanted to be, I thought, well who am I to argue.  Seldom did people see something grand in me, so I took her advice.  

The following year I applied for the Masters Degree that I wanted to follow and the Teaching Degree that she saw within me, and left it to chance.  I do that… believe in the Universe and leave things to chance because somewhat I think the right path is already written in the stars.  Life had me a little challenge though, it offered me both, so my plan sort off did not work as smoothly as I had presumed.  Life threw the choice back in my face… well thank you, I say! I was so bad at making choices.  Anna then suggested that I should do teaching first, and then start working while I did my Masters part-time.  I needed a better job, since becoming a student had set me back a lot.  So, I went with it, I studied hard, I passed the hurdles that came with doing a tough course, and after 12 months I had a card that said I could go ahead and educate the next generation, on things linked to English and Media.  God save them, I thought!  But actually, I turned out to be good at it.  I owe that, I think, to some of the great teachers I've had in my life, the crazy ones, the ones that still stay in my minds eye even after decades have passed.  I owe them everything, because when I became one myself, I knew the only way I would be able to make a difference was to become the kind of person that saw the kids - through the good and the bad, and who challenged and questioned, and who did  not do the paper pushing, but the pushing of minds.  It was not going to be an easy ride, and I never wanted it to be.  It just, sometimes, it became more painful than I thought I could survive.  

To all the kids, big and small, that ever entered my teaching path, I am so grateful, even the tough ones.  You all taught me lessons I will never take for granted.

But back on the initial thought.  I became a teacher because of Anna, but I left it behind because of me.  Everything happens for a reason, and for me though teaching had to be part of my journey, it was never my destination.  

I think that meeting you right after I had decided to walk away from it was more meaningful than it first appears.  We met in October, I feel by a coincidence that was kind of scheduled.  I should explain.  

I applied for the job that I had at the time we met, on a whim.  You could say there is a pattern to my choices.  Almost two years prior, while I sat in a library in Geelong I got an email about a job working with disengaged youth.  I had not planned at that time to go back into a classroom; I was running my little business and had around 20 students, I was more than busy.  I was studying Forensic Psychology (one of my other passions) and trying to write my Thesis in Cinema, and doing my very best to be an ok parent.  Life was full, did I need another job… no way!!  I copied the link to my desktop and let it fade away.  Maybe later... next year, whatever, I thought.  But after a few weeks passed, a final argument with my supervisor and the ending of a contract, changed things.  I had nothing to lose so I emailed that job, way too late to even be considered, but like I said, I leave everything to chance.  

The next week I met with the lady that run that show and a week later I had the job… crazy!!!  After I met you I learned that you got your job, around the same time as I did; though I don't know anything about the choices that led you there.  You came into our centre regularly, and worked with some of my students.  I am sure we passed each other in the hallway or the yard; but we never met.  That wouldn't seem like much if we were a big school, and I was not involved in everything that had to do with the students and my boss; but we were tiny, and I knew everything about everybody.  

I think once I walked into her office and you were there, I remember her introducing me to someone, but I was on a roll about something and I barely glanced in your direction. Within in the same breath I said hi, and blah blah blah about whatever was going on at the time, before rushing back to my class.  Sorry… I must have seemed like a real charmer!

A couple of months before we met, I applied to Community Services at Tafe, because I wanted to follow a desire to work for Child Protection.  I thought long and hard when that decision came about, especially because my sickness had made me want to push back from everything and follow only that which really mattered.  If I had left in the middle of the year, like my head told me to do, we would not have met.  Or maybe, we would  have, just not then.  You had crossed my path before… when I read your stories I remembered when.  Sometime before, when you walked the side of the highway pushing a wheelie bin full of fairy dust, I drove past you.  I thought then, that you were some kind of 'odd' person, but when I read your blog, I just thought the odd one was me.  I told you later, in conversation, that I had never noticed you before and you said "well!!! I never noticed you either", and we both laughed.  I guess that was not true, I noticed you every time, I just wasn't ready to see you.

You walked into my life in October, in my head I had already decided to leave teaching at the end of that year.  But you came in and put in front of me a project I could not walk away from; or maybe I couldn't walk away because it was you.  And though I tried really hard to push you away, I could't do it.  So I took the full-time job, and the curriculum writing that was dangled in front of me, and the chance to work with you on a magazine that could give the kids a voice they never thought they had.  How could I say no.  How could I ever leave, when your spirit held me hostage in a way that I had so little control over.

You walked into my life on a day that my body felt broken, but my heart felt alive, and I did not understand why...

The Story of You

The day we met, someone I cared about a lot, told me that you were the one for me.  It seemed crazy at the time, more than insane, the only thing that had occurred between us was an argument over a couple of kids.  Your stance defended the one I needed to show guidance to, and your punishment went to the one I wanted to protect.  I thought nothing much more of you, than the perception that you had no idea what you had done.  But for some reason I could not fight you.  The lioness inside me was tamed by your side, but not because I wanted you to like me, for I couldn't have hated anyone more in that moment.  But  for the rage that usually comes out throwing punches was not there for you, something inside made me respect the choice you made, even though my brain was screaming otherwise.

I went back to school that night and talked to my friend about you.  I told him what you had done, I told him I detested you, but couldn't shake you.  He probably said, only three more days and you never have to see him again, just look the other way.  I could  almost bet that he felt the danger of the connection right then.  A couple of weeks later while he and I argued over whether I should work with you on your project, he told our boss that if she let me have that, if she let us work together, it would be the end of everything.  I thought he was crazy, and after a lot of quarrelling, we decided that it would be up to you.  When the time came, weeks later, you just said that I was going to be doing the editing, you never asked, never presumed that I would say no. Later you made me a mentor, and from the onset it felt like we were a team of one.  The thing is, I don't think we ever had a choice.  Our meeting was like thunder and rain.  

I never understood how we were both under the same roof, for at least a year, in your comings and goings into our place of work, and we never met. I never got how I didn't learn of your projects, when posters were up, and you worked with some of my closest pupils.  I told you later that I remembered reading about your car pushing exercise :p in the paper and thought that man was crazy!!  But I never knew you, had I known, I would have been cheering front row. I was instead, dealing with an overwhelming sickness; an inexplicable complication that made my body fail to absorb the iron in my blood.  They did all this tests and nothing was found, there was no internal or external explanation; and then in the end there was just a whole lot of bleeding.  A month of completely unnatural loss of fluid, when I walked back into the hospital the last time the doctor could not believe I was standing and talking.  I remember his face so clearly, he grabbed my hand and said I had lost 2/3 of all the blood in my body, I should not be smiling, I should be unconscious.  I almost wanted to hug him and say I did not feel that bad, just a little tired.  Just as quickly as the illness came about, it went away.  That last time in the hospital they kept me in and did another bunch of tests, they gave me a whole lot of new blood (thank you donors, I am breathing because of you!), they put in something to stop the bleeding and then I got shipped out.  They never found what caused all the madness inside me, the months of exhaustion, of pain, of fainting just ended, 2 days before I met you. 

Our meeting was like thunder and rain, but it would have never happened had I not been half dead the week before.  My life was in motion,  I had places to be, I had other plans and you were not meant to be standing there.