Singular Scene

So Singular in Each Particular

It was bound to happen sooner or later…

by

I’ve been here in Melbourne nearly 3 months… can you believe that?

Before you read any of the following I’ll state for the record, I love it. The place is relaxed, the natives are friendly, the coffee is off the chain. And it’s all very new and exiting and fun. I mean, they have glow in the dark mini golf… what’s not to love, right? (Seriously, come visit, we’ll get drunk and go play mini golf (it’s the only way to play it, it’s so bad it’s amazing and even more so when you’re p*ssed (not that I’d know, or anything))).

In any case, things have been going well, I’ve got enough work, I’m plenty busy during the day, and all in all I love it here.

But there comes a point in any new situation like this when you really start to hanker for the kind of relationships you left behind, the kind of friends for whom no longer having you in their social circle is as big of a gut wrench as it is for me to no longer be in their social circle. And frankly, you do begin to wonder why on earth you thought it was a good idea to leave them all in the first place.

The reality kicked in, I can’t just call one of them up and say “It’s Friday, which pub are we hitting tonight?”, or “Hey, do you wanna go to a movie? What’s on? Is Tom Cruise in it? (If yes, let’s just cut straight to the Thai for dinner…”). This is about the time when not having someone to companionably spill my guts to starts to feel like about the worst thing in the world. This is about the time when that creeping depression that starts off like a smokey edge around my usually cheerful view rears its ugly head. We’re not close, that feeling and I, but we’ve had our run ins over the years and I wouldn’t have been unhappy if I never again had to roll over in the morning and not want to get out from under the covers.

So, colour me surprised that on the other end of that feeling, a weekend of actually putting myself out there in new situations rather than staying under the covers has left me feeling less plaintive and more positive that it’s only a question of time before there are people here who won’t mind me spilling my guts, or who might just say, “Hey Dee, let’s hit a movie, and no, Tom Cruise isn’t in it, but can we have Thai anyway?”

Next stop, Victoria

by

I’m sitting at the gate lounge, ready to board the flight, but I’m early, so I have time to write a note, a post to mark the end of one era and the start of the next.

As I started writing, out came a bit of a melancholy post about leaving, about closing the door on my old flat on Thursday, and every time I got to the end of that paragraph I ran out of places to go. My time in Sydney was really summed up in the previous post, in the farewell speech; my time in Sydney is a time that is marked simply by incredible people. The place I lay my head every evening is/was no more valuable than the people who were ever there with me.

The little flat on Sydney Road is a poky little place, dark, damp, and little, did I mention little? Two rooms and a bathroom, sufficient but in terms of having people over to stay, restricted. Which isn’t to say people never stayed… but it’s challenging to rearrange the furniture every evening in order that the sofa-bed can be unfurled…

Once upon a time I had a dining table and friends would come for cards, or dinner and then I started working from home and the table became a desk and formal dining went out the window in favour of Pad Thai eaten off our laps on the sofa. Sufficient, yes, but more casual than I like, and the number of people who can fit on my sofa was limited to 2… so eating out became more normal than eating in when there were friends visiting.

I’m completely happy to have spent so long in an awesome city, one that I love and that I now know so well that I can recommend so much of it to all those who ask me what’s great about Sydney.

In looking forward, I think the things I think I’ll love about the new place are the space, the light and the room. Room for people to stay, room for people to eat from the dining table, room to move, room to grow. Room for the cat to exhaust herself zooming from the bedroom to the office in her late afternoon bursts of high energy antics.

So, this afternoon I’ll touch down in the state of Victoria, tomorrow the cat will, and at some point this week, hopefully earlier rather than later, my furniture will also arrive.

I’m so looking forward to getting acquainted with Melbourne, and being able to introduce my Sydney friends to her as well.

But for now, see you soon Sydney.

So long, and thanks for an amazing 14 years.

A Valid Question – Part 2

by

On the other end of that whispered prayer there became a growing desire to pursue some further study in the area of music and ministry, singing particularly and worship leading at its more specific end.  I did some research and came up with a couple of possible places that catered to both, neither of them in NZ, one of them predictably Hillsong College, the other being the then lesser known School of Creative Arts (as it was then, now C3 College). To cut a long story short I chose to apply only to SCA.

As to why I made that choice, some years before I had overheard a conversation between the then Principal of the college and a friend of mine, in which he said to her, “If all you can think about when you wake up in the morning, is singing, you should be at my college.”  I’m not sure what sort of impact this had on my friend though she did indeed spend a year at his college the following year (1994ish) but that statement went right through me and never really left though at the time I remember shaking my head thinking “that could never be about me.”

Fast Forward to that evening in 1998 and the whispered prayer that really started the ball rolling, so when I’m thinking about which college to apply to, Crabman’s statement came back to mind and I figured I’d give it a shot… I’d put in the application to SCA and let God or fate decide whether I’m going, or not, on the back of a successful or otherwise application.

Cue a successful application, some incredible financial support from my church (who paid 2.5 years of fees for me, I am still blown away by that) and I found myself right up at February 1999 waiting at the airport for my ride to CCC (Christian City Church then, now C3 church) and the beginning of a 3 year journey of challenge, insight, faith, frustration, but above all, friendship.

You see, realistically, the best, most magnificent legacy of that time (and there were many, some less good than others) are the people I encountered and who have become the best and most important part of my world.

I started writing a list of the for you, until I realised there was no way words about each of my incredible friends does them any justice, suffice it to say that I have been incredibly blessed with people who know me. People who really, really know me and love me just the same. People who see way more in me than I do, and who have grieved my choice to move away, almost as much as I have.

They are the greatest part of my world, and the hardest part of Sydney to leave.

So, that’s basically how I ended up in Sydney, and frankly, why I stayed so long.  I have documented a little of why I’m moving on, it isn’t nearly so ‘spiritual’ a reason as a direct call to come and learn ministry.  Actually, it’s probably just as spiritual, but in these 14 years there is a great deal that’s changed for me about what spiritual means.

But that’s a whole ‘nother blog post. For another day.

Organisation Station

by

There is less than a month before I leave NSW for the long term… and the list of things to do to prepare is long and distinguished.  But bit by bit I’m ticking things off and, I hope by doing so now, a little under a month before I leave for good, I’ll be well prepared when the fateful day comes.  Realistically, I have to be really well organised because of a bunch of deadlines by which stuff needs to happen in order for the move to occur at all…

Today I had an unexpected bonus few hours to get some of the stupid fiddly jobs done, the kind of jobs you always mean to do, and never get around to… things like

  1. Getting rid of the gas bottle that’s been sitting in the laundry for a couple of years since the BBQ went to pieces and was never replaced. (That’ll be $20 tyvm).
  2. Buying a piece of timber (90x35mmx149mm) to serve as a bed slat to replace the one you stood on and broke in the god knows how distant past… and while you’re there, grab a packet of upholstery tacks with which to re-secure the the hessian tape that’s supposed to join each of the slats together and prevent them moving when you do while you’re tossing and turning in your sleep.  Wonder if you’ll sleep better now that the bed is finally fixed.
  3. Buy one of those tiny cheap hacksaws so you can shorten the broom handle you’re planning to use as a curtain rod in the bedroom.  You might not need to do this but as you’ve lived in the house 6 years, and can’t remember just whether there was a curtain in your bedroom when you moved in, consider it value add for the next tenant. (Or a bonus to help make sure you get your bond back; might be useful as a foil for the shredded carpet you had repaired after Chino used the patch under the bedroom door to sharpen his claws. Repeatedly.)
  4. Investigate the costs of dumping a mattress at the tip (dump, landfill) and find out that at the council tip it’s $30 and at the other private one it’s $55. Make a note to go to the council tip.
  5. Book an appointment for the cat at the vets.  Because she’ll need innoculations against those nasty Victorian bugs… or you know those genearal Australian ones because it’s been heck a couple of years before you got her shot previously… Yes, slack mother, you know except for the part where she never goes outside to catch such germs anyway… but, safety first.  THEN, take said cat to the vet and leave her there so she can have surgery tomorrow.  Rue the fact that the costs will be close to $500.00. Wish you’d taught the cat to clean her teeth.
  6. Book the car in for a service.  12months since the last one (because you rarely use it, except for a short trip across town from time to time) and hopefully get that really irritating noise seen to so you don’t end up in Melbourne on the 25th homicidal from the irritating noises you’ve been putting up with for the long drive, heck, for the last 18months.

What do you do when you find yourself with unexpected hours up your sleeve?

 

::NOTE:: According to WordPress this post is the 1000th to occur since I started blogging in July of 2004.  I can scarcely believe I’ve been blogging 8 years or that I’ve written that many journal entries… I also wonder if you could call me a blogger considering how few and far between these posts have become…  There will be more postage… just need to blog in those unexpected spare hours instead of running errands…