Cat-astrophes

Have you ever noticed how 'things' never come at you one at a time? They always seem to have a habit of coming en-masse.

Work has become something that brings a sick feeling to my stomach each morning. And it isn't the kids. If it wasn't for them, I'd probably be clinically insane by now. My responsibilities have more than quadrupled and my stress levels also. My week now consists of a meeting each morning and each afternoon, and my 'lunch breaks' are dedicated to playground duty, art or dance groups. My 2 hours of release time is dedicated to replenishing art supplies that other teachers have lost or (sadly) stolen. I'm accountable to the principal for the fact that in six months we have lost 150 paintbrush, $240 worth of ink, $60 worth of specialty paint, 120L of primary paint as well as a whole list of miscellaneous items.

I've been getting to school at 6:15 just to get my work prepared for the day. Then when I do plan, I find that all hell breaks loose and my plans get tossed in the bin. Today for example, I began a literacy lesson to see two builders waltz into the classroom, ask me to move my class and procede to barricade off half the room so that they could pull down a removable wall, bolt it back together and replace it.

And if one more 2-day-a-week part-time teachers with no responsibilities tells me I'm really quite lucky because no-one is really busy unless they have a family....they'll get a slapping!

Bottom line is I'm stressed.

No more news of my mum. What could've been basic corrective surgery didn't go to plan, and well...we just have to hang tight.

So the Post Script is I'm emotional.

Driving home today I was fighting back tears and trying not to think about how the deputy principal decided today that I would be great at co-ordinating an art-exhibition day at school. Or about the presentation I have to do tomorrow. Or the meeting that was called for tomorrow morning at the one space I have in my day to pee.

Then a friend called and 'challenged' me. I know it's good, but my goodness I felt horrible afterwards. I wanted to crawl under my bed and cry. Well, I didn't crawl under my bed, but I certainly did cry. They basically challenged me to give up the one thing that destresses me each week. Well, not 'give up'...I think the term was 'replace'.

I don't know if I can do it. Salsa is the one thing I enjoy, that doesn't have emotional rides attached (art) and doesn't cause cancer (fire twirling). I don't drink coffee anymore...(well, like I used to).........I need one little outlet!!!

So Post-Post-Script??

Breaking point.

xxx

My most recent addition to the classroom is a gorgeous little Russian girl with not a word of English. Coincidentily, I did 2 years of Russian at university - so we can *somewhat* communicate and come to some sort of understanding...however she happens to be the only Russian speaker at the school (though we have students from so many different countries - there are generally at least a group from each) and since most students come from Middle Eastern and African countries they have never heard a language quite like it.

She has become a star. They are all intrigued by what she has to say. (Though now Afghani children are running around pulling their scarves closer to their heads and shouting 'Babushka')

During one lesson she was dancing behind me babbling in Russian, and I have to admit I didn't hear much...until a little Sudanese girl came running up to me...
"Miss!!!! MISS! She swore at you! She called you a b*tch" (how kids at 5&6 know these words I don't know)

"Pardon?" I asked the little one in Russian what she said.
"pich"
"SEEEEE!!! She said an 'f-word'!!!"

The poor little thing was asking me for a drink.

xxx

I often go salsa dancing on Friday nights...and as a result I have heard a plethora of latino songs from many different South American countries...however obviously some get played more than others...

...as a result, occasionally I get one stuck in my head. It's a lot harder to sing a song when you don't know Spanish or Portugease however. Still, there's one particular merengue song I *love*...there was only a few words out of it that I could hear clearly enough to sing though...and sung it I have...

...Until a Spanish-speaker advised me that by wandering around singing "béseme" I had been declaring 'kiss me'.

Mental note: seek translation before singing in public.

xxx

To a faithful reader man-enough to leave comments...


xxx

I hate to admit emotions like this - but I'm scared.

Flat out, heart thumping, nauseating, butterfly-jumping scared.

I'm about to drive my mum in for minor heart surgery. Its like a close-up check of what's going on in there...but I can't help but think they shouldn't have to go in there in the first place.

xxx

For the first time there was a ratio of two men for every gal at salsa last night...but that didn't really matter anyway because I was helping the instructor - which meant I didn't have to rotate from partner to partner.

This has good and bad points. It's great because obviously my instructor can lead, and so it helps perfect your moves. Bad because obviously not every man leads like a professional, and sometimes is good to learn how to make room for their mistakes. (Apparently I'm one of the favoured partners because I don't stop mid step when my partner makes a mistake to drop hands and say 'what are you doing??') I mean learn how to recover from a mis-step so that it doesn't look like a mistake.

ANYWAY...we were doing a little routine with a show-dip at the end (one that you probably wouldn't do on the dancefloor unless you knew your partner well as the lead is quite subtle). It basically meant that the girl spins under the mans arm, toward his armpit (scary if you don't know what's happening.....very scary after 2 hours of class...) where he catches her last minute, and throws her into a low dip.

It looks very effective, because it starts with what you expect to be a tangle of arms and suddenly slips into a really graceful move. Anyway, after practicing 16 of these (yes, I counted) the instructor started to check out the technique of the men. I thought I'd duck in the circle and even out the ratio a little....

Boy did I get a shock. Now, I happened to be the tallest girl there, and taller than half of the men (teehee...anyone who knows me would know I'm not tall at all....). The first partner I had was fine, he was a few centimetres taller - a little jerky in his lead but it all fell together. The second one was a centimetre shorter than me - and when my head lodged under his armpit I screamed. Not a way I want to die.

The third partner was a good 10 centimetres shorter. It was here I realised how important height really is when it comes to such moves. Now I know very little about wrestling, but let me say I know a clothesline when I see one....or feel one for that matter! Ouch!

Now I'm very understanding when dancing - if a man makes a mistake, as I said I make room for it - guys have the hardest job not only focusing on their steps but leading also. This particular dancer refuses to be wrong...hands on hips "you go under".

Moi- Pardon?
Him - You need to go under, under!
Moi - You'll need to lift your arm higher, I can't fit under.
Him - No, you go under.

Grrrrrrrr. He did the move again - the arm didn't go up, and again I get an arm to the throat. He tosses my hands away again. "UNDER!" My blood was boiling...

Luckily, the instructor was watching this time. He grabbed my hand, did the move quickly and it was fine. "She doesn't go under" Mr Narky-pants exclaimed. Mr Instructor asked him to show how he does it.

Again, clothesline... "lift your arm a little higher"

Oh look....it works....a little awkward, but I could spin under...I bit my tongue....

So Mr Narky-pants decided he had mastered that one and proceeded to try his own routine...I followed the first three steps and cried out in pain when he tried to snap my arm back from the elbow.
"You're supposed to do a reversed double barrel roll"
I lost my temper.
"That's not the lead for it!"
"yes it is"
"If it was the lead, I would've done it - that was a dislocation"

I think the dance ended there...

xxx

One of my favourite past times is finding unusual or new things. Recently I found a fair bit of spare time to kill (it does happen when one locks their keys inside) and browsed a local market.

There was the usual handicrafts, old toys/clothes/junk, greasy food, overpriced potted cuttings and odds and ends...but the thing that caught my eye was the 'book sale' sign. I love books. Especially old ones...it was here I found a 120 yr old book of poetry, the St John's First Aid Handbook from the 1940s (not much has changed, I might add) as well as a few other beautifully-bound finds.

But the joy didn't end there. My favourite find of the day was a dusty old Spanish candelabra that I managed to bargain down from $20 to $8.

On taking it home, carefully dusting it, painstakingly removing the old beeswax and polishing it up...I feel like I should be dancing around the fire with a sword babbling in Spanish...

...although I don't have a sword...nor do I know enough Spanish to 'babble'...

...but dancing around fire I can do!!

Soy el Gato del fuego!!

xxx

My goodness, what a whirlwind!

In the end, I had to say no to Performance 1 (and 2), and the organisers finally agreed. Unfortunately, I couldn't get my rep to speed up the chemical-distribution process, which meant I would have had to use stinky fuels indoors.

That doesn't sound so bad, but it brings up a wide range of implications. Firstly, the fuels are renowned for being triggers of asthma attacks. I don't think that my public liability insurance would cover that if I was using those particular fuels indoors.

Secondly, because the fuels also tend to be extremely smokey, it would mean that the fire alarm and sprinkler system would have to be disabled, which would then void the buildings cover in the event of an accident.

Both situations may not happen (and this was the first response I had to my concerns) however, I couldn't go through it without it weighing on my conscience. When you deal with fire, all it takes is just once - and the results can be catastrophic (hehe). There is enough safety to worry about when actually performing with the stuff without worrying about asthma and property insurance.

In a way, I'm relieved...because I'm not a fan of big crowds, but likewise I'm also dissapointed, because I'm not a fan of big crowds...It would've been a great oppurtunity to get over stage fright. I still get butterflies when standing in front of 10... I was even a nervous wreck infront of the 3 when doing filming for Coke.

Oh well, that's the end of that...but there is still one oppurtunity - a tentative booking for next week, weather pending. Not holding my breath...

xxx

So time is running out before performance number 1...and I have hit a number of complications. On doing a Risk Assessment, I'm not satisfied, though organisers are keen to go ahead. I've been trying to make it black and white that not only are there a few too many risks, but that because of the nature of a few, if something were to happen, insurance would not cover it.

Not only that, but this is an indoor performance, which means I require a very specific fuel. Unfortunately it has been hard to track down, and since I had uni all day today I haven't had the time to think...

Bottom line...I'm getting stressed, and now my mum is on the Federal list of peoples attempting to purchase chemicals...

xxx