dua-puluh-satu

Ok, so I have this reeeally embarrasing photo, ok, a few, of my good friend Steffanie. But I know that if I upload them here she will throttle me.

Today it is Steff's 21st birthday. I just wanted to acknowledge that on my blog, because she is by far one of my closest friends.

It all started in late february 2005, a warm sunny day where I got a blood nose. The first day of the rest of my life. The first day of university. I was standing in a group of people, on the second floor of the education building. In this group contained a few 'popular people', people who seemed to know each other, I had come to Bendigo knowing one person in the whole city. There was a guy there who was seemingly outgoing, and introduced himself as Bluey. There were two other quieter girls, their names being Steff and Tegan. From around the corner was the first time I saw Nita, she rushed past us, we acknowledged that we were her new Indonesian class, and she rushed off again. Everyone smiled at the little Indonesian lady, and everyone noted that she was so cute. I remember this day like it was yesterday. We all entered EDU22.5 and there was our first Indonesian class.

There was something about Steff I couldn't shake off. She seemed like a really nice girl, very quiet, very clever, a quiet achiever, but there was just something about her that made me want to know her more. (this is starting to sound like a love story!)

One of my classes was called "Intro to teaching" with Wilf Savage. On my first tute I realised that there was someone I knew in there, that girl, agh, can't remember her name. But she does Indonesian with me! So I sit next to her, this loud outgoing indigenous lady who goes by the name of Kerri, and another girl called Annette. We decide to work together on our tute presentation for the subject, a free choice, which ends up being about safety.

I remember our first meeting for the subject so clearly. Kerri and Annette got talking about something else, and I was just sitting there with my new friend "Steph". She was eating a sandwhich, and I had brought something from the canteen. She casually asks me, "So.. are you involved with Christian Union?"

Lights went on. I knew it, this girl is a christian! That feeling I couldn't knock, this is it! I said that I was, and that (at the time) I was going to Victory. "oh, they always send new christians in town to Victory!" she told me.

One day Indonesian became unbarable. I was terribly homesick and the grammar became too much and I couldn't hide it. It was back when we had classes at 7:30pm. I rushed to the toilet to try and get myself together, and who would follow me but Steff. I confessed to her that I was so homesick, stressed, and just not understanding the grammar. I remember the concerned look in her eyes.

The second semester of my first year came up quickly. Steff was in my inclusive ed tute with Cherry Rattue. Here started my hanging out in the SU, meeting new people, and forming "the latest phase" friendship group.

Time went on and it was time for me to move back to Pinnaroo for summer. I didn't want to but mum needed my help. It was the craziest 3 months of my life. I kept in contact with Steff, thanks to the beautiful creation called MSN. It's funny the conversations that you can get into on MSN, its like you can get to know someone on a different level.

I was so happy to move back to Bendigo. Steff invited me to her youth group. The first time we went we went to Eaglehawk. She came and got me from the terraces. I stood in the carpark waiting for her, and I knew exactly when it was her, because the volvo was coming up the road at about 20kmph.

I kept a few of my MSN conversations with Steff. I have numerous "Steffs PE advice" (wanna borrow it?) and "Steffs advice about this" and "Steff's advice about that" files throughout my computer. One of them I read with utter frustration the other day about how Steff was so willing to help me, but I held back and became such a neusience!

Over my first prac for second year, I discovered Dragostea Din Tei. Oh dear. Oh yes. THAT song. It was repeated over and over and OVER again, and we know each word to the romanian song. With that came many phases, the blitz phase was one of them. Retro another.

One day I remember waking up at 6am in an utter panic, coming to my 8am class in tears. I told Steff my deepest darkest secrets, and she didn't judge me. She was extremely supportive, and has been ever since. We stayed up until 3am on MSN once with me telling another one of my most secretive secrets. Steff probably knows me the best closest to God. She helped me get back on track, and challenged me in my walk with God. She has been such a strong influence in my life, and I look up to her.

We were once driving along in the Volvo, when she said to me, "hey, you know, it's funny I turned out like this when I lived in Kangaroo Flat." I said, "yeah, you didn't stab anyone or anything, but for all I know, you could have taken someone out into the bush and killed them." Her voice changed and she said to me "where do you think we're going now?"

Yes, I am a dag, but I'm Steff's dag. I may be a dag, but Steff is a fiss. Maybe it's just a South Australian thing ;) Maybe it's because I've been diagnosed with a fatal condition, and I am dying. My remaining lifespan could be a mere 70-80 years. The condition longevitis infectus fericirea et-al (LIFE) But it's ok, all of the worlds most successful people have also been diagnosed with this condition.

But I think that it was meant to be that Steff and I would stumble across each other at this time in our lives. Because the 6km distance from Steff's house to the Bendigo CBD does indeed correlate with the 6km distance from my home town to the SA/VIC border. It is simply the cosmos' way of informing us that we should be sisters, and in fact, were it not so, the very universe as we know it would spiral off into chaos.

Steff and I have a secret language too. Obeng. Sembarang.

The other day, I was innocently sitting next to Steff in a lecture theatre, holding my broken lunch box. Steff turns to me, and says, "I have the sudden urge to piff that across the room". I hand it to her, expecting her not to do it, and she throws it down the front of the lecture theatre.

So here comes the third year. And I'm happy Steffs still around.

I just wanted you to know Steff that you are indeed a very special person in my life (is-tem-e-wa!), and what a better day to let you know than your 21st! May you always know how great a part of my life you are, and that I wouldn't trade anything in the world to be your friend.

May God bless you and keep you today and always!

*hands book* Steffanie Cutmore, this is your life! *and the crowd goes wild*

This is my tribute for you:

istemewa

Here comes a serious post. Watch out.

I don't know if it's just my mind playing tricks on me. But have you ever felt looked down upon? Have you ever felt like people judge you for what you are, or are not. That perhaps you don't have it "all together" right now. That you should get back on track so that you can do great things for God...

What a lie! I'm sick of living under this impression. I'm sick of the gossip. I'm sick of the fact that I seem to be 16 and not 20. I'm sick of the fact that people get the impression that I've only been a christian since I walked through the doors of a church. 6 years. My understandings of doctorines and teachings are broader than people think. I was brought up as a pentie in an evangelical setting. I'm not as stupid and vulnerable as people think.

I have walked many paths, and are yet to walk many more. These words were spoken over my life in year 12.

Someone wise once said to me to change with God. I want to change. I want to be better with him in accordance to HIS will, not MINE.

It's a stupid misconception that we need to get over. We need to stop living this lie that we'll never live up to peoples standards. I'll never live up to God's standards, it's by the grace of Jesus death that I can.

I was praying over something I was involved with the other day, and I felt like God was really putting this word on my heart:

Jeremiah 1
5 “ Before I formed you in the womb I knew you;
Before you were born I sanctified you;
I ordained you a prophet to the nations.”

6 Then said I:


“ Ah, Lord GOD!
Behold, I cannot speak, for I am a youth.”

7 But the LORD said to me:


“ Do not say, ‘I am a youth,’
For you shall go to all to whom I send you,
And whatever I command you, you shall speak.
8 Do not be afraid of their faces,
For I am with you to deliver you,” says the LORD.

9 Then the LORD put forth His hand and touched my mouth, and the LORD said to me:


“ Behold, I have put My words in your mouth.
10 See, I have this day set you over the nations and over the kingdoms,
To root out and to pull down,
To destroy and to throw down,
To build and to plant.”

***

It;s not by our might. It's not by our strength, but by God's. He is the one who can put the words in our mouths. He is the one who can empower us through his spirit. Jeremiah says, that he is a youth, God says that doesn't matter. I say, but God, they say.. God says it doesn't matter. You say, But God... God says it doesn't matter...

Before you were born he knew you and set you apart to change this world.

God takes us where we're at, I'm convinced that God can do anything, even use a little crazy south australian havent got it all together girl like me.

I just wish people could see me as God could see me..

dokter

"You should blog about it" - Spatch

My doctor is extremely funny. He's the type of doctor where you have a five minute appointment, and you can be talking about it for half an hour!

The first time I ever saw him, he asked me "now, Samantha, what do you study here at this marvellous institution?"
He prescrived me some pills that I never took because he freaked me out by saying, "and if you take them, don't drink alcohol, because it will blow your guts out!"

The second time I went I was an emotional wreck. I was bawling my eyes out and I even brought someone with me for support. He came and sat next to me, took me by the hand, and said, "aww Samantha, what's wrong? Am I not pretty enough for you?" Here I am, hysterically crying, yet hysterically laughing at the same time. Then he started patting me like a dog, saying "aww, what;s wrong?" hehe. Then he began to talk very high pitched and told me he had had a sex change, but it went terribly wrong. Then he tried to teach me a technique of taking pills with a big mac. I guess you'd just have to be there. The friend I brought with me was laughing so hard she was crying.

The next day I was in the student services area, and he walked past. I heard him talking to people in the office in the same 'sex change' voice.

But yesterday I went and saw him again. He's a funny dude. He said, "oh you've come to tell me these are **** and I can stick them up my bum!" hehe. He was happy to see me smiling this time "it feels like I've achieved something. One small step for man or whatever." And then as he let me out of his office, he wished me good health, good love, good studies, good whatever.

Hehe I think laughter is the best medicine

berasal dari tempat ini

This article was sent to me in an envelope titled with the return address as "love mum, Pinnaroo 5304". Enjoy.

Heart and soul of the Mallee

By PETER GOERS

April 29, 2007 12:15pm

THE Mallee is not rooted. It's tough country like its people – generous, real, good, strong.

They squint their eyes looking west for rain and they know how to have a good time. They are the memory of rain.

I played the Pinnaroo Institute Hall Saturday night last week. I get around because a moving target is hard to hit.

Pinnaroo is 2 1/2 hours from Adelaide, dangerously close to Victoria. There'd be two reasons why tourists came to Pinnaroo – they'd be lost or tired.

This is wrong because, like every town, it's worth a look. I loved it because I love real people and some of them are even Crows fans. But it's a long way from Burnside.

Pinnaroo has a population of 800 and unusually the average age is 36, so there's no shortage of footballers. There are two unemployed.

Thanks to bore water they grow potatoes, carrots, onions, pistachios, olives and grain, and raise sheep, cattle and pigs.

It has a history of cockies, settlers, fettlers, battlers, one-teacher schools on corner roads, and hard scrabbled drought and more drought. If in doubt – drought.

I'm there to speak at a dinner to raise money for the Community Spud Fest. It's a grand night in the old Pinnaroo Institute.

A great community spirit, Ann Venning, is organising the dinner and the whole town. Every town has an Ann Venning and every town needs one.

I meet new best friends. Characters. "Taffy" the farmer is the barrel-chested B-grade football coach. Big bloke. Big laugh. Big heart. Loves John Howard.

"Budgie" the truckie and farmer staggers past the Institute at 10pm having spent a little too long at the 19th hole after winning his golf match at Lameroo. I invite him in. A fine fellow.

"Pav" is 18 and an apprentice agronomist. He has cut-glass looks and is celebrating his two goals, which won the B-grade footy that afternoon. He's surrounded by adoring netballers.

He's funny and he shines with the promise of a big sky. He's rotten on city pollie Dr Bob Such who recently suggested the Mallee artesian water be piped to the Murray.

Pav says: "That will bloody finish us, mate."

Glen is the new butcher – a Hackham boy who has found home. He's too new in town to have a nickname.

The night before he opened his shop in the newly community-owned and restored Victoria Building in the main street – his sausage machine broke and Ann Venning found a bolt and came in and helped him.

That's life in the co-operative country among the Pinnaroovians.

IT'S a warm Saturday arvo in Pinnaroo – the railway station, the bowling club, the disused croquet club, the swimming pool, the IGA supermarket (once Eudunda Farmers) with an Anzac display yellowing in the window.

The Lest We Forget clock has stopped. The War Memorial has War I and War II above the gold names with space for War III and War IV. God forbid.

The brass band rotunda; the football match at the oval, Pinnaroo v Border Downs-Tintinara, Pinnaroo victorious.

The Show Society Shed with a new roof glinting in the autumn sun, a monster Mallee root burning in a brazier, the netball mums selling pies and pasties from the servery in the clubhouse, the netball girls selling lollies.

A pastie, a Redskin and a winning local team is a prelude of heaven. Visitors are honoured.

The Institute Hall stands for culture. It replaced an old iron and timber hall that was moved and got stuck, and was finally shifted by elephants from Wirth's Circus.

There are murals ("muriels"), lurid and lovely, and a thrift shop in the old Commonwealth Bank. The walk-in safe contains the tax records of a local realtor and Christmas decorations. They're probably hoping it's robbed.

I stay in Room 7 at the ramshackle Pinnaroo Hotel.

"There's a lot of history here," I tell Rick, the former copper publican. "Yes," he says, "and some of it was made last night."

The room is a museum of hotels almost past: spotlessly clean – except for the dusty window; a bare bulb; a sink in the corner; a washstand with an ancient colour TV atop with a mysterious wire protruding from it; a double bed with moth-eaten Onkaparinga blankets; a rickety table with a lace cloth; and an oak veneer single wardrobe and dressing table combined.

The wardrobe door flies open when you walk past it on the creaky floorboards.

I call it the David Hicks Suite.

I'm oddly comfortable here. The room is across the road from the Institute and the Pinnaroovians tell me I won't hear the rock 'n' roll band 4Zs A Crowd.

They could have heard it in Peebinga or Lameroo, and I hope they did.

I fall asleep among the ghosts of this room; travelling salesmen, lovers, the sad, the lonely, those waiting for a knock on the door, the lost and the found.

The Gideon Bible is bookmarked with betting tickets.

The dinner was superb – cooked by volunteers with lovely local schoolkids as willing waiters.

I leave Pinnaroo at dawn in a fog like Brigadoon to be discovered by those who love the real South Australia.

I stop to plunk a few notes on a derelict piano on the return veranda of a derelict house.

It played for the Mallee. A song lost and found in eternal hope.

And the C-grade netball team is undefeated. Just like the Mallee.

Adelaide Sunday Mail, April 29, 2007, page 30

What's funny is that it's all true. And i know all of the people in that article. Funny things is it has two things that Bendigo doesnt: agriculture and employment. Is Pinnaroo the promised land?

menjadi guru?

QUOTE FOR THE DAY

"I don't want kids, I hate them."
"And you're going to be a teacher?"
"You don't need to like kids to teach them, it's a myth!"

... right...

nakal

This week in health we have been looking at self image and sexuality. When our lecturer walked into our tute this morning to tell us we were going to be watching a dvd, I expected that it would be a cheesy 80s clip about sex ed. How wrong I was. It was something much much worse - a documentry that had been on sbs a few weeks ago about Bratz, Bras and Tweens.

I have never liked the idea of Bratz, I don't think they're merely the next generation barbie doll. Their influence on young girls concerns me a lot.
They target a very vulnerable group of younger children. I walked into k-mart one day to see a Bratz spin the bottle game - what the?

But the documentary I saw today clarified my view on Bratz. It clarified to me that it is robbing children of their innocence. Children of a young age shouldn't have to worry about their image. Promotion of such high values of fashion, weight, peer pressure and cruelty should not be around. It breaks my heart to see what such little children are getting into at such a young age. Can kids really be kids with all of this pressure?

Again, I think it makes me want to make a difference all the more, for kids to know that they are loved and accepted by God!

Thoughts?

gas

"ha! I'm going to blog about this!"

Tonight Claire and I decided to cook a lasagne from Aldi which has been in our fridge for about a month.

Tonight was a real milestone for us. We had not yet used our oven (we have used the stove, but havent been sure how to use the oven). Armed with the flicky-lighter-mathingimybob, Claire turns on the gas and flicks around the oven.

I then realise that there's a little flicky thing you hold onto while you light the stove. Now we can definately smell the gas, but nothing is happening. I message ex-housemate Rachel to try and work out what to do.

We turn off the gas for a bit, as the smell was getting a bit overwhelming. Claire then turns it on, as I pull the little trigger and she flicks the flicker once again.

Now I turn the gas off again because the smell was gross, and realise that the oven knob indeed
wasnt turned on, and Claire had the grill on.

So we turned the grill off. And finally lit our oven to cook the much needed lasagne.

But this isnt the end. It is only just the beginning.

20 minutes later, I hear some colourful language coming from the kitchen. Neither of us realised that the plastic was not supposed to stay around the lasagne (we didnt realise that under it there was aliminium). I think we both just assumed it was one of those plastics that doesnt melt, like those baking trays you can get. Wrong.

I think we've saved it, but it's still cooking. It's a bit of trial and error considering we can't read the dial on the oven to tell us the temperature.

So I wonder if this is the end yet?

keguruan

It's funny, God's ways are not our ways. It's funny that its when I'm not longing or expecting an experience of God, it happens. Perhaps that reflects my motives in what I expect or want out of my relationship with God.

It's like this funny thing that happened to me today.

I didn't have a good night last night. I foolishly stayed up until 12:20, meaning today has been a very rough day. I hit the snooze button three times, and ended up driving to uni (bad!). I very lethargically made it up to my 9am Indonesian class. Got into the elevator and complained to God that I wanted to go home, and I felt like God was reminding me of Colossians 3:23.

"Do what I've called you to do."

So in my expectance, an innocent conversation in Indonesian springs up about the life of the Balinese, which eventually goes into the concept of their religion: Hinduism. The unexpected was where it would lead.

We were talking about the concept of the trimurti, which is kind of like a trinity. There are three Gods: Siwa (destroyer), Wisnu (protector), and Brahmana (creator). Then we got on to the Christian concept of the trinity - father, son and holy spirit, comparing and contrasting.

Now this conversation took up a majority of the lesson, and I could feel this unexplainable feeling inside of me, like I never wanted this conversation to end. I didn't know this for sure, but now I do, after two and a half years: it turns out that my Indonesian lecturer (who is from Yogyakarta in Indonesia) is indeed a christian, and has been before she came to Australia. Immediately I grabbed my dictionary, looked up some vocab and asked her about persecution in Indonesia. Unfortunately, it is just as real as I'd heard. Riots between them and muslims, burning of churches. She said it was quite scary.

Some joked that perhaps she was trying to convert us. She spoke so openly and freely. She told us about how she thought that God is such a beautiful concept. She wrote in big letters "KASIH" which means love, saying that it is the most important thing, and that God is love. The whole time I just wanted to give her a hug. I wanted to tell her the real reason I was in, and have been in her Indonesian class for two and a half years now. I wanted to tell her what I was all about! I want to invite her out for a coffee and tell her everything!

After class I couldn't help myself. I wanted to make myself known. I asked her where she went to church. She made must have made a connection out of my interest in the topic and asked me the same.

But yeah, here's hoping I can talk to her again!

pertanyaan pertanyaan

TAKE MY QUIZ!


The scoreboard is over there >

hujian

"Sammy (of the Airways or Smedley variety) rocked up when she was supposed to. This having all been arranged around 11:30pm last night, she coming all the way from Bendigo. Burkie was 20 minutes late and in our wandering we let him have another few waiting on the steps under the clock.

Trammed it down to St.Kilda area and watched this magnificent storm move in from the bay. The clouds were the blue of the wall in my room and angry and powerful and beautiful. Burkie’s face was attached to his camera and if he puts any up on flickr I might just provide a link (which will go right here if he does, give me a yell if that link is not okay Burks). The rain came and we made a run for Luna Park and stood in the doorway out of the wet, that however didn’t help much and so we pulled another runner to the McDonalds and watched as the rest of the world splashed around, came up the stairs laughing and held count downs to move from location to location.

Jess and Belle met us there shortly after, the rain temporarily slowed. We found a very nice cafe somewhere along some street - oh how observant I am. Sat for a good while with our coffee and cameras, of which I was poorly the odd one out and talked.

We eventually went back to Luna Park to see if we could find an open roller coaster for Belle. No such luck, instead found another down-pour or three, one next to a baloon popping prize stand and the other again in the doorway. Burkie attempted to hail a taxi, standing in the pouring rain with no shoes and finally got one after the fourth or so try. Sammy, Burks and I left Jess and Belle, who got picked up a moment later and we made our way to Burkie’s ‘apartment/flat/house/thing’ whereby he drove us back into the city.

Sammy’s train was at 6pm so I decided to wait around with her. We plunked ourselves in Gloria Jeans. She hit the coffee again and I decided to attempt their Chai Tea which was far too sweet and gave me a headache. We talked solidly for almost two hours, sussed out what her train was doing and parted around a quarter to six."

Down Came the Rain, 25/feb/2006, allsaidanddone.com

The 25th of february, a very typical miserable Melbourne day (love it!) was the last time I saw Bec and Burkie. The last time I saw them they were both single. Now before the 25th of February comes around again, both of these lovely people will be.. married!

Ok, I guess I'd better clarify: not to each other. Bec is marrying Geoff, and Burkie is marrying Beth. Both fionce's I have never met (but hope to at some stage!!)

Anyway, the purpose of this blog was really just to congratulate you all. May God bless you at this special and exciting time of your lives. And also, a late congrats to the forementioned Jess for your engagement last year!

:)

terdekat

Draw near to God and He will draw near to you.
- James 4:7

There's a really good sermon by John Bevere everyone should listen to. I think it's somewhat related to his book A Heart Ablaze (which I am yet to read).

He says in this sermon that we need to initiate the drawing near to God. He asks, who draws near first in this passage? We do.

Anyway it's a really good sermon, check it out on his website www.messengerintl.org, it's not working for me at the moment.

When I listened to his sermon, I was driving in the car home to Pinnaroo, and it was one of those moments where you feel like a blindfold has been taken off, it was like, YES!

On that note, meanwhile back at the ranch...

I went to a different church service on sunday. It's very small, and the church members often add in something on top of a message, or just freely give testimonies. Anyway, one man was telling us about how he had these two young guys that were studying the bible and came along this verse.

Now the translation they were using actually used the words draw nigh. The young man didn't know what this meant, and asked him what nigh meant. Anyway as we were being told this story, the man got up, out of his seat. Grabbed the pastor and gave him a massive hug, and said that was exactly what he did with the man. "This is what it means to draw nigh. DRAW NIGH TO GOD!" (please correct me if I've spelt that wrong)

Anyway, that illustration was another YES moment. It was such a beautiful picture to have in my mind of drawing near to God, getting right into Him!

sms pagi ini

"Hey how r u? Do u know any1 who mite be interested in teaching kindergarten kids in Bandung, Indo? Speaking in english of course. Visa& airfare paid for by kinder..."


AGh! Pick me!!!
OK, need to calm down, pray, pray, pray... Do my lit assignment, as well as the other two which await me.. Pray more!

... Oh my gosh, just I just got a number in Indonesia to sms about it!!!

mau pulaaaang!!!

A quote absolutely nothing to do with this blog post:

"Steff, Sammy, block your ears, you're good little Christian girls and won't want to hear this." - My friend Kerri.

Be in the world but not of it?

Last night I had the best dream. I was doing my prac in Pinnaroo, and it was with the grade I wanted, and I was doing a really good job.

I woke up at 6, the aim was to get on top of some homework. Went to bed at 9:30, but was pretty insomnic.

I have been really home sick lately. I only got one week off, and I stayed in Bendigo. I really want to go and see my dog (Trav you'd like him. I hate dogs but he's a big old gorgeous lab), and my mum. Spend some time out in the abundant green open spaces. Refresh myself with some time away from Bendigo.

And then it hit me, I could go home and do my prac there in two weeks time.

My idea was to go to the prac office that day and tell them that I wanted to go to Pinnaroo or Murrayville. There's such a demand for prac places in Bendigo, I thought that they'd love me. And besides, last time I checked, I was still unconfirmed for my school.

Going home had its down sides though. I know God wants me in Bendigo. I know that there's stuff he is wanting me to do and be involved in. I'd also miss my best friends 21st, which almost made me cry at the thought of that.

So I knew I needed to pray about this. I prayed that if I was still unconfirmed when I got to uni, I would go to the prac office and tell them my idea.

I called my mum, got the phone numbers, discovered South Australia are still on school holidays. Walked to uni listening to compliments of gus, my first ever christian CD! Oh the memories of the young and wild days! (Anyone remember when you could download their music for free on gush??)

Got to uni and after 15 minutes of waiting we realised class had been cancelled. So what was supposed to be a 9am start turned into an 11am start - I could have slept in! With this I headed for the education building to discover my faith - 3 weeks in Bendigo or Pinnaroo?

I took a deep breath as I opened the education door, scanned the list of 190 students, to find that my name, was in fact, highlighted. My place in the small school on the outscurts of Bendigo, had indeed been confirmed overnight. I ripped up the peice of paper for Pinnaroo, and went and informed my friends of my fate.

So that's a nice little story for you. As for going home, at this stage I plan to go home during swot-vac. If they plan an Indonesian catch up day, I'm not going!

mau tiduuuur.....................!~

I'm soo tired.. It has been non stop since 7am this morning, including a meeting and then church, lunch, dishes, washing and homework, and I still need to live through church tonight and even possibly go out after that. Well that's my incentive.

I really wish I could drink coffee right now.. grrr.

I slept in a nice warm bed last night. When I first got in it had a really rough texture to it because of the fleecey underlay. So I just wanted to report that all that extra stuff has made my bed much warmer :)

At the moment I'm writting an essay in Indonesian, comparing and contrasting people in the Amish and Australian communities. Yeah, fun.

I think a power nap is in order!

mau mati hari ini?

Well, after I finished my last blog post, I decided it was time for lunch. I searched through what food we had, and what would take the least amount of cooking for the busy day in front of me. I found some frozen hash browns, and began to cook them on the George. Little did I know, the cord had become stuck between the plates.

While this was happening, I was still really frustrated about the fact that I really wanted soup, and couldn't find my can opener. I searched and searched through the drawers, and eventually found it with the small spoons in the top drawer. I was very happy, and opened the can, put the contents in the saucepan, and began to cook my soup.

Now by this time, the hashbrowns were almost cooked, so I put a bit of pressure on the george, when suddenly, BANG! This huge fireball emerges from the george. I immediately turned it off at the power point, freaked out, and got advice from Steff. It ended with me armed with two wooden spoons getting the plug out of the powerpoint. It's still sitting there with the hashbrowns still in it.

So that was a near death experience. I can't help but wonder what would have happened if the outcome was worse, how long it would take for someone to realise I'm not around.

I got this George for my mum for her birthday in 2005. She really liked it, however, was constantly frustrated because it was too small to cook her and Jess a decent meal. But she really liked the concept, so she went to the city and brought herself a BIGGER George, and gave me the small George. Being a uni student I happily took him in. There have been many fun days since then. We cooked steak together, we even cooked fritz together. There were many happy days of toasted sandwhiches and I even made Steff lunch on there once. Sigh.

So what will I do with George now? I think either a burial service in my back yard (lots of dirt and no garden), or maybe I could make him into an expressive form of abstract art?

Good bye George, I will miss you. Rest in peace.

In other news, I may be going back to Indonesia July this year!

bulu-bulu

In recent news:

Yesterday, in PE, we were trying to make a rain scene using clapping and clicking. Three of us were remeniscing about the time we did it at Youth Alive. The funny part about that is that those two were in Melbourne, and I in Adelaide. We're all connected in the great circle of life?

Last night for tea I was going to have soup. However it seems that the can opener has gone missing. I looked everywhere and couldn't find it!!

In other news, I changed my bed sheets today (hear the crowd go wild). When selecting new bed sheets from the abundance of which resides at this house thanks to my lovely mother, I found all of these really warm bed items. Now when I moved to victoria, my mum thought I would freeze, and geared me up with all of this stuff. However I have never used it, because I used to not feel the cold. I think it's just me that feels the cold, because my housemate is always saying how silly I am that I'm so cold. So now I have extra bed linen (including a very RETRO sheet) with some leesy underlay thing. I'll trial it tonight and report if it's any warmer ;)

And yes, I am fully aware it's only April

newspaper mama

OH MY GOSH!!!! PETER COMBE!!! I SO WANT TO GO!!!!

joining the frog club..

In the last few weeks, my friend Spatch blogged about 'Why I am a frog'.

I love Spatch, and Steff a great deal. They are two of my closest friends. But I don't want to be like them this much!

I usually love the winter. One of my motives for moving to Bendigo was for the colder climate. But this year I am finding myself to be continuouslly cold, and it's only April! That said I do love winter over summer any day.

I'm trying to work out why I'm so cold. My housemate (Melbourne girl) is always telling me I'm mad because I'm so cold when she runs around in a t-shirt and shorts. Maybe I've climatised to Bendigo weather, but wouldn't that mean I'd be ok with this weather? I know that to a degree that I have - the air in Pinnaroo is so dry my skin dries out! My only other self-diagnosis is that I am iron-deficient, or that I have lost weight and therefore have less insulation on my body.

But am I a frog? Spatch defined a cold frog as "someone who hates, and avoids, the feeling of being cold" (Tilley 2007) . I don't think I'm quite there... yet.

lost in Adelaide

Do you ever have a dream so scary that it disrupts your entire day?

I had a really frightening dream last night...

I somehow ended up in Adelaide in the early hours of the morning, and I was alone and really scared. I was having a really massive panic attack about where I was, what I did or didn't have in my posession. It was roughly five AM and I was lost in the city, in the darkness.

I began to scream, and for some reason, my mum was in Adelaide too and walked around the corner. I asked her to help me, but she told me to stop making such a scene, that I was making her look bad. We then came to the decision that I should catch the bus out to the Adelaide Hills so my auntie could come and get me and I stay with her. I then began looking for a bus as the sun was coming up. That's where the dream ended.

I'm not usually the one to have nightmares. I have my fair share of bizarre dreams - my friends all know this, because often when I see them in the morning the first thing I say is, "oh I had this dream last night..." But to actually have a nightmare is really odd for me, and to have one that has made my day feel so awful is also bizarre.

After the nightmare I couldn't sleep. It was about 4:30am and my mind felt really troubled. In a bizarre twist, before I went to sleep I had just messaged a friend telling her about how well I had slept the past few nights. All I could do was pray, quote scripture, take the thoughts captive, etc.

Has anyone else had such a bad dream like this before?

the active and the passive...

Now that I have your attention, Steff, this post is actually not about grammar...

This morning I was walking to uni, trying to figure out what I was really doing with my life, where I would end up when I graduate, when suddenly, this blue station wagon pulled out of a driveway. This station wagon was driven by a middle aged woman, and the passengers were and three younger children, obviously on their way to school.

She had the window hardly open and was smoking, these kids would have surely been inhaling second hand smoke. I felt so sorry for them, in fact it broke my heart. I know it's a parents choice in how they treat their children, but in the same way, I couldn't help but think about these poor children.

And immediately I was reminded of the harsh reality I live in. This day and age where children are abused, not only physically, but emotionally and mentally. It's something we've been learning about in our Health classes this week, that problems in childhood can lead to problems in adult hood. I was indeed thinking about this the other day on why these days there are so many people are diagnosed with depression. A friend replied with the response 'abuse of the mind'.. I cant help but think they were right.

And so while thinking about all of this in this instance this morning as the blue stationwagon headed for the traffic lights, I couldnt help but feel this sense of the fact that I am in a position that I can change the world in. I am at uni being equipped with skills to make a positive influence on these kinds of kids. And ultimately I believe that there is this ultimate higher power behind me, and that is the empowering of the Holy Spirit! I just need to surrender myself to that.. I know that there are several more hurting families and children in this city, that are abused, that are told they are worth nothing, but I want to tell them that there is a God who loves them, that God can heal their broken hearts!