Singular Scene

So Singular in Each Particular

The Deeleea Interview!

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Fi delivered an irresistible invitation over at Kiwifruit this morning – something along the lines of “leave a comment if you want me to interview you”. Well. it’s irresistible alright when you are a living in an obscurity you feel you don’t deserve… [joke…] (If you would like me to interview you just leave a comment! I’d love to oblige.)

1) You’ve been living in Aussie for quite a while now. Are there essential differences between NZ and Oz as a nation? Or are we really just the same but with slightly different accents?

Different, totally different. It seems to me that Kiwis are a lot easier to get to know – to make lasting friendships with! Weird huh? You’d expect a lot more similarities; I know I did, actually it was a good 4 years before I felt really at home here. And to tell the truth my best mate here in Oz is another Kiwi!

In Oz you can’t just drop in for a cuppa if you’re driving by, you have to call first. And having the family just rock up and stay the night is out of the question… (Unless of course it was planned in advance.)

In all honestly this may be just a Sydney thing … big city etc. maybe country folk are a bit cruisier… However I reckon there is a definitely more spontaneous nature in NZ and it certainly feels as though us cuzzy bros are a lot more trusting of others.

(I hope none of my Ozzie readers aren’t offended, like I say, I may be completely wrong… it’s just that this is the way things have felt to me…)

2) What is your most cherished possession and why?

Oh gosh… the laptop. It is my contact with the big wide world, my livelyhood, my photo album, my jukebox, my diary, and lately my love life …

Damn, I definitely need to get out more…

3) What is something that you are determined to do before you leave this mortal coil (or cark it ;))

Do I have to be totally honest???

[blushes]

To have sex…

I prefer not to elaborate beyond that, though the reason as to why this might be so is all tied up in the answer to question 5.

4) What is your fondest memory of your mother? And of your father?

Of Mum – Being there in the early stages of her emergence from a coma. While her words didn’t match what she was trying to communicate, and her hands behaved contrarily and frustrated the living daylights out of her, the thing she was trying to make known was that she knew us and wanted to hug us. That she was alive, that she knew us. That we hadn’t lost her altogether. Still breaks me up.

Of Dad? … This is harder, some of the the most memorable moments weren’t great. I guess the fondest is hearing him tell only a few years ago that me he loved me, and knowing he meant it.

5) You’re a very spiritual sort of person – tell me what God means to you.

The short answer is everything – which isn’t fair for others reading who would find that difficult to understand so I think the best explanation is to describe what it feels like.

It feels like anything is possible because I’m backed up by the biggest big brother/father/friend in the universe.
It feels like all hell can come against me and everything will be ok, because if He’s with me who can be against me?
It feels like I have nothing to fear.
It feels like nothing I have done in the past will be held against me either now or in the hereafter – ever… (phew)
It feels like believing what He said about life, believing how He made it and believing how He can fix what went wrong with it, makes living make sense to me.

I feel like I have peace- more than that, I know I have peace – and while sometimes anxiety kicks in it never lasts. I know where I came from, I know where I’m going and while I know that things here aren’t perfect, that people and plans change, that life never quite turns out like you had anticipated, I feel secure. Totally secure. I don’t have to flog myself to be acceptable, I don’t have to be anything but me. Because He loves me that much, how can I respond except with love in return? As a result I make sacrifices willingly (including point 3) basically because I’ve seen the damage done when one lives with only oneself in mind – I fully prefer not to do that damage to myself or others.

Strangely, living this way hasn’t hurt much at all – actually it feels very much as though it has made me free.

Wiblog entry for 07/07/2005

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I was standing looking down on an arena of 18,000 people, hands raised, faces aglow in the blaze of lights and the glory of God. An extraordinary event, led by an extraordinary worship leader.

Many Tears. Repentance and Joy.

And then an announcement.

And heartfelt prayers, united in silence. And Shock.

Travelling home, listening to the reports of sadness, so hot on the heels of Olympic joy, I cried.

And cried.

Not because of fears for family..

but for you, my wibsite friends… the thought that you could be in danger and the thought that your families may be affected. The prospect of the changes such a thing brings to a place.

And so I do all that I can do from so far.

I pray that all is well.

I pray that healing comes.

I pray that mercy is ministered.

I simply pray and pray simply.

Lord have Mercy.

On the Quiet

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I am at the office, it’s 5.05 and most of the staff have hiked off for the day. I can hear the aircon humming and the occasional voice but basically it is quiet.

Quiet.

That has to be one of my favourite states.

My shrink once described to me the notion of skinlessness. It is something that Spike Milligan referred to as part of the lot of the creative human. An unnatural sensitivity to the world. Heightend senses, if you will.

I am over sensitive to noise. If I don’t get time out at various intervals I get all sorts of aggravated… Seriously. I never really thought of it being part of my nature as someone creative. But there you have it. I am skinless… what can you do?

*shrugs*

It’s a good excuse I guess. A good reason for being so cranky when I have exceeded the limit of my tolerance for hearing people eat (the most irritating noise in deeleea’s universe). It’s an excuse I can throw at Flick when she comes home all abounce with news of the day and all she gets out of me is a baleful stare…

Sometimes I feel like such a bitch. I have moments when all I want to say is “It isn’t your fault you’re irritating me… but you are… could you stop talking please?… Thanks.” Some days it’s worse than others. Some days I’m tired, stressed or premenstrual.

But most of the time you wouldn’t even know… my own private hell. Chirpy on the outside and seething within.

Thank God for my Precious. My very own personal noise filter. It replaces one noise with noise of another kind but I can live with Nik Kershaw and Coldplay in my ears.

Couldn’t You??