Crushed
(c) Melina Magdalena 2007
To K.L. with best wishes on her 38th birthday next month.
I didn’t want to be with her. I wanted to be her. She fascinated me; from the moment I laid eyes on her. At almost twelve years of age, I had no one to talk to about this. Newly arrived in the small Queensland sugar town, I had no friends, no cousins, no aunts, and no older siblings. I remember the day so clearly.
It was the last weekend before school started for the year. The Girl Guides in that part of the world were active throughout the year, so I went to my first meeting in this new place. The Guide Hall was a long weatherboard building. I think it was painted blue. I walked up the three steps and in through the door to be greeted with the sight of many busy girls, all in uniform, sectioned off into their patrols along each side of the room. Our Guide Leader walked me across the wooden floor to meet my new Patrol Leader. I met her second first, a merry, round-cheeked, frizzy haired girl who became my best friend for the two years we lived there. She tapped S on the shoulder to get her attention.
Thinking back, I can’t figure out how S was already Patrol Leader, because from what I know of the story, she was also new in town. Maybe she had moved up with her family the previous year, and had had some time to establish herself. She looked at me through her glittering brown eyes, down the curve of her arrogant nose, smiled cursorily and set me to work. In that moment, I became hers for the taking.
What must she have seen, when she glanced at me, that tall, willowy girl, a study of brown on brown, with her long, tanned arms and long, tanned legs? What was I? A short, stocky little girl in a Girl Guide uniform, her light brown hair in two preposterous pigtails that stuck out at odd angles over each ear, the aftershock of a haircut several months earlier. I was too shy and nervous to smile. I didn’t make small talk. What eleven year old does?
The rest of my family spent the afternoon house hunting. When my mother came to pick me up, I bubbled and burbled my way to the car, excited about the new best friend I’d made. Her name was S. She was so great. I was going to be so happy there. I got some kind of “That’s nice, dear” response. That’s OK. I understood; there were other things on my mother’s mind.
What does one do, in the grip of sudden infatuation? Within a matter of weeks, I transited from being a happy little girl, to a confused and awkward adolescent. A month or two earlier I had kicked a boy in the balls when he looked up my dress as I played on the monkey bars. I was severely spoken to for that incident, but I didn’t appreciate his interference in my games. It seems while I was preternaturally disposed to intercept and deflect the male gaze, I was sorely unequipped with words to explain my new superpowers.
I had grown breasts and hips over the past eighteen months, and I didn’t like them. I used to wear a tight zipped cardigan to squash my chest, but just before we moved, my mother took me downtown and got me fitted for some proper bras. We referred to them as my unmentionables. I was sure that if I tried hard enough to pretend I was still a little girl, I could make them – and my messy, painful, frightening periods go away.
And now this – what did it mean? I just wanted to be her friend, that’s all.
Maybe I looked at her with too much intensity? Maybe I tried too hard? Maybe I infringed on the boundaries of the friendships she’d already established within the group. She was after all, the undisputed queen bee of the hive. That is not why I was so attracted to her. I liked her elegant brownness, her suave, smooth way of moving through the world. I admired her adeptness at dealing with authority figures, and the ease with which she interacted with her peers. I wanted to be just like her.
Maybe she just didn’t like me. That’s always possible. If she were so remarkable that I would want to be like her, if follows doesn’t it, that there is no way she would aspire to be anything like me!
School started. I drifted through the classes, separated thanks to our untimely arrival in the town, from any of my guiding buddies. High school was hard for that fact alone. At least I had someone I could hang out with during lunch and recess.
The next clear incident that I recall was in November, at my best friend’s birthday party. She lived next to the swamp, which was one of the mangrove areas around the town. The party was not at the swamp, but we giggling girls went for a secret walk to the swamp so that S could meet her boyfriend.
I didn’t really mind that she had a boyfriend, although I didn’t want one. I thought it was stupid really – I stubbornly resisted all those teenage flirtations, knowing instinctively they were somehow not for me. I seem to remember his name as Kermit, though I’m sure it wasn’t. It must have been some Germanic name like Klaus or Kurt or something. S had ostentatiously used a black marker to write his and hers initials on her arm. I know his first name started with ‘k’, because in an insane moment of identification with S, I secretly took up that same black marker and copied the four letters onto my own arm, along with the heart that linked them.
How S mocked me for that unforgivable act. It was her best buddy who revealed my indiscretion to all and sundry. I was shamed, without even being able to adequately explain my actions. It didn’t make sense to anyone, let alone me. I was sullied in their eyes, no longer a known entity, but something dangerous and strange.
I’ve blocked out most of the memories of what happened after that. I managed to avoid Susan during most of that summer, but the next year, school became a nightmare. She contracted glandular fever towards the end of the school year, which was a blessing for me. I remember hearing that she was so weak that her mother had to bath her.
I was not a sophisticated type. Even before the birthday party, I didn’t pursue S, or seek her out, as is common when people are in the grip of infatuation. In this small town, we all knew where each other lived, but I had never been to S’s house. The infatuation had long disappeared, submerged beneath the combined weight of my bewilderment and misery. Now I imagined going to her house, pushing her head under the water and holding it there until the bubbles stopped.
It’s literally at this moment, twenty-five years later that I begin to realize S may have been smarter, or savvier, than I ever gave her credit for. Certainly, she found her target every time with me, and I was so innocent, I had no knowledge or prior warning of what she would aim for next. S seems to have known quite well, what she thought of me – dirty, hairy and perverted.
I once wandered into the change rooms before PE, to discover to my shock, that S and her crowd was already in there. I took another bite of my apple, and nearly choked, as her harpy’s voice berated me for being so dirty that I would eat my lunch in the toilets.
When she started taunting me with the gorilla tag I begged my mother to let me start shaving my legs. I hated the whole process. I didn’t want anything to do with my misbegotten body. One Saturday afternoon I sat in the bath and doggedly dragged the razor with such ragged pressure up my shin that the bathwater turned shockingly red with my blood and I had to shower whilst attempting to staunch the bleeding so that no one would find out. I bore those scars for about fifteen years before they faded – and that was long after I had stopped shaving my legs for good.
A new girl started at the school, and was immediately taken under the shelter of S’s malevolent wings. She still wore her uniform from her previous school. Her dress was far too short, and she would sit on the benches at lunchtimes, rubbing and rubbing the section of her legs between the hem of her dress and her knees. When S gleefully claimed that I had been looking at this girl’s legs, I wasn’t sure why I felt so shamed, but I felt it anyway.
S was merciless in avenging her honour. I had crossed a boundary into a new country where I was to be persecuted for the rest of time. During my childhood, I always had close friendships, and being a naturally studious and motivated learner, I had been popular with nearly all of my teachers. I hadn’t experienced such severe ostracism. I wasn’t brought up to be a pariah. The shock was too much to bear.
I took myself off and tried to find some other friends. Even the gentle, longhaired girls who belonged to some variety of Brethren background could not suffer my presence in their midst. S made sure my reputation caught up with me. So I tried to stay alone at school. This was difficult. I found it was necessary not only to be alone, but also to become invisible. I acquired this skill by virtue of necessity.
I began to have nightmares. There was something dangerous and corrupt in me. My nightmares were all about my need to protect those around me, from my influence. My sister was in particular danger, and I pushed her as far away from me as I dared.
My hitherto best friend was a dear and loyal soul. She weathered my bizarre behaviour and maintained her earnest desire to be my friend, though I did my best not to corrupt her with my presence. From her point of view, I was still welcome to join her and her friends at school, at band, and at Guides, but I could not feel welcome or safe in any place where S was.
So after two years, when we left that town, I tried to leave all of that behind me. My spirit was crushed beneath the weight of my despair. There was something very wrong with me, and there was not a damned thing I could do about it. I could not even name what it was, though the corruption was like a vivid, ugly stain across my face that everyone else could see. I could only stare out of my sullen green eyes in utter incomprehension, and strive to be invisible.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Sunday, October 07, 2007
My Own Private Xenophobia
My Own Private Xenophobia
(c) Melina Magdalena 2007
Xenophobia - a fear of foreigners or strangers
A question for this week - to what extent are my attitudes and prejudices governed by my fear of the strange?
This question can only arise if I subject myself to the same level of scrutiny to which I subject and judge others. It emerges as I wallow in a cloud of grief that envelopes me from time to time, like a cloak lent to me by some friendly stranger to shelter me from the the indifference of those who allow my tears to fall unremarked.
Why a friendly stranger? The tears are mine. My griefs run both deep and wide. Under this cloak I can let them flow in private. I can honour my grief, express my sorrow with no expectation that others will allow me this unimpeded. A friendly stranger indeed. I know no one who suffers other people's tears easily.
Another question - to what extent must 'safe space' be constituted within exclusivity?
This question arises from my intense personal need for safe space, a need which I believe I share with every other human being. But what may be safe for me is not the same as what is safe for others. So to what extent can I reasonably expect that my need be answered?
I first encountered the concept of 'safe space' when as a university student, I was introduced to the Women's Room on my campus. I readily took advantage of this room for study and time out. This was well before I was a wife, a mother, a divorcee or a lesbian. I was intrigued by the idea, and I welcomed this haven. Even though I had no words for verbalising why I felt so refreshed by spending time in the Women's Room, I felt acutely the difference between being in a male dominated sphere and being in a female exclusive sphere. It took me many more years to appreciate the insight, strength and intelligence that must have been required for the women who first set out to carve their own space on campus.
The idea of a Women's Officer was similar. For quite a while I didn't know why I thought it was a good idea for there to be a women's officer in the Student Union, but I was glad that she existed.
Later, I noticed there were new positions, new categories, some of which I could enter, others that excluded me. Suddenly there was an Environment Officer, a Sexuality Officer...
As well, my personal journey of discovery coincided with the merging and transformation on university campuses around Australia of women's rooms, women's departments, women's studies into shared spaces. At the university I attended for example, Women's Studies disappeared into Gender Studies, into Gender and Labour Studies. In other places, Women's Studies was similarly subsumed by something called Queer Studies. These merges have not been popular in all quarters. There are as strong arguments to support the separation of Women's Studies from Queer Studies or Labour Studies, as to support their subsumption.
When I was abused and then separated and then raped I discovered to my chagrin and outrage that there was no safe space on this planet. Not for me. I learned to live with the feeling that danger was ever present.
I imagine this experience is similar to the experience of desensitisation that people go through when they live in a place where there is constant warfare, under the threat that at any moment, they might be blown to pieces, or see someone next to them annihilated in an instant.
I hope it is not perceived as insensitive for me to compare these two human experiences. But if safe space is something which every human being requires; if safe spaces are a human right, than it is important to explore what happens to people when safe spaces are not available.
Because I am a mother of a son and a daughter, lesbian separatism was never something to which I felt I had access. Although on the one hand I felt far freer and safer in the company of only women, there was no way I would abandon my son in the expectation that he would grow up to abuse his position as a white male. With hindsight, I have come to appreciate how lucky I have been to avoid the excesses of separatist attitude.
And again, this insight was not gained without due pain. When I left the mixed company of idealistic patronising misogynist racist peace activists and entered a female-exclusive peace group, it was with an expectation that we would all treat one another as we expected to be treated; that justice, sweetness and light would prevail; that the burden of hard work that was required to mend the world would be a burden shared amongst friends, not a matter for endless contention and the obsessive controlling power of consensus blocking that was the favourite ploy of male peace activists who were afraid of taking action.
How my mighty expectations were brought low is already a matter of public record. It's my naivete that makes me cringe to remember it these days. And yet - the promise was there, the possibility still hovers endlessly on the horizon - it is power that corrupts and shatters love and goodwill and courage and perverts them into the same old same old patterns of exclusion and victimisation time and time again, whatever the gender of those who seek to use their positions of power and control others.
My next foray was when I took on the mantle of Reform Judaism. Here is my home, I thought! Here I can be myself, I can explore my heritage, I can mend the torn shreds of my secret longings to reconnect with my past and paint a colourful, positive picture for my children of what it means to be Jewish in the world today.
The synagogue didn't approve of me or my children. I lacked both the funds and the chutzpah to convince them of our worth. I tried to give in kind, but got rejection after rejection in return. This was no safe space for me, or my children.
I went to a LesFest soon after I came out as a lesbian. At last! Safe space! Women's only space! But what on earth is a woman born woman? It took a few years for me to understand what this meant.
Perhaps I'm a slow learner? Perhaps it's my natural optimism that prevents the cynicism that would pop up like those annoying balloons on my monitor to ensure I didn't stray from the stoic path of realism. I don't suppose I've ever lived in anyone else's "real world". Mine must be very different from the norm.
On the other hand, lesbian space has come to be very special to me. The world I inhabit in my everyday allows me to be myself so long as I stick to the paths and keep off the grass. Within reason, I can be surprising. I can speak out. I can come out sometimes, and expose myself as a lesbian. I prefer to pretend that I am out, when in fact most of the time no one questions my sexual identity. And that can be quite convenient. It feels almost safe, in a funny kind of way.
My days are spent in this heteronormative world, where I live a kind of half-life. Although I do not feel constricted or confined to the closet, nor am I free to relate to most of the other women in my world, and certainly NOT to any of the men, in any way except as an apparent heterosexual.
This is familiar to me. I have adapted to living in this way. It begins to burden me only when I have no respite. No lesbian safe space. No lesbian company.
And this is where the question of my own private xenophobia begins to play out.
As a woman, what must I do to find women's only space some of the time?
As a lesbian, what must I do to find lesbian only space - just occasionally?
Is there something wrong with me that I define lesbian safe space as a space where lesbians are free to gather and socialise where we do not have to suffer the endless gaze of heterosexual men?
This week I sought lesbian only space at a public restaurant. It was Adelaide's monthly lesbian dinner, at a gay-friendly restaurant, on the first Friday of the month. This has been a long-running event in a city which boasts very few regular public lesbian get-togethers.
Yes! This dinner was at a public restuarant.
No! We have no rights over who dines at this restaurant on any particular night.
Yes! Restaurant management reserves the right to open its doors to whomever it pleases, in order to turn a profit.
For me, it has become an unfriendly, unwelcoming place to be. On this occasion, as well as the lesbians, there were two other groups there. One was a group of men who were attending a men's health conference. Interestingly, they did not impinge on lesbian space. The second group was a mixed bunch of people who are into BDSM.
Perhaps this is where my xenophobia and prejudices kick in? I freely admit - BDSM does not attract or interest me in the slightest. In fact, I find the idea repugnant. I'm not interested in being converted.
It was my observation that this group of people used the restaurant space to their full advantage with no consideration for the needs of anyone else in the restaurant that evening. We lesbians were relegated to a few tables into which we were packed like sardines, trying earnestly to communicate and socialise as though the BDSM men and women were not loudly and rudely flaunting their presence and impinging on our space.
Their arrogance was all the more profound because it felt as though there were a quality that they were enjoying it all the more because they were opressing a weaker group and getting off on this fact, rather than it simply being a quality of relief and refreshment to be gathering for once, in a BDSM safe space.
Which brings me back to the question of exclusivity. It seems that for me, safe space is constituted equally by what is not there, as what is present. In order for me to feel safe, something must be lacking.
My impulse is to reject the possibility of finding safe space at Out4Tea anymore, since the first Friday of every month is now marked not only by the lesbian dinner at Caos Cafe, but the BDSM dinner in the same small space.
There are probably places where we would like to all be weirdos together, safe and free and happy in the fact that we are different from the mainstream, but just because we are two facets of queer does not mean we all get along like one big happy family, even if we ought to. Just because neither group is heteronormative is not enough of a bond to make all of us feel safe in the presence of one another.
Perhaps it is my xenophobia that prevents my embracing the presence of queerness in all its forms as constituting safe space for me? How can I own this fact, without being blamed for it? Am I automatically at fault because of my attitude?
(c) Melina Magdalena 2007
Xenophobia - a fear of foreigners or strangers
A question for this week - to what extent are my attitudes and prejudices governed by my fear of the strange?
This question can only arise if I subject myself to the same level of scrutiny to which I subject and judge others. It emerges as I wallow in a cloud of grief that envelopes me from time to time, like a cloak lent to me by some friendly stranger to shelter me from the the indifference of those who allow my tears to fall unremarked.
Why a friendly stranger? The tears are mine. My griefs run both deep and wide. Under this cloak I can let them flow in private. I can honour my grief, express my sorrow with no expectation that others will allow me this unimpeded. A friendly stranger indeed. I know no one who suffers other people's tears easily.
Another question - to what extent must 'safe space' be constituted within exclusivity?
This question arises from my intense personal need for safe space, a need which I believe I share with every other human being. But what may be safe for me is not the same as what is safe for others. So to what extent can I reasonably expect that my need be answered?
I first encountered the concept of 'safe space' when as a university student, I was introduced to the Women's Room on my campus. I readily took advantage of this room for study and time out. This was well before I was a wife, a mother, a divorcee or a lesbian. I was intrigued by the idea, and I welcomed this haven. Even though I had no words for verbalising why I felt so refreshed by spending time in the Women's Room, I felt acutely the difference between being in a male dominated sphere and being in a female exclusive sphere. It took me many more years to appreciate the insight, strength and intelligence that must have been required for the women who first set out to carve their own space on campus.
The idea of a Women's Officer was similar. For quite a while I didn't know why I thought it was a good idea for there to be a women's officer in the Student Union, but I was glad that she existed.
Later, I noticed there were new positions, new categories, some of which I could enter, others that excluded me. Suddenly there was an Environment Officer, a Sexuality Officer...
As well, my personal journey of discovery coincided with the merging and transformation on university campuses around Australia of women's rooms, women's departments, women's studies into shared spaces. At the university I attended for example, Women's Studies disappeared into Gender Studies, into Gender and Labour Studies. In other places, Women's Studies was similarly subsumed by something called Queer Studies. These merges have not been popular in all quarters. There are as strong arguments to support the separation of Women's Studies from Queer Studies or Labour Studies, as to support their subsumption.
When I was abused and then separated and then raped I discovered to my chagrin and outrage that there was no safe space on this planet. Not for me. I learned to live with the feeling that danger was ever present.
I imagine this experience is similar to the experience of desensitisation that people go through when they live in a place where there is constant warfare, under the threat that at any moment, they might be blown to pieces, or see someone next to them annihilated in an instant.
I hope it is not perceived as insensitive for me to compare these two human experiences. But if safe space is something which every human being requires; if safe spaces are a human right, than it is important to explore what happens to people when safe spaces are not available.
Because I am a mother of a son and a daughter, lesbian separatism was never something to which I felt I had access. Although on the one hand I felt far freer and safer in the company of only women, there was no way I would abandon my son in the expectation that he would grow up to abuse his position as a white male. With hindsight, I have come to appreciate how lucky I have been to avoid the excesses of separatist attitude.
And again, this insight was not gained without due pain. When I left the mixed company of idealistic patronising misogynist racist peace activists and entered a female-exclusive peace group, it was with an expectation that we would all treat one another as we expected to be treated; that justice, sweetness and light would prevail; that the burden of hard work that was required to mend the world would be a burden shared amongst friends, not a matter for endless contention and the obsessive controlling power of consensus blocking that was the favourite ploy of male peace activists who were afraid of taking action.
How my mighty expectations were brought low is already a matter of public record. It's my naivete that makes me cringe to remember it these days. And yet - the promise was there, the possibility still hovers endlessly on the horizon - it is power that corrupts and shatters love and goodwill and courage and perverts them into the same old same old patterns of exclusion and victimisation time and time again, whatever the gender of those who seek to use their positions of power and control others.
My next foray was when I took on the mantle of Reform Judaism. Here is my home, I thought! Here I can be myself, I can explore my heritage, I can mend the torn shreds of my secret longings to reconnect with my past and paint a colourful, positive picture for my children of what it means to be Jewish in the world today.
The synagogue didn't approve of me or my children. I lacked both the funds and the chutzpah to convince them of our worth. I tried to give in kind, but got rejection after rejection in return. This was no safe space for me, or my children.
I went to a LesFest soon after I came out as a lesbian. At last! Safe space! Women's only space! But what on earth is a woman born woman? It took a few years for me to understand what this meant.
Perhaps I'm a slow learner? Perhaps it's my natural optimism that prevents the cynicism that would pop up like those annoying balloons on my monitor to ensure I didn't stray from the stoic path of realism. I don't suppose I've ever lived in anyone else's "real world". Mine must be very different from the norm.
On the other hand, lesbian space has come to be very special to me. The world I inhabit in my everyday allows me to be myself so long as I stick to the paths and keep off the grass. Within reason, I can be surprising. I can speak out. I can come out sometimes, and expose myself as a lesbian. I prefer to pretend that I am out, when in fact most of the time no one questions my sexual identity. And that can be quite convenient. It feels almost safe, in a funny kind of way.
My days are spent in this heteronormative world, where I live a kind of half-life. Although I do not feel constricted or confined to the closet, nor am I free to relate to most of the other women in my world, and certainly NOT to any of the men, in any way except as an apparent heterosexual.
This is familiar to me. I have adapted to living in this way. It begins to burden me only when I have no respite. No lesbian safe space. No lesbian company.
And this is where the question of my own private xenophobia begins to play out.
As a woman, what must I do to find women's only space some of the time?
As a lesbian, what must I do to find lesbian only space - just occasionally?
Is there something wrong with me that I define lesbian safe space as a space where lesbians are free to gather and socialise where we do not have to suffer the endless gaze of heterosexual men?
This week I sought lesbian only space at a public restaurant. It was Adelaide's monthly lesbian dinner, at a gay-friendly restaurant, on the first Friday of the month. This has been a long-running event in a city which boasts very few regular public lesbian get-togethers.
Yes! This dinner was at a public restuarant.
No! We have no rights over who dines at this restaurant on any particular night.
Yes! Restaurant management reserves the right to open its doors to whomever it pleases, in order to turn a profit.
For me, it has become an unfriendly, unwelcoming place to be. On this occasion, as well as the lesbians, there were two other groups there. One was a group of men who were attending a men's health conference. Interestingly, they did not impinge on lesbian space. The second group was a mixed bunch of people who are into BDSM.
Perhaps this is where my xenophobia and prejudices kick in? I freely admit - BDSM does not attract or interest me in the slightest. In fact, I find the idea repugnant. I'm not interested in being converted.
It was my observation that this group of people used the restaurant space to their full advantage with no consideration for the needs of anyone else in the restaurant that evening. We lesbians were relegated to a few tables into which we were packed like sardines, trying earnestly to communicate and socialise as though the BDSM men and women were not loudly and rudely flaunting their presence and impinging on our space.
Their arrogance was all the more profound because it felt as though there were a quality that they were enjoying it all the more because they were opressing a weaker group and getting off on this fact, rather than it simply being a quality of relief and refreshment to be gathering for once, in a BDSM safe space.
Which brings me back to the question of exclusivity. It seems that for me, safe space is constituted equally by what is not there, as what is present. In order for me to feel safe, something must be lacking.
My impulse is to reject the possibility of finding safe space at Out4Tea anymore, since the first Friday of every month is now marked not only by the lesbian dinner at Caos Cafe, but the BDSM dinner in the same small space.
There are probably places where we would like to all be weirdos together, safe and free and happy in the fact that we are different from the mainstream, but just because we are two facets of queer does not mean we all get along like one big happy family, even if we ought to. Just because neither group is heteronormative is not enough of a bond to make all of us feel safe in the presence of one another.
Perhaps it is my xenophobia that prevents my embracing the presence of queerness in all its forms as constituting safe space for me? How can I own this fact, without being blamed for it? Am I automatically at fault because of my attitude?
Friday, September 28, 2007
The truth, and nothing but the truth…
The truth, and nothing but the truth…
(c) Melina Magdalena (2007)
Are these two things unrelated?
a) Yahoo! News today includes Why Women Worry So Much which posits a more developed mind connection in females than males, between the past and future. These connections, far from being useless stressors by overemotional, hysterical females, provide a basis for reasoned arguments and decision-making. As Andrea Thompson writes, “This skill, in its simplest form, is critical to social understanding as it is important to making decisions and assessing risk.”
b) Wikipedia’s article about "Truth" is unrelentingly male. Not one woman’s voice is quoted in this article, though women wrote some of the references (diligently doing their research on men’s ideas). Two of the three images on this page portray “Truth” as a naked woman – one being rescued by “Time”, as he vanquishes “Falsehood” and “Envy” (both male?) and the other (naturally the work of another male artist) portrays Truth as a naked white woman with long, dark hair, who holds a shining orb of light. Interestingly, the light is neither a long and pointed flame, nor a beacon, but a glowing sphere.
You tell me! Can you see a connection here?
In my experience, it is not possible to be on the ‘right’ side of the Law. The Law has no ‘right’ and ‘wrong’ side – it is merely an instrument for establishing and maintaining a system of decision-making, which is based on layer upon layer of previous decisions. Those who are touched by the Law, even when they firmly believe that ‘right’ is on their side, usually end up burned, along with their treasured version of Truth, which has been maimed beyond recognition.
There is very little transparency in Law. Those who practice the Art of Law are hard-pressed to explain its ins and outs to those whom they represent. The best example of this fact is the unwillingness of lawyers to be able to say which way any case is likely to go. Both sides enter the game with the possibility of emerging the victor. Where is the justice in this?
My interactions with lawyers, judges and barristers have been overwhelmingly frustrating. There are never any clear answers. Advice is invariably couched in terms of perhaps and could be. This has the effect of making me feel that there are prevarications on every side. Like a character in a Kafkaesque story, the unwitting victim has no recourse.
There is no easy way out, once the process has begun. Those who fight their way out are blamed for failing to show proper respect to the Law, and end up with egg on their faces. Look at those survivors of Family Violence who steadfastly refuse to press charges against their abusers on the basis that having to go through the police and court system will be more painful and achieve a less satisfactory outcome, than continuing to survive the abuse. Especially once they’ve already been exposed to such risks, women can be very skilled at perceiving and avoiding further risk of pain, exposure and humiliation.
When we refer to arbiters of the law as sleazy, untrustworthy crooks, it is because of the contradiction between the message we are given, that Law is pure, logical and just, and our experience of Law, which is mystifying, illogical, painful, humiliating and unfair. In my experience, Law has no transparency and very little logic.
It’s not fair to lawyers, that laypeople complain and abuse them, and hold lawyers and politicians to blame for all of the ills of the world, but nor is there much fairness in the Law. Such accusations should not be taken personally.
The Law, you see, is played at by Experts. These Experts may be familiar with the strange fire they encounter, but the layperson very often doesn’t, as those who become tangled in Law discover, to their great cost. The layperson’s objections to the great monetary cost of legal battles are justified. What is the price of a life?
Monopoly is the board game most akin to legal battles, in which vast sums of meaningless cash are handed from one player to another, without there being much fairness or justice involved in the transactions. It all comes down to the roll of the dice. Once the Experts have creamed off their portion of the spoils, there’s sometimes not much left for the person to whom these sums of money were awarded.
And who really believes that money can repair, undo or make good the damage done to people? I am as guilty as the next person, in believing that having more money will make me happier and more comfortable, but I don’t have to dig very deep to find an inner voice that tells me I will always, no matter how well off I am, have something to struggle with, and that wrestling with those demons is what life is really all about.
Those who enter the world of Law do so at risk of their privacy and wellbeing. Few emerge unscathed, even if their cases do not get sucked into the maelstrom of sensational news reporting. In fact, journalists usually ignore those whose stories ought to be told, but that’s another story.
Things happen. They are rarely planned. Causality is most often a product of hindsight. Those who find comfort and happiness in seeing the connections, and those who are skilled in choosing their path may find their path is smoother than those whose dispositions lead them to grumble and complain and always believe the worst of any situation. But even an optimist can be thrown for a six at the worst of times, and find herself struggling for her next breath.
Or is that an unbearably facile proposition? Is it inane? Am I insane? Allow me to try just once again.
If Truth is a shining orb of light – not the harsh, damaging, life-giving sunlight, but rather the gentle, silvery glow of moonlight – then surely we must be equally preoccupied by what is hidden, as what is exposed? Perhaps it is a happy accident that Men have chosen to represent Women as the bearers of Truth?
In this simplistic dichotomous world, Women are often seen as those who seek to make connections, to see causality, to predict the future in ways that are renowned for mystifying and frustrating the Men who just can’t keep up with our brilliant leaps of logic.
Add the Male versus Female Power quotient into the brew, and attempt to discern Truth, and it is as clear as the proverbial mud. This is a sick, sad world and that’s the truth.
Come on Women – you know the answer to my next question even before I go so far as to ask it:
What is most often, the product of frustration?
Anger, of course! Accompanied by violent outbursts!
Many are the foul crimes that are committed in blind rage as a product of humiliation. It is a perverse situation when such crimes in turn are the direct product of a lack of humility in those who commit them. Those who take themselves too seriously expect others to do the same. Though they appear unpredictable and occur unpredicted, such acts of violence horrify, terrify and suppress resistance. Such crimes compound and multiply, all in the name of truth and justice and logic and causality, although these are in fact rarely acknowledged.
I’d better watch out now, lest I be accused of inciting male violence as inflicted upon females who are just too smart to know any better.
Perhaps you’ve heard the sentencing arguments before. Perhaps it’s because their uncle abused them, or because of how their mothers brought them up? People find it easier to believe that criminals and those who start wars are tragically flawed in some way, than to believe that they are no better and no worse than any of us, and that they make considered, though horrifying and greedy choices to harm others for their own personal gain.
Of course you’re entitled use Law to pursue damages. You believe Right is on your side. You believe Law is based upon Truth and Justice. Your lawyers will guide you through the labyrinth, but they won’t explain, illuminate or enlighten you of the outcome. They can’t, because they have no prior knowledge of the outcome. Some things, such as media attention, simply can’t be predicted.
Enter at your own risk. Maybe you will get satisfaction from playing the game? But beware! If you play the victim when you find you have jumped out of the frying pan that was your life, and into the strange fire that is Law, you may be hard-pressed to find sympathy. Perhaps it’s human nature to blame people for their own misfortunes. Who ever said that life would be easy, or that the Law would treat you fairly?
I rest my case.
(c) Melina Magdalena (2007)
Are these two things unrelated?
a) Yahoo! News today includes Why Women Worry So Much which posits a more developed mind connection in females than males, between the past and future. These connections, far from being useless stressors by overemotional, hysterical females, provide a basis for reasoned arguments and decision-making. As Andrea Thompson writes, “This skill, in its simplest form, is critical to social understanding as it is important to making decisions and assessing risk.”
b) Wikipedia’s article about "Truth" is unrelentingly male. Not one woman’s voice is quoted in this article, though women wrote some of the references (diligently doing their research on men’s ideas). Two of the three images on this page portray “Truth” as a naked woman – one being rescued by “Time”, as he vanquishes “Falsehood” and “Envy” (both male?) and the other (naturally the work of another male artist) portrays Truth as a naked white woman with long, dark hair, who holds a shining orb of light. Interestingly, the light is neither a long and pointed flame, nor a beacon, but a glowing sphere.
You tell me! Can you see a connection here?
In my experience, it is not possible to be on the ‘right’ side of the Law. The Law has no ‘right’ and ‘wrong’ side – it is merely an instrument for establishing and maintaining a system of decision-making, which is based on layer upon layer of previous decisions. Those who are touched by the Law, even when they firmly believe that ‘right’ is on their side, usually end up burned, along with their treasured version of Truth, which has been maimed beyond recognition.
There is very little transparency in Law. Those who practice the Art of Law are hard-pressed to explain its ins and outs to those whom they represent. The best example of this fact is the unwillingness of lawyers to be able to say which way any case is likely to go. Both sides enter the game with the possibility of emerging the victor. Where is the justice in this?
My interactions with lawyers, judges and barristers have been overwhelmingly frustrating. There are never any clear answers. Advice is invariably couched in terms of perhaps and could be. This has the effect of making me feel that there are prevarications on every side. Like a character in a Kafkaesque story, the unwitting victim has no recourse.
There is no easy way out, once the process has begun. Those who fight their way out are blamed for failing to show proper respect to the Law, and end up with egg on their faces. Look at those survivors of Family Violence who steadfastly refuse to press charges against their abusers on the basis that having to go through the police and court system will be more painful and achieve a less satisfactory outcome, than continuing to survive the abuse. Especially once they’ve already been exposed to such risks, women can be very skilled at perceiving and avoiding further risk of pain, exposure and humiliation.
When we refer to arbiters of the law as sleazy, untrustworthy crooks, it is because of the contradiction between the message we are given, that Law is pure, logical and just, and our experience of Law, which is mystifying, illogical, painful, humiliating and unfair. In my experience, Law has no transparency and very little logic.
It’s not fair to lawyers, that laypeople complain and abuse them, and hold lawyers and politicians to blame for all of the ills of the world, but nor is there much fairness in the Law. Such accusations should not be taken personally.
The Law, you see, is played at by Experts. These Experts may be familiar with the strange fire they encounter, but the layperson very often doesn’t, as those who become tangled in Law discover, to their great cost. The layperson’s objections to the great monetary cost of legal battles are justified. What is the price of a life?
Monopoly is the board game most akin to legal battles, in which vast sums of meaningless cash are handed from one player to another, without there being much fairness or justice involved in the transactions. It all comes down to the roll of the dice. Once the Experts have creamed off their portion of the spoils, there’s sometimes not much left for the person to whom these sums of money were awarded.
And who really believes that money can repair, undo or make good the damage done to people? I am as guilty as the next person, in believing that having more money will make me happier and more comfortable, but I don’t have to dig very deep to find an inner voice that tells me I will always, no matter how well off I am, have something to struggle with, and that wrestling with those demons is what life is really all about.
Those who enter the world of Law do so at risk of their privacy and wellbeing. Few emerge unscathed, even if their cases do not get sucked into the maelstrom of sensational news reporting. In fact, journalists usually ignore those whose stories ought to be told, but that’s another story.
Things happen. They are rarely planned. Causality is most often a product of hindsight. Those who find comfort and happiness in seeing the connections, and those who are skilled in choosing their path may find their path is smoother than those whose dispositions lead them to grumble and complain and always believe the worst of any situation. But even an optimist can be thrown for a six at the worst of times, and find herself struggling for her next breath.
Or is that an unbearably facile proposition? Is it inane? Am I insane? Allow me to try just once again.
If Truth is a shining orb of light – not the harsh, damaging, life-giving sunlight, but rather the gentle, silvery glow of moonlight – then surely we must be equally preoccupied by what is hidden, as what is exposed? Perhaps it is a happy accident that Men have chosen to represent Women as the bearers of Truth?
In this simplistic dichotomous world, Women are often seen as those who seek to make connections, to see causality, to predict the future in ways that are renowned for mystifying and frustrating the Men who just can’t keep up with our brilliant leaps of logic.
Add the Male versus Female Power quotient into the brew, and attempt to discern Truth, and it is as clear as the proverbial mud. This is a sick, sad world and that’s the truth.
Come on Women – you know the answer to my next question even before I go so far as to ask it:
What is most often, the product of frustration?
Anger, of course! Accompanied by violent outbursts!
Many are the foul crimes that are committed in blind rage as a product of humiliation. It is a perverse situation when such crimes in turn are the direct product of a lack of humility in those who commit them. Those who take themselves too seriously expect others to do the same. Though they appear unpredictable and occur unpredicted, such acts of violence horrify, terrify and suppress resistance. Such crimes compound and multiply, all in the name of truth and justice and logic and causality, although these are in fact rarely acknowledged.
I’d better watch out now, lest I be accused of inciting male violence as inflicted upon females who are just too smart to know any better.
Perhaps you’ve heard the sentencing arguments before. Perhaps it’s because their uncle abused them, or because of how their mothers brought them up? People find it easier to believe that criminals and those who start wars are tragically flawed in some way, than to believe that they are no better and no worse than any of us, and that they make considered, though horrifying and greedy choices to harm others for their own personal gain.
Of course you’re entitled use Law to pursue damages. You believe Right is on your side. You believe Law is based upon Truth and Justice. Your lawyers will guide you through the labyrinth, but they won’t explain, illuminate or enlighten you of the outcome. They can’t, because they have no prior knowledge of the outcome. Some things, such as media attention, simply can’t be predicted.
Enter at your own risk. Maybe you will get satisfaction from playing the game? But beware! If you play the victim when you find you have jumped out of the frying pan that was your life, and into the strange fire that is Law, you may be hard-pressed to find sympathy. Perhaps it’s human nature to blame people for their own misfortunes. Who ever said that life would be easy, or that the Law would treat you fairly?
I rest my case.
Friday, September 21, 2007
Begging Your Pardon
Begging Your Pardon
(c) Melina Magdalena 2007
Today is Yom Kippur, the most solemn day in the Jewish calendar. On this day, Jews fast from sunset to sunrise, pray, meditate and seek forgiveness. We seek forgiveness from those we harmed intentionally, and from those whom we harmed without meaning to, and without knowing that we did so until after the fact. We seek forgiveness from those we love, as well as those we despise. Jews do not require or demand of G-d that we be forgiven. We have no right to do this. On Yom Kippur we stand before the Book of Life as humble human beings, capable of great good and terrible evil, and await judgment. It is not for G-d to forgive us our wrongdoings against other human beings. G-d can only forgive our wrongdoings against G-d.
Forgiveness can be given, but not bought. Forgiving oneself is as important as being forgiven by someone else. The important element is the acknowledgment of pain, the acceptance of one's responsibility for causing this pain, and the wish to undo that pain, however impossible it is, to rewind the videotape of life and start the segment over.
For me, I wonder when I will have time to be a good Jew. Last night, I lay in bed and thought about fasting. I planned to spend today in penitence and meditation. I considered those people to whom I would like to make my amends. There are several. But this morning, I got up and showered; watered my garden, put the kettle on, and ate some almonds along with my daily regime of vitamins. Everything I put in my mouth has stuck in my throat.
I finished Harry Potter's Deathly Hallows this morning, for the second time. I was deeply moved again, at arriving at the conclusion of this epic. The end of course, marks the beginning of Harry Potter's life - a life now not determined by the evil intentions of somebody else... a life in which he is free to be a humble human being, albeit a magical one...
Dictionaries distinguish "pardon" and "forgiveness" with reference to punishment. One who is "pardoned" is excused from being punished for one's wrongdoings. I believe the quality of "being forgiven" is different. In order to seek forgivness, one accepts the punishment that is part and parcel of the outcome of wrongdoing.
Some people are like House Elves. They seek out punishment because of their acute awareness of their inability to avoid wrongdoing, no matter how hard they try. Such people punish themselves. This can be separate from their seeking forgiveness from those whom they have wronged. When they are warped, they begin to enjoy their self-inflicted punishments, because this is all they know.
Some people are more like Lord Voldemort. They deny that there is any "wrong" in their evildoings, and when pushed to acknowledge the dire consequences of their actions, they make excuses, still avoiding culpability.
There are people who are unaware of their wrongdoings. Like the "simple son" of the Passover Service, these people are not necessarily in denial. They are not perfect people - their oblivion does not make them angels, but their lack of self-awareness makes them slippery characters on whom it is difficult to pin any specific wrongdoings. For those of us who are vulnerable to taking full responsibility for the actions of others, because our self-doubt and self-hatred drives us to seek punishment wherever it may be found, it is easy to blame oneself for hurting the Oblivious, rather than acknowledging the pain that one has suffered through the indifferent and often callous behaviour of the Oblivious.
I can be a smug, self-righteous bitch sometimes, and I know it. I can be blinded to everything, except my own pain. In flailing around not only do I fail to notice the compassion extended towards me by others, but I inflict further pain upon those who would come to my assistance.
I am sorry.
I can be inspired by my own good intentions sometimes, to the detriment of those whome I seek to rescue and assist. My pushiness and busyness means I fail in the tests of compassion and disable, rather than enable those whom I would help and support.
I am sorry.
My egocentricity often makes me the centre of my own universe, believing that everything revolves around me, and that I have the power to determine what will happen next. This hubris removes me from the reality that is me as one small speck of consciousness, floating in space, seeking to grow and learn. This deceit inverts my intention and my experience, so that I am unable to truly connect with those around me, even those I love.
I am sorry.
To all of those whom I have hurt and harmed, whether intentionally or unintentionally, I am sorry. I acknowledge that I have hurt you through my egotism, my own suffering, my own pain and anger, and my own need for recognition. I take full responsibility for my actions and my inactions; for speaking out when I should have remained silent, and for not speaking when words of strength, courage and compassion were required. I am sorry for my failings. I am sorry for being too busy and preoccupied to see what I could do in situations where I left you in need. Please forgive me.
(c) Melina Magdalena 2007
Today is Yom Kippur, the most solemn day in the Jewish calendar. On this day, Jews fast from sunset to sunrise, pray, meditate and seek forgiveness. We seek forgiveness from those we harmed intentionally, and from those whom we harmed without meaning to, and without knowing that we did so until after the fact. We seek forgiveness from those we love, as well as those we despise. Jews do not require or demand of G-d that we be forgiven. We have no right to do this. On Yom Kippur we stand before the Book of Life as humble human beings, capable of great good and terrible evil, and await judgment. It is not for G-d to forgive us our wrongdoings against other human beings. G-d can only forgive our wrongdoings against G-d.
Forgiveness can be given, but not bought. Forgiving oneself is as important as being forgiven by someone else. The important element is the acknowledgment of pain, the acceptance of one's responsibility for causing this pain, and the wish to undo that pain, however impossible it is, to rewind the videotape of life and start the segment over.
For me, I wonder when I will have time to be a good Jew. Last night, I lay in bed and thought about fasting. I planned to spend today in penitence and meditation. I considered those people to whom I would like to make my amends. There are several. But this morning, I got up and showered; watered my garden, put the kettle on, and ate some almonds along with my daily regime of vitamins. Everything I put in my mouth has stuck in my throat.
I finished Harry Potter's Deathly Hallows this morning, for the second time. I was deeply moved again, at arriving at the conclusion of this epic. The end of course, marks the beginning of Harry Potter's life - a life now not determined by the evil intentions of somebody else... a life in which he is free to be a humble human being, albeit a magical one...
Dictionaries distinguish "pardon" and "forgiveness" with reference to punishment. One who is "pardoned" is excused from being punished for one's wrongdoings. I believe the quality of "being forgiven" is different. In order to seek forgivness, one accepts the punishment that is part and parcel of the outcome of wrongdoing.
Some people are like House Elves. They seek out punishment because of their acute awareness of their inability to avoid wrongdoing, no matter how hard they try. Such people punish themselves. This can be separate from their seeking forgiveness from those whom they have wronged. When they are warped, they begin to enjoy their self-inflicted punishments, because this is all they know.
Some people are more like Lord Voldemort. They deny that there is any "wrong" in their evildoings, and when pushed to acknowledge the dire consequences of their actions, they make excuses, still avoiding culpability.
There are people who are unaware of their wrongdoings. Like the "simple son" of the Passover Service, these people are not necessarily in denial. They are not perfect people - their oblivion does not make them angels, but their lack of self-awareness makes them slippery characters on whom it is difficult to pin any specific wrongdoings. For those of us who are vulnerable to taking full responsibility for the actions of others, because our self-doubt and self-hatred drives us to seek punishment wherever it may be found, it is easy to blame oneself for hurting the Oblivious, rather than acknowledging the pain that one has suffered through the indifferent and often callous behaviour of the Oblivious.
I can be a smug, self-righteous bitch sometimes, and I know it. I can be blinded to everything, except my own pain. In flailing around not only do I fail to notice the compassion extended towards me by others, but I inflict further pain upon those who would come to my assistance.
I am sorry.
I can be inspired by my own good intentions sometimes, to the detriment of those whome I seek to rescue and assist. My pushiness and busyness means I fail in the tests of compassion and disable, rather than enable those whom I would help and support.
I am sorry.
My egocentricity often makes me the centre of my own universe, believing that everything revolves around me, and that I have the power to determine what will happen next. This hubris removes me from the reality that is me as one small speck of consciousness, floating in space, seeking to grow and learn. This deceit inverts my intention and my experience, so that I am unable to truly connect with those around me, even those I love.
I am sorry.
To all of those whom I have hurt and harmed, whether intentionally or unintentionally, I am sorry. I acknowledge that I have hurt you through my egotism, my own suffering, my own pain and anger, and my own need for recognition. I take full responsibility for my actions and my inactions; for speaking out when I should have remained silent, and for not speaking when words of strength, courage and compassion were required. I am sorry for my failings. I am sorry for being too busy and preoccupied to see what I could do in situations where I left you in need. Please forgive me.
Saturday, September 15, 2007
One of the Faceless Majority
One of the Faceless Majority
(c) Melina Magdalena 2007
Two weird things happened to me at school this week that made me reassess my ideas of cultural identity and my place in the world.
The first thing, was the reaction of several students in my class when we went into the Library's Seminar Room for our reading lesson. A number of new books had been pinned to the noticeboard in the hopes of attracting favourable attention from said students.
"Miss!" One young woman's hand shot up (she's one of the brightest sparkles in the group), "Is that book about you? Is that you in the picture?"
"Er, no..." I replied, looking around to see what she was referring to, "That's a book about Princess Diana."
And sure enough, as the rest of the students dribbled through the door, two others made very similar comments.
Now I know my younger brother bears a distinct resemblance to Prince William - this has been an oft-remarked fact during the course of his life, much to his chagrin. And indeed, our Germanic family colouring and build (apart from the fact that I am height-challenged) is very British Royal. We are not the weedy, pale English flowers, but the rosy-cheeked, hearty German peasant types.
But still - no one has ever mistaken me for Princess Diana before. And I'm not sure whether to be disturbed or flattered!
On the same day, after school, I was standing at the Reception Desk, sorting out some paperwork for next week, when one of the school's BSSOs (Bilingual Support School Officer) came up and congratulated me for winning a permanent teaching position at the school.
"Er, no..." said I, "It's not me. I didn't even apply!"
Oh my, was she embarrassed. Seems she had mistaken me for one of the other teachers. Now again - I'm not sure whether to be disturbed of flattered! The other teacher is also a lesbian; neither of us wear a hijab; we both have short, dark hair - hers is curly. Neither of us wear glasses, and I've never seen the other teacher in anything but trousers, which is the same for me.
I've grown to enjoy the plaintive questions from children - always around the age of 4-6, who wail "Mummy, is that a man or a woman?" As if the large breasts on my chest were not a dead giveaway. I really don't look very masculine, I think?
Anyway, I've been lucky enough to grow up in a multicultural, multiracial society and family. I can hardly imagine what it would be like to have to relearn to read faces and identities if I'd grown up in a homogenous place, where everyone was more or less the same eye, skin and hair colour and where the differences in facial features, build and posture were far more subtle.
It's not as if I'm a know-it-all, and I'm learning new things every minute I'm in the classroom with these students. The subtlety of an eye-brow lift, for example, to indicate assent and understanding, versus the looking down and refusal to meet the teacher's gaze, to indicate compliance and respect.
This week, another teacher revealed to me that when some Sudanese people look away over their shoulders after being offered food or drink, this is not embarrassment or shyness, this indicates their having been gravely insulted.
As if!
As if, they were not able to supply their own needs! As if they were dependent upon the charity and goodwill of others, for their survival. They are a proud people - and this turned my naiive notions of the universal value of hospitality right upon its head.
There are people who nod their heads and make pleasant noises, just in order not to show disagreement, so vital is it in their communities, to present a united front. Occasionally I play games with the Asian students in my class, where I try to force them to reveal their true opinions. So far, I think I've lost out at every attempt.
People watching is one of my all time favourite activities. I watch people, examine their faces and body language, and make up stories about them. I observe their interactions, and when I see family groups, I like to compare features and see the interplay of genetic inheritance. I find this utterly fascinating.
In the playground of a school whose population is mostly new arrivals to Australia, I get the opportunity to look at a myriad of faces every day. There are some groups whose faces are scarred - one group, as ritual scarification and the other group pitted and torn by the ravages of war. The hair is absolutely amazing, on the groups who show their hair, and for the other groups, whose women keep their heads covered, the variety of hijab is colourful and awe-inspiring. It is sometimes more than I can bear, to look into the eyes of those people who allow eye contact. What lies beneath the surface runs far deeper than many would give them credit for.
As a teacher, there are days when I feel depleted and irritated by the many demands for my attention, the clamour of need, and the awareness that what I have to offer is quite often not what the students feel they want. But there are other days touched by the glamour of golden sunshine, days that are filled with love. Of course these are the days that make it all worthwhile.
I'm reminded of Kim Stanley Robinson's character Frank in 40 Signs of Rain - a scientist, who assesses every situation as though humans were a group of primates running bewildered through this modern world in search of our primeval savannah. We are a weird bunch. I often marvel at the things we do, what we choose to see as important, how we select particular features or activities and prioritise them for no good reason. It's not just about survival anymore...
As for the students, and all the people I watch, they are every one of them individual, and every one of them is beautiful.
(c) Melina Magdalena 2007
Two weird things happened to me at school this week that made me reassess my ideas of cultural identity and my place in the world.
The first thing, was the reaction of several students in my class when we went into the Library's Seminar Room for our reading lesson. A number of new books had been pinned to the noticeboard in the hopes of attracting favourable attention from said students.
"Miss!" One young woman's hand shot up (she's one of the brightest sparkles in the group), "Is that book about you? Is that you in the picture?"
"Er, no..." I replied, looking around to see what she was referring to, "That's a book about Princess Diana."
And sure enough, as the rest of the students dribbled through the door, two others made very similar comments.
Now I know my younger brother bears a distinct resemblance to Prince William - this has been an oft-remarked fact during the course of his life, much to his chagrin. And indeed, our Germanic family colouring and build (apart from the fact that I am height-challenged) is very British Royal. We are not the weedy, pale English flowers, but the rosy-cheeked, hearty German peasant types.
But still - no one has ever mistaken me for Princess Diana before. And I'm not sure whether to be disturbed or flattered!
On the same day, after school, I was standing at the Reception Desk, sorting out some paperwork for next week, when one of the school's BSSOs (Bilingual Support School Officer) came up and congratulated me for winning a permanent teaching position at the school.
"Er, no..." said I, "It's not me. I didn't even apply!"
Oh my, was she embarrassed. Seems she had mistaken me for one of the other teachers. Now again - I'm not sure whether to be disturbed of flattered! The other teacher is also a lesbian; neither of us wear a hijab; we both have short, dark hair - hers is curly. Neither of us wear glasses, and I've never seen the other teacher in anything but trousers, which is the same for me.
I've grown to enjoy the plaintive questions from children - always around the age of 4-6, who wail "Mummy, is that a man or a woman?" As if the large breasts on my chest were not a dead giveaway. I really don't look very masculine, I think?
Anyway, I've been lucky enough to grow up in a multicultural, multiracial society and family. I can hardly imagine what it would be like to have to relearn to read faces and identities if I'd grown up in a homogenous place, where everyone was more or less the same eye, skin and hair colour and where the differences in facial features, build and posture were far more subtle.
It's not as if I'm a know-it-all, and I'm learning new things every minute I'm in the classroom with these students. The subtlety of an eye-brow lift, for example, to indicate assent and understanding, versus the looking down and refusal to meet the teacher's gaze, to indicate compliance and respect.
This week, another teacher revealed to me that when some Sudanese people look away over their shoulders after being offered food or drink, this is not embarrassment or shyness, this indicates their having been gravely insulted.
As if!
As if, they were not able to supply their own needs! As if they were dependent upon the charity and goodwill of others, for their survival. They are a proud people - and this turned my naiive notions of the universal value of hospitality right upon its head.
There are people who nod their heads and make pleasant noises, just in order not to show disagreement, so vital is it in their communities, to present a united front. Occasionally I play games with the Asian students in my class, where I try to force them to reveal their true opinions. So far, I think I've lost out at every attempt.
People watching is one of my all time favourite activities. I watch people, examine their faces and body language, and make up stories about them. I observe their interactions, and when I see family groups, I like to compare features and see the interplay of genetic inheritance. I find this utterly fascinating.
In the playground of a school whose population is mostly new arrivals to Australia, I get the opportunity to look at a myriad of faces every day. There are some groups whose faces are scarred - one group, as ritual scarification and the other group pitted and torn by the ravages of war. The hair is absolutely amazing, on the groups who show their hair, and for the other groups, whose women keep their heads covered, the variety of hijab is colourful and awe-inspiring. It is sometimes more than I can bear, to look into the eyes of those people who allow eye contact. What lies beneath the surface runs far deeper than many would give them credit for.
As a teacher, there are days when I feel depleted and irritated by the many demands for my attention, the clamour of need, and the awareness that what I have to offer is quite often not what the students feel they want. But there are other days touched by the glamour of golden sunshine, days that are filled with love. Of course these are the days that make it all worthwhile.
I'm reminded of Kim Stanley Robinson's character Frank in 40 Signs of Rain - a scientist, who assesses every situation as though humans were a group of primates running bewildered through this modern world in search of our primeval savannah. We are a weird bunch. I often marvel at the things we do, what we choose to see as important, how we select particular features or activities and prioritise them for no good reason. It's not just about survival anymore...
As for the students, and all the people I watch, they are every one of them individual, and every one of them is beautiful.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Second-hand Notoriety
Second-hand Notoriety
(c) Melina Magdalena (2007)
When I was first married, I naively assumed this would mean that men other than my husband would leave me alone. In fact, this was one of the main reasons I got married – to be safe from the sleazy, predatory behaviour of the men – young and old – I encountered every day as I went about my business of being a university student and part-time kitchen hand.
I didn’t realize for a really long time that I looked different from the outside, than the way I saw myself from within. Marriage didn’t impose any picket fence to protect me and keep me safely inside its boundaries. In fact marriage – far from giving me status as an untouchable respectable matron – opened me up to being viewed as sexually available. This was probably due to the fact that in the social circle I inhabited (by begrudged husbandly proxy, as I had no social circle of my own) there were no married couples. I was decidedly the odd one out. And we were all young and hot-blooded.
How was I to understand, coy, squeamish, naïve and inhibited as I was, that being pregnant and married added up to me being sexually active? I didn’t see myself that way! And… since I was willing to have sex with my husband, perhaps I would be willing to tolerate the attentions of other young men who were probably (as I certainly didn’t imagine at the time) curious testosterone-driven and deprived of the female attention they so craved?
Then again, the men who felt it was quite OK to tease and taunt me weren’t all of the young shy virgin variety.
Those who become celebrities at any level, attract the kind of attention from their admirers, which completely changes their image. Or maybe it’s a precondition of celebrity status, that one should have a certain amount of charisma to begin with, and given the opportunity, one’s notoriety grows because of this?
One of my children’s most beloved local musicians was Baterz, who died a few years ago of AIDS-related complications. Baterz himself was a gifted, prolific and creative songmaker. However on one of his creative ventures, he chose to cover a song that was penned by another man. And ever since I heard Baterz’ rendition of that song, “Waza D”, I have been curious as to its origins.
A young man named Basil wrote the song. He was part of a band at the time, and may have collaborated on it. In any case, the facile lyrics of “Waza D” and its persistent rhythm, as well as Baterz & Co’s trademark repetitive harmonies, combine to make a catchy tune that sticks in my mind and in my throat.
I woke up one night in the last couple of weeks with the thought that maybe I was the girl that Basil had met. Could I have been the one who “said she thought I was a D”? It’s the kind of thing I would have said back then, when I hadn’t learned to swear. I recall a party I went to with my husband and baby, in the early 1990s. It was in North Adelaide. I’ve had dreams about the house it was in, for years … dreams in which I faced unexpected obstacles, and found it difficult to get to the front door, no matter how urgently I needed to leave. I hated parties. I hated the attention I got from young men like this one.
So what does “D” connote? “D” for dickhead? “D” for failing grade? “D” for dropkick? Don't suppose I'll ever know now...
And it’s likely I wasn’t the inspiration for that particular song anyway. I should probably just join the queue! Being one of the faceless majority, I suppose I’m simply guilty of scratching around like one of the chooks, willing to settle for second-hand notoriety.
(c) Melina Magdalena (2007)
When I was first married, I naively assumed this would mean that men other than my husband would leave me alone. In fact, this was one of the main reasons I got married – to be safe from the sleazy, predatory behaviour of the men – young and old – I encountered every day as I went about my business of being a university student and part-time kitchen hand.
I didn’t realize for a really long time that I looked different from the outside, than the way I saw myself from within. Marriage didn’t impose any picket fence to protect me and keep me safely inside its boundaries. In fact marriage – far from giving me status as an untouchable respectable matron – opened me up to being viewed as sexually available. This was probably due to the fact that in the social circle I inhabited (by begrudged husbandly proxy, as I had no social circle of my own) there were no married couples. I was decidedly the odd one out. And we were all young and hot-blooded.
How was I to understand, coy, squeamish, naïve and inhibited as I was, that being pregnant and married added up to me being sexually active? I didn’t see myself that way! And… since I was willing to have sex with my husband, perhaps I would be willing to tolerate the attentions of other young men who were probably (as I certainly didn’t imagine at the time) curious testosterone-driven and deprived of the female attention they so craved?
Then again, the men who felt it was quite OK to tease and taunt me weren’t all of the young shy virgin variety.
Those who become celebrities at any level, attract the kind of attention from their admirers, which completely changes their image. Or maybe it’s a precondition of celebrity status, that one should have a certain amount of charisma to begin with, and given the opportunity, one’s notoriety grows because of this?
One of my children’s most beloved local musicians was Baterz, who died a few years ago of AIDS-related complications. Baterz himself was a gifted, prolific and creative songmaker. However on one of his creative ventures, he chose to cover a song that was penned by another man. And ever since I heard Baterz’ rendition of that song, “Waza D”, I have been curious as to its origins.
A young man named Basil wrote the song. He was part of a band at the time, and may have collaborated on it. In any case, the facile lyrics of “Waza D” and its persistent rhythm, as well as Baterz & Co’s trademark repetitive harmonies, combine to make a catchy tune that sticks in my mind and in my throat.
I woke up one night in the last couple of weeks with the thought that maybe I was the girl that Basil had met. Could I have been the one who “said she thought I was a D”? It’s the kind of thing I would have said back then, when I hadn’t learned to swear. I recall a party I went to with my husband and baby, in the early 1990s. It was in North Adelaide. I’ve had dreams about the house it was in, for years … dreams in which I faced unexpected obstacles, and found it difficult to get to the front door, no matter how urgently I needed to leave. I hated parties. I hated the attention I got from young men like this one.
So what does “D” connote? “D” for dickhead? “D” for failing grade? “D” for dropkick? Don't suppose I'll ever know now...
And it’s likely I wasn’t the inspiration for that particular song anyway. I should probably just join the queue! Being one of the faceless majority, I suppose I’m simply guilty of scratching around like one of the chooks, willing to settle for second-hand notoriety.
Sunday, August 26, 2007
Witnessing
Witnessing
(c) Melina Magdalena (2007)
This morning I was digging up my front yard and thinking about – of all things – God. About an hour later, when I was inside about to roll up my sleeves to do the dishes, there was a knock on my door and there were the Jehovah’s Witnesses. The JW who spoke, talked about how so many people say that history continues to repeat itself whereas as a JW he believes that “man keeps making the same mistakes”. Considering one of my first actions this morning was to write to Turnbull via GetUp, and beg him not to eradicate the Tamar River in Tasmania by permitting Gunn’s Pulp Mill to be built on its banks, this was quite apt. It almost felt like I had that oft-touted personal relationship with God, who sent these JWs to knock on my door today.
The scripture message the JW shared with me this morning was from Psalms. The last line promises us “an abundance of peace”. He stuffed himself up considerably, to my view, when he began to talk about how most people in Christendom believe that they will die and go to Heaven but aren’t able to say what they’ll be doing there, because I began to question in my mind just how an era of peace would differ from that. How will the lucky chosen ones choose to spend their time on this rejuvenated planet where we are all brothers and sisters with no need to toil? To my way of thinking, the distinction is between peace on earth or peace in heaven. I believe we can have heaven on earth, if it’s what humanity chooses.
But then again, perhaps we are not really destined for peace at all. Perhaps it is in the conflicts we encounter in our lives, that we grow and evolve? Or perhaps the talk of god and peace and heaven is just an expression of humanity’s need to be important and effective? Perhaps all the various things we humans do and say and believe is part of our eternal quest for significance?
Did you know that God has a dotcom? I’m not putting that link on my blog. The links here are playful, and I have no wish to promote fundamentalist Christianity or any other brand of fundamentalism. But I do want to write about God today.
I was recently privy to an episode of Radio National’s http://www.abc.net.au/rn/religionreport/stories/2007/1987489.htm Religion Report, with Stephen Crittenden. It made me hopping mad. I missed out on the following program one week later, broadcast in response to Part One of the program. The subject of discussion was http://www.samfordschool.com/FAQ.htm/ Steiner Schools, and their infiltration into the secular public school system in Victoria. Accusations have been levelled against proponents of Steiner Education, that it is occult and that including a Steiner Stream within a public school contravenes the principles of secular education. These accusations come from parents who enrolled their children into the Steiner Stream but later withdrew them, finding it not to their liking.
I have two main objections to the program, and the way it attacked Steiner Schooling. My first objection is about the hypocrisy in claiming that the secular public school system of Australia is less objectionable than Steiner Schooling on the basis that Steiner Schooling promulgates racist ideology, whereas secular schooling does not.
Rudolf Steiner, the originator of Steiner Schooling, is held responsible for all aspects of contemporary Steiner Education. I was disturbed when I heard about the Sri Lankan children who were prevented from using dark colours to depict themselves. The basis for preventing these children’s access to accurate skin tones is plainly racist. Likewise, the absurd notion that blue-eyed, fair-skinned children are more intelligent than dark-eyed, dark-skinned children. These ideas should hold no currency in contemporary culturally diverse Australia.
But Rudolf Steiner lived from 1861-1925. Racist ideology against Aboriginal people was still being openly acted upon through government policies in Australia until 1967 http://www.abc.net.au/messageclub/duknow/stories/s888141.htm when Aboriginal people were finally granted the right to vote as citizens of this nation. Many would argue that Australia continues to manifest its racist ideologies against people of colour, including Aboriginal people, southern Europeans, Middle Easterners, Asians, South Americans, Africans and everyone who does not conform to the fair-skinned version of what a real Australian is supposed to look like (i.e. Anglo-Celtic).
Scratch the surface of Australia’s public school systems and expose the underlying racist ideology that informs almost every aspect of its curricula. What is not made explicit is nonetheless very present, and those whose life experiences have sensitized them to racism will feel a familiar prickly heat of outrage whenever the whitewashing of their experiences continues to be promulgated.
Yes, conscientious politically-correct schools and teachers do what they can to counter ingrained societal attitudes, but this holds as equally for teachers who are teaching in the public sector as it does for those in any alternative education system, including Steiner Schools. When outdated educational materials that are inescapably racist, homophobic, ageist and sexist continue to be used in schools, what hope do we have of changing societal attitudes?
Secondly, why is it so difficult to imagine that Steiner Education has grown beyond the beliefs of its founder? Is it impossible to consider that teachers have minds that can incorporate the beautiful, functional, effective aspects of Steiner Education whilst rejecting the bigoted aspects?
Thirdly, the outright hypocrisy in labelling Steiner Education as inherently racist and occult is shown up by the eager acceptance of Christian fundamentalism in schools. In South Australian public schools, it has become popular to invite Chaplains onto the school sites to work with the students. This is cheaper than hiring a qualified school counsellor, because evangelical organisations are willing to foot the bill. A quick glance at the website of Marryatville High, http://www.marryatvillehs.sa.edu.au/schoolprofile/ser_chaplain.html/ one of Adelaide’s most prestigious secondary public schools, shows exactly what a chaplain brings to the school – and it doesn’t even pretend to pander to the realities of cultural or religious diversity.
I wonder why Steiner Education in the classroom is seen to be promoting the Spiritual World and the Occult more than Christian Fundamentalism on the school site? Is this not in itself a hypocrisy, given Rudolf Steiner’s professed adherence to the Christian faith?
In this episode, the spiritual aspects of Steiner Education were attacked on the premise that children enrolled in public schools should not be exposed to any spiritual elements within their schooling. This is another fallacy. Rare is the teacher who chooses not to engage in the Christmas and Easter celebrations that are mainstream Australian fare. In my experience, it is only when JW families have the temerity to explicitly demand of the teachers of their children that they not promote birthday celebrations or other religious events within their classrooms that teachers bother to examine whether it is appropriate to assume that every child in his or her classroom is Christian.
To be fair, this may be changing as the face of Australia changes. In the mid 1990s when my children were in kindergarten, I went to the Director and suggested that she request families bring halal or vegetarian dishes to our family luncheons, so as not to offend or exclude anyone. At that time we had an Indonesian Muslim girl and a Brahmin boy amongst our class, as well as my Jewish children. Such a thing had not occurred to the Kindergarten Director, but to her credit, she took it on board.
To accuse Steiner Education of being occult is as silly as accusing mainstream teachers of satanism on the basis that they put up Christmas trees and other decorations, and teach their students about Easter Bunny and Father Christmans http://www.lone-star.net/mall/main-areas/santafaq.htm/.
Don’t you think children need to have something beyond themselves to reach for? Yes, these MeMeMegeneration Individuals are egocentric and have disproportionate beliefs in their own entitlement, but for many young people the mirror image of this is the void of connection with anything other than their peers. Couple this with the fanatical belief in their efficacy and it becomes obvious why the denial of access to the development of spiritual belief leads to a very sick society.
Every child is the centre of his or her own universe, and as such, every child tends to believe in his or her ability to cause things to happen. When children are left hanging with no one to catch them, it is easy for a child to attribute anything bad that occurs, to something he or she does, thinks or believes. Why aren’t my parents married? Oh it must be my fault. Why is my mother so unhappy? Well, if she hadn’t had children, (i.e. me) she would be happy. Why did the car break down? Oh, it must be because I wet the bed last night. Why didn’t she want to be my friend today? Oh, it must be because I ate two helpings of dessert last night when I was only supposed to eat one.
Parents who apathetically deny their children any spiritual guidance other than what they may glean from mainstream commercial drivel, bequeath them an emptiness. The thirst to fill up this emptiness can result in disorder and diseases such as addiction, depression, greed, lack of empathy and criminality. In this sense, even a passionate atheist is preferable to someone who refuses to engage in any brand of spiritual discourse with his or her children.
For me, the idea of ‘magic’ is strongly linked with childhood. I learned early that things happen sometimes that have nothing to do with me. These things impact upon me, and those I love, but that’s not always my fault. I learned to acknowledge the mysterious and invite it into my life, and this is valuable for two reasons. Firstly, it makes life more interesting and secondly, it frees me from having to be right all the time.
Furthermore, an examination of the processes of life gives us access to some of the most intriguing mysteries any human being could want. Don’t scientists frequently devote large parts of their lives delving into such mysteries?
If you think about scientific processes, the ritual objects that are part of the ceremony of experimentation are no less occult to the general observer, than the ritual objects used by adherents of religions. The difference is that scientists generally seek to explain and enlighten, whereas the conventionally religious often prefer to maintain an air of impenetrable mystery. But the parallels are undeniable.
The Radio National episode against Steiner Education becoming part of public schools in Victoria used the examples of Daily Blessings and Candle lighting as rituals that are linked to the Occult.
Now really, what gives rise to such ALARM?
In a school, a Daily Blessing is a tool to gather and focus the attention of the class. This tool works to positively engage the children so that they are ready to work. If mention is made of Life, how is that damaging to children who naturally seek to know their place in a confusing and complex world?
And candles? As well might I ask why we light candles on birthday cakes and romantic dinner tables? Are these equally occult?
Pity the detractors to Steiner Education who would deny their children an experience of wholistic education – but do they also deny their children the everyday magic of family celebrations and rituals? My JW friend would no doubt inform me that as birthdays are not celebrated in the Bible nor should they be celebrated by people today. He might go further and tell me that celebrating birthdays goes directly against God.
(c) Melina Magdalena (2007)
This morning I was digging up my front yard and thinking about – of all things – God. About an hour later, when I was inside about to roll up my sleeves to do the dishes, there was a knock on my door and there were the Jehovah’s Witnesses. The JW who spoke, talked about how so many people say that history continues to repeat itself whereas as a JW he believes that “man keeps making the same mistakes”. Considering one of my first actions this morning was to write to Turnbull via GetUp, and beg him not to eradicate the Tamar River in Tasmania by permitting Gunn’s Pulp Mill to be built on its banks, this was quite apt. It almost felt like I had that oft-touted personal relationship with God, who sent these JWs to knock on my door today.
The scripture message the JW shared with me this morning was from Psalms. The last line promises us “an abundance of peace”. He stuffed himself up considerably, to my view, when he began to talk about how most people in Christendom believe that they will die and go to Heaven but aren’t able to say what they’ll be doing there, because I began to question in my mind just how an era of peace would differ from that. How will the lucky chosen ones choose to spend their time on this rejuvenated planet where we are all brothers and sisters with no need to toil? To my way of thinking, the distinction is between peace on earth or peace in heaven. I believe we can have heaven on earth, if it’s what humanity chooses.
But then again, perhaps we are not really destined for peace at all. Perhaps it is in the conflicts we encounter in our lives, that we grow and evolve? Or perhaps the talk of god and peace and heaven is just an expression of humanity’s need to be important and effective? Perhaps all the various things we humans do and say and believe is part of our eternal quest for significance?
Did you know that God has a dotcom? I’m not putting that link on my blog. The links here are playful, and I have no wish to promote fundamentalist Christianity or any other brand of fundamentalism. But I do want to write about God today.
I was recently privy to an episode of Radio National’s http://www.abc.net.au/rn/religionreport/stories/2007/1987489.htm Religion Report, with Stephen Crittenden. It made me hopping mad. I missed out on the following program one week later, broadcast in response to Part One of the program. The subject of discussion was http://www.samfordschool.com/FAQ.htm/ Steiner Schools, and their infiltration into the secular public school system in Victoria. Accusations have been levelled against proponents of Steiner Education, that it is occult and that including a Steiner Stream within a public school contravenes the principles of secular education. These accusations come from parents who enrolled their children into the Steiner Stream but later withdrew them, finding it not to their liking.
I have two main objections to the program, and the way it attacked Steiner Schooling. My first objection is about the hypocrisy in claiming that the secular public school system of Australia is less objectionable than Steiner Schooling on the basis that Steiner Schooling promulgates racist ideology, whereas secular schooling does not.
Rudolf Steiner, the originator of Steiner Schooling, is held responsible for all aspects of contemporary Steiner Education. I was disturbed when I heard about the Sri Lankan children who were prevented from using dark colours to depict themselves. The basis for preventing these children’s access to accurate skin tones is plainly racist. Likewise, the absurd notion that blue-eyed, fair-skinned children are more intelligent than dark-eyed, dark-skinned children. These ideas should hold no currency in contemporary culturally diverse Australia.
But Rudolf Steiner lived from 1861-1925. Racist ideology against Aboriginal people was still being openly acted upon through government policies in Australia until 1967 http://www.abc.net.au/messageclub/duknow/stories/s888141.htm when Aboriginal people were finally granted the right to vote as citizens of this nation. Many would argue that Australia continues to manifest its racist ideologies against people of colour, including Aboriginal people, southern Europeans, Middle Easterners, Asians, South Americans, Africans and everyone who does not conform to the fair-skinned version of what a real Australian is supposed to look like (i.e. Anglo-Celtic).
Scratch the surface of Australia’s public school systems and expose the underlying racist ideology that informs almost every aspect of its curricula. What is not made explicit is nonetheless very present, and those whose life experiences have sensitized them to racism will feel a familiar prickly heat of outrage whenever the whitewashing of their experiences continues to be promulgated.
Yes, conscientious politically-correct schools and teachers do what they can to counter ingrained societal attitudes, but this holds as equally for teachers who are teaching in the public sector as it does for those in any alternative education system, including Steiner Schools. When outdated educational materials that are inescapably racist, homophobic, ageist and sexist continue to be used in schools, what hope do we have of changing societal attitudes?
Secondly, why is it so difficult to imagine that Steiner Education has grown beyond the beliefs of its founder? Is it impossible to consider that teachers have minds that can incorporate the beautiful, functional, effective aspects of Steiner Education whilst rejecting the bigoted aspects?
Thirdly, the outright hypocrisy in labelling Steiner Education as inherently racist and occult is shown up by the eager acceptance of Christian fundamentalism in schools. In South Australian public schools, it has become popular to invite Chaplains onto the school sites to work with the students. This is cheaper than hiring a qualified school counsellor, because evangelical organisations are willing to foot the bill. A quick glance at the website of Marryatville High, http://www.marryatvillehs.sa.edu.au/schoolprofile/ser_chaplain.html/ one of Adelaide’s most prestigious secondary public schools, shows exactly what a chaplain brings to the school – and it doesn’t even pretend to pander to the realities of cultural or religious diversity.
I wonder why Steiner Education in the classroom is seen to be promoting the Spiritual World and the Occult more than Christian Fundamentalism on the school site? Is this not in itself a hypocrisy, given Rudolf Steiner’s professed adherence to the Christian faith?
In this episode, the spiritual aspects of Steiner Education were attacked on the premise that children enrolled in public schools should not be exposed to any spiritual elements within their schooling. This is another fallacy. Rare is the teacher who chooses not to engage in the Christmas and Easter celebrations that are mainstream Australian fare. In my experience, it is only when JW families have the temerity to explicitly demand of the teachers of their children that they not promote birthday celebrations or other religious events within their classrooms that teachers bother to examine whether it is appropriate to assume that every child in his or her classroom is Christian.
To be fair, this may be changing as the face of Australia changes. In the mid 1990s when my children were in kindergarten, I went to the Director and suggested that she request families bring halal or vegetarian dishes to our family luncheons, so as not to offend or exclude anyone. At that time we had an Indonesian Muslim girl and a Brahmin boy amongst our class, as well as my Jewish children. Such a thing had not occurred to the Kindergarten Director, but to her credit, she took it on board.
To accuse Steiner Education of being occult is as silly as accusing mainstream teachers of satanism on the basis that they put up Christmas trees and other decorations, and teach their students about Easter Bunny and Father Christmans http://www.lone-star.net/mall/main-areas/santafaq.htm/.
Don’t you think children need to have something beyond themselves to reach for? Yes, these MeMeMegeneration Individuals are egocentric and have disproportionate beliefs in their own entitlement, but for many young people the mirror image of this is the void of connection with anything other than their peers. Couple this with the fanatical belief in their efficacy and it becomes obvious why the denial of access to the development of spiritual belief leads to a very sick society.
Every child is the centre of his or her own universe, and as such, every child tends to believe in his or her ability to cause things to happen. When children are left hanging with no one to catch them, it is easy for a child to attribute anything bad that occurs, to something he or she does, thinks or believes. Why aren’t my parents married? Oh it must be my fault. Why is my mother so unhappy? Well, if she hadn’t had children, (i.e. me) she would be happy. Why did the car break down? Oh, it must be because I wet the bed last night. Why didn’t she want to be my friend today? Oh, it must be because I ate two helpings of dessert last night when I was only supposed to eat one.
Parents who apathetically deny their children any spiritual guidance other than what they may glean from mainstream commercial drivel, bequeath them an emptiness. The thirst to fill up this emptiness can result in disorder and diseases such as addiction, depression, greed, lack of empathy and criminality. In this sense, even a passionate atheist is preferable to someone who refuses to engage in any brand of spiritual discourse with his or her children.
For me, the idea of ‘magic’ is strongly linked with childhood. I learned early that things happen sometimes that have nothing to do with me. These things impact upon me, and those I love, but that’s not always my fault. I learned to acknowledge the mysterious and invite it into my life, and this is valuable for two reasons. Firstly, it makes life more interesting and secondly, it frees me from having to be right all the time.
Furthermore, an examination of the processes of life gives us access to some of the most intriguing mysteries any human being could want. Don’t scientists frequently devote large parts of their lives delving into such mysteries?
If you think about scientific processes, the ritual objects that are part of the ceremony of experimentation are no less occult to the general observer, than the ritual objects used by adherents of religions. The difference is that scientists generally seek to explain and enlighten, whereas the conventionally religious often prefer to maintain an air of impenetrable mystery. But the parallels are undeniable.
The Radio National episode against Steiner Education becoming part of public schools in Victoria used the examples of Daily Blessings and Candle lighting as rituals that are linked to the Occult.
Now really, what gives rise to such ALARM?
In a school, a Daily Blessing is a tool to gather and focus the attention of the class. This tool works to positively engage the children so that they are ready to work. If mention is made of Life, how is that damaging to children who naturally seek to know their place in a confusing and complex world?
And candles? As well might I ask why we light candles on birthday cakes and romantic dinner tables? Are these equally occult?
Pity the detractors to Steiner Education who would deny their children an experience of wholistic education – but do they also deny their children the everyday magic of family celebrations and rituals? My JW friend would no doubt inform me that as birthdays are not celebrated in the Bible nor should they be celebrated by people today. He might go further and tell me that celebrating birthdays goes directly against God.
Saturday, August 18, 2007
Body Incorporate (i)
Body Incorporate (i)
(c) Melina Magdalena 2007
I suppose it’s when you have a lover that you really get in touch with what it means to have a body. At least that’s how it was with me. And when I was giving birth I remember everything else in the world faded to insignificance. I do use my body for other things – typing at the keyboard, digging in the garden, writing on the whiteboard, painting furniture …. But lately I’ve felt a curious disconnection between me and my body.
This is not the first time I’ve experienced such dislocation. It’s a fairly common sensation for anyone who has suffered physical trauma. And for those familiar with falling dreams, these happen when one’s wandering spirit is pulled firmly back into the body.
When I sat down to start this piece, I pulled up one of the handy online dictionaries and checked out the entries for corporate / incorporate and corporeal / incorporeal. It was immediately clear that all of these terms now relate to law, economics and the industrial world. Now who was it, in my distant past that harped on continuously about how a person was so much less powerful than a corporation? And how when it comes to holding an entity responsible for its behaviour, and making an entity accountable for its actions, it is well nigh impossible to treat a corporation in quite the same way that one can treat an individual human being.
I can’t recall who this was, but it is in any case a tangential train of thought… perhaps if I keep writing, my original intent will merge with this, and maybe not.
It was during my most recent conversation with my current PD – the one I would like to take home with me and make part of my family – that I caught a glimmer of something that intrigued me anew, in my meanderings of trying to puzzle out the why simultaneously with the whens, the whats, the whos and the whiches. I had sent him an email with my fantasy-idealised version of how I would like things to go between us in terms of making babies. I said in my email that I felt I was asking to have my cake and eat it too. His response was that since it’s my body, I ought to be able to do what I wanted with it, and that it wasn’t anyone’s business to tell me otherwise.
Now when he said this, I felt a distinct Jonathan Livingstone Seagull sensation, as though I were pulled from one plane onto another. There was a Zing! or a Click! or a StingPZZT! Everything was draped with a freshness and clarity that masked the bleary ordinariness of the previous moment.
Talk of the rights to do with my body what I want to do with it have entered my world from two directions
(a) reproductive rights, which to me have always felt like the right to access free and safe abortion, and
(b) reclaim the night and the right to be safe from sexual harassment and assault. The right to bear children independently of all the heterosexual legal romantic nonsensical rigmarole is something different again. The freedom I experienced at that moment was a removal of the shroud of secrecy, shame and self-doubt that has coloured my efforts to have another child until now.
One of the things that have happened to me in the last couple of months is an opening up of conversations about my intentions. Naturally, the more I talk and share, the more possible my intentions become. I understand this dynamic intimately, though understanding it does not remove the barrier of fear that stops me from making use thereof!
I received a phone call recently from one of the presenters of Aqueerium, a radio program here in Adelaide. It promotes itself as a program which “celebrates GLBTIQ culture in Adelaide and promotes equality throughout all of Australia and the world” (website accessed 19/8/2007).
The presenter called me after receiving a letter I distributed through my email channels, which was an appeal to sperm producers of Adelaide to engage in conversations about sperm donation and the creation of family. She wanted to interview me about my journey to have another child. She thought this would be an appropriate and interesting subject to address in her next show. Was I interested? Yes I was.
She checked out that I consider myself part of Adelaide’s queer community – clearly from my (anonymous) letter there was no indication of my sexual or gender orientation other than I didn’t produce my own sperm – and proceeded to question me about my partner. I explained that I am single, whereupon her attitude towards me took an abrupt u-turn.
“Well, that puts a very different spin on the whole issue, doesn’t it,” she said (or something like that). “I’m not really sure that’s where I want to go with the topic. Can you give me a few hours to think it over, and I’ll get back to you with a definite yes or no.”
What were a few hours to me when a few minutes previously I’d never heard of the woman?
She decided it wasn’t somewhere she wanted to go and I found myself floundering for a while, flagellating protazoa-like but with definite overtones of self-punishment verging on self-harm. How pathetically vulnerable I am to the judgment of others!
I have Lesbian_Parents_Australia to thank once again for supporting and encouraging me to find my feet again. This is part of what I posted:
It feels like my motivations are being questioned, as though I am some seedy, shady character who would rather form relationships with children, than with my peers. Someone who uses my children as my social group, instead of socialising with adults. Someone who is slightly off, because she is single. Someone clearly unacceptable as a candidate for sperm donation.
Further clarity also arrived via Sonja Vivienne’s Family Values website, where she writes of herself that
“I’m single. I’m queer. I’m a mum. For most of my life I’ve tried to ‘fit’ and because I can blend into the wallpaper, I’ve managed pretty well… Now I’d like to have another child… For the first time in a long time I’ll be visible…
Why this is me to a ‘T’, except that I vacillate between an intense need to be invisible and a strident need to be acknowledged and recognised as lesbian, jewish, single mum.
Anything wrong with that?
(more later)
(c) Melina Magdalena 2007
I suppose it’s when you have a lover that you really get in touch with what it means to have a body. At least that’s how it was with me. And when I was giving birth I remember everything else in the world faded to insignificance. I do use my body for other things – typing at the keyboard, digging in the garden, writing on the whiteboard, painting furniture …. But lately I’ve felt a curious disconnection between me and my body.
This is not the first time I’ve experienced such dislocation. It’s a fairly common sensation for anyone who has suffered physical trauma. And for those familiar with falling dreams, these happen when one’s wandering spirit is pulled firmly back into the body.
When I sat down to start this piece, I pulled up one of the handy online dictionaries and checked out the entries for corporate / incorporate and corporeal / incorporeal. It was immediately clear that all of these terms now relate to law, economics and the industrial world. Now who was it, in my distant past that harped on continuously about how a person was so much less powerful than a corporation? And how when it comes to holding an entity responsible for its behaviour, and making an entity accountable for its actions, it is well nigh impossible to treat a corporation in quite the same way that one can treat an individual human being.
I can’t recall who this was, but it is in any case a tangential train of thought… perhaps if I keep writing, my original intent will merge with this, and maybe not.
It was during my most recent conversation with my current PD – the one I would like to take home with me and make part of my family – that I caught a glimmer of something that intrigued me anew, in my meanderings of trying to puzzle out the why simultaneously with the whens, the whats, the whos and the whiches. I had sent him an email with my fantasy-idealised version of how I would like things to go between us in terms of making babies. I said in my email that I felt I was asking to have my cake and eat it too. His response was that since it’s my body, I ought to be able to do what I wanted with it, and that it wasn’t anyone’s business to tell me otherwise.
Now when he said this, I felt a distinct Jonathan Livingstone Seagull sensation, as though I were pulled from one plane onto another. There was a Zing! or a Click! or a StingPZZT! Everything was draped with a freshness and clarity that masked the bleary ordinariness of the previous moment.
Talk of the rights to do with my body what I want to do with it have entered my world from two directions
(a) reproductive rights, which to me have always felt like the right to access free and safe abortion, and
(b) reclaim the night and the right to be safe from sexual harassment and assault. The right to bear children independently of all the heterosexual legal romantic nonsensical rigmarole is something different again. The freedom I experienced at that moment was a removal of the shroud of secrecy, shame and self-doubt that has coloured my efforts to have another child until now.
One of the things that have happened to me in the last couple of months is an opening up of conversations about my intentions. Naturally, the more I talk and share, the more possible my intentions become. I understand this dynamic intimately, though understanding it does not remove the barrier of fear that stops me from making use thereof!
I received a phone call recently from one of the presenters of Aqueerium, a radio program here in Adelaide. It promotes itself as a program which “celebrates GLBTIQ culture in Adelaide and promotes equality throughout all of Australia and the world” (website accessed 19/8/2007).
The presenter called me after receiving a letter I distributed through my email channels, which was an appeal to sperm producers of Adelaide to engage in conversations about sperm donation and the creation of family. She wanted to interview me about my journey to have another child. She thought this would be an appropriate and interesting subject to address in her next show. Was I interested? Yes I was.
She checked out that I consider myself part of Adelaide’s queer community – clearly from my (anonymous) letter there was no indication of my sexual or gender orientation other than I didn’t produce my own sperm – and proceeded to question me about my partner. I explained that I am single, whereupon her attitude towards me took an abrupt u-turn.
“Well, that puts a very different spin on the whole issue, doesn’t it,” she said (or something like that). “I’m not really sure that’s where I want to go with the topic. Can you give me a few hours to think it over, and I’ll get back to you with a definite yes or no.”
What were a few hours to me when a few minutes previously I’d never heard of the woman?
She decided it wasn’t somewhere she wanted to go and I found myself floundering for a while, flagellating protazoa-like but with definite overtones of self-punishment verging on self-harm. How pathetically vulnerable I am to the judgment of others!
I have Lesbian_Parents_Australia to thank once again for supporting and encouraging me to find my feet again. This is part of what I posted:
It feels like my motivations are being questioned, as though I am some seedy, shady character who would rather form relationships with children, than with my peers. Someone who uses my children as my social group, instead of socialising with adults. Someone who is slightly off, because she is single. Someone clearly unacceptable as a candidate for sperm donation.
Further clarity also arrived via Sonja Vivienne’s Family Values website, where she writes of herself that
“I’m single. I’m queer. I’m a mum. For most of my life I’ve tried to ‘fit’ and because I can blend into the wallpaper, I’ve managed pretty well… Now I’d like to have another child… For the first time in a long time I’ll be visible…
Why this is me to a ‘T’, except that I vacillate between an intense need to be invisible and a strident need to be acknowledged and recognised as lesbian, jewish, single mum.
Anything wrong with that?
(more later)
Friday, August 10, 2007
Brazil Nuts and Iranian Dates
Brazil Nuts and Iranian Dates
(c) Melina Magdalena 2007
Well . . . after a two-month hiatus in blogging that I can scarcely begin to explain, I seem to have broken the habit and don't quite know what to say. A lot has been going on in my life, but that's nothing new. Maybe it all caught up with me and I was forced to deal, rather than just observe. I feel tired already, just thinking about it.
The last time I blogged was just prior to inviting yet another PD (prospective donor) to take a look at my blog. He is also a writer, and my thinking was to short-cut part of the getting-to-know-you ordeal. Alas, I have not heard from him since.
Perhaps what I have been experiencing is a little like culture shock. Or to put it more accurately, I am repeatedly experiencing mini-earthquakes. The aftershocks rock my world, forcing me further and further from my comfort zone. Is this all part of growing up, I wonder?
culture shock
n. disorientation and unhappiness caused by an inability to adapt to a culture which is different from one's own
(from The Macquarie Concise Dictionary, Third Edition)
... but I haven't been unhappy, and I have adapted to disorientation, disappointment and disillusion, by simply continuing to plant one foot in front of the other and keeping on keeping on.
I can at least elucidate on the title of this post!
Yesterday I had my 12-month fitness checkup at the University of South Australia. I have been taking part in a PhD program which is studying the effects of regular exercise on a sedentary population. To begin with 12 months ago, my fitness age was assessed as being in my 60s. This was terrifying! But I signed up, because they were offering me 40 days of free fitness classes three times per week. I knew this would be good for me. Since my dog died I had stopped going for walks. My joints were stiff, and I felt tired all the time. So after the inital 40 days, my fitness was monitored at 3 months, 6 months, and now 12 months.
The assessment is done after fasting, because as well as taking measurements of height, girth and skin folds, they look at blood glucose, cholesterol, lung function, reaction times, flexibility and heart rate during exercise.
So I was pretty hungry, when I arrived home after the assessment. Over 12 months I managed to lose about 2 kilograms, but gained a great deal more, including the confidence and motivation to exercise regularly.
I feasted on a handful of brazil nuts and pitted iranian dates, accompanied by my usual milky tea. Why is it that such simple foods taste so very good even after so short an abstinence?
Here is a short list of the culture shocks I am feeling just now.
- entering a world in which I am being paid substantially for the professional work I do
- spending a great deal of my time performing and being public
- learning how to mother young adults and build healthy family relationships upon this ever-changing lifescape
- listening to the tales of horror, atrocity and redemption that hover like spectral deathshrouds over the present lives of the students in my classes
- discovering at every moment how little I really understand about this world or any other
- trying to make my ideas and visions manifest in ways other than the written word
Although the idea of 'culture shock' may sound negative, I feel I am moving into an extraordinarily positive phase in my life. Opportunities for deep and abiding friendship, meaningful work and creativity are knocking on the doors and windows of my mind. I am overwhelmed by ideas and sensations, but I'm still grounded. It's a matter of recognising the choices as they present, and taking action when I so choose.
I feel blessed with good fortune. Funnily enough, I don't feel driven right now, to prosletyse. I am aware and I am communicating. Right here, right now, that is exactly where I am.
(c) Melina Magdalena 2007
Well . . . after a two-month hiatus in blogging that I can scarcely begin to explain, I seem to have broken the habit and don't quite know what to say. A lot has been going on in my life, but that's nothing new. Maybe it all caught up with me and I was forced to deal, rather than just observe. I feel tired already, just thinking about it.
The last time I blogged was just prior to inviting yet another PD (prospective donor) to take a look at my blog. He is also a writer, and my thinking was to short-cut part of the getting-to-know-you ordeal. Alas, I have not heard from him since.
Perhaps what I have been experiencing is a little like culture shock. Or to put it more accurately, I am repeatedly experiencing mini-earthquakes. The aftershocks rock my world, forcing me further and further from my comfort zone. Is this all part of growing up, I wonder?
culture shock
n. disorientation and unhappiness caused by an inability to adapt to a culture which is different from one's own
(from The Macquarie Concise Dictionary, Third Edition)
... but I haven't been unhappy, and I have adapted to disorientation, disappointment and disillusion, by simply continuing to plant one foot in front of the other and keeping on keeping on.
I can at least elucidate on the title of this post!
Yesterday I had my 12-month fitness checkup at the University of South Australia. I have been taking part in a PhD program which is studying the effects of regular exercise on a sedentary population. To begin with 12 months ago, my fitness age was assessed as being in my 60s. This was terrifying! But I signed up, because they were offering me 40 days of free fitness classes three times per week. I knew this would be good for me. Since my dog died I had stopped going for walks. My joints were stiff, and I felt tired all the time. So after the inital 40 days, my fitness was monitored at 3 months, 6 months, and now 12 months.
The assessment is done after fasting, because as well as taking measurements of height, girth and skin folds, they look at blood glucose, cholesterol, lung function, reaction times, flexibility and heart rate during exercise.
So I was pretty hungry, when I arrived home after the assessment. Over 12 months I managed to lose about 2 kilograms, but gained a great deal more, including the confidence and motivation to exercise regularly.
I feasted on a handful of brazil nuts and pitted iranian dates, accompanied by my usual milky tea. Why is it that such simple foods taste so very good even after so short an abstinence?
Here is a short list of the culture shocks I am feeling just now.
- entering a world in which I am being paid substantially for the professional work I do
- spending a great deal of my time performing and being public
- learning how to mother young adults and build healthy family relationships upon this ever-changing lifescape
- listening to the tales of horror, atrocity and redemption that hover like spectral deathshrouds over the present lives of the students in my classes
- discovering at every moment how little I really understand about this world or any other
- trying to make my ideas and visions manifest in ways other than the written word
Although the idea of 'culture shock' may sound negative, I feel I am moving into an extraordinarily positive phase in my life. Opportunities for deep and abiding friendship, meaningful work and creativity are knocking on the doors and windows of my mind. I am overwhelmed by ideas and sensations, but I'm still grounded. It's a matter of recognising the choices as they present, and taking action when I so choose.
I feel blessed with good fortune. Funnily enough, I don't feel driven right now, to prosletyse. I am aware and I am communicating. Right here, right now, that is exactly where I am.
Friday, June 15, 2007
my propensity
my propensity
(c) Melina Magdalena 2007
Last night at Shabbat, I was sitting at the table with my parents and my children, enjoying peppermint tea and brownies that were still warm from the oven, and deliciously gooey. I mentioned that I had finally found out what happened to the official complaint I had made against my boss in my job that I left six months ago. As I talked about the email exchange in which I was informed that the substance of my complaint was never adequately dealt with because by the time the complaint had reached a stage in the process where it could be raised and discussed, I was no longer an employee of the institution whose Staff Complaints Policy had made it possible for me to make the complaint in the first place, I noticed that my son was making faces, had become tense, and was trying to find a crack in the wall of my verbosity, to chisel his way into the conversation.
"Let me guess", he said cynically, "what you did next. You wrote a letter..."
We all laughed. I was desperate to know where this would go, and tried to get him to tell me, but the others wanted me to finish my story first.
So I told them that indeed I had written a letter to express my valid dissatisfaction with this outcome; that the union to which both I and the person I whose behaviour I had complained about belonged to had opened up this devious method whereby the behaviour would neither be dealt with nor acknowledged, and that I hoped in my new career path that despite the certainty that I will come face-to-face with my ex-boss, I will have the professional strength and integrity not to be victimised again.
I received with a promptness that beggars belief, a most indignant response to my letter from the person who had been originally assigned to deal with my complaint and who has concertedly ignored my every effort over the past six months to ascertain what was being done about it. She suggested I am insensitive and inconsiderate; unable to understand the bereavement she has been going through, and that I ought to respect the need to keep certain things confidential.
I really don't agree that keeping things confidential assists in making the world a better place. I don't agree that not telling me what was going on was the right thing to do. I don't agree that seeking the loophole serves any purpose other than maintaining a shaky status quo.
SO THERE!!!
Finally, I was able to return to the subject of my son's attitude toward my propensity for letter writing. He was simultaneously reluctant and eager to tie me to the post above the flames that were already licking the bare soles of my feet.
"Well," he began, with a brittle tone to his voice, "You know that letter you said you didn't write?"
(which one, asked myself in a silent whisper)
"The one about the cricket trip to Malaysia?"
(Phew - I guessed correctly.)
"Well, that's why I got dropped from the First 11s."
My son, my son. He is crushed, he is proud, he is angry and he is defeated. All this at once. How can he possibly achieve what he wants to with a mother like me?
I pressed for more information. Sure enough, his coach, who previously had talked to me about the very real possibility that my son would be made captain of the team, unceremoniously, with no explanation omitted my son's name from the list of players on the team.
NOW THAT'S JUST NOT CRICKET, IS IT?
It's very clearly my fault, and I feel very badly about it. Why should my son suffer for his mother's big mouth? Especially since the letter I wrote on behalf of myself and the scared, silent parents of players who also could not afford to fund their son's trip to Malaysia to play elite cricket had such a prophetic quality. In the end, I was the only parent who stuck my neck out and said I simply could not condone the proposal on the grounds that it was inequitable. Other parents took a passive approach, pretended to go along with the scheme until the very last minute, when they were honest about their inability to pay for the trip. Their sons are still on the team. Mine is not.
My propensity for letter writing gets me into trouble. It's ironic that when I write letters to promote and protect those close to me, sometimes they get shot down in my place. I don't seek martydom for them, or for myself. But I do seek to stand up and speak out when it's necessary.
So as badly as I feel, and as angry as I am at the petty and unprofessional behaviour of this cricket coach, I don't think I will write to him again. Next time I see him, I shall attempt to have a face-to-face discussion with him about what happened. After all, when I tried to raise my concerns in the meetings that were called about the proposal to send the team to Malaysia, I was dismissed as though I were simply being negative or stingy.
I plan to make a card this weekend, for the Human Resources person whom I offended so greatly this week. It's high time I got my paints out again. I can sense where she's at. She's hurting, grieving deeply, casting about for the source of her distress. Poor thing. It's never easy to lose one's life partner, and I feel bad to be causing her more grief at this time. I'm certain she feels guilty for not being in a position to manoeuvre my complaint through a process that would have led to a more satisfactory outcome.
I make an easy target. After all, I'm getting on with my life and therefore should not be dwelling on the unpleasantness that led to me to my distress eight months ago. It's natural for her to take this out on me. I forgive her.
(c) Melina Magdalena 2007
Last night at Shabbat, I was sitting at the table with my parents and my children, enjoying peppermint tea and brownies that were still warm from the oven, and deliciously gooey. I mentioned that I had finally found out what happened to the official complaint I had made against my boss in my job that I left six months ago. As I talked about the email exchange in which I was informed that the substance of my complaint was never adequately dealt with because by the time the complaint had reached a stage in the process where it could be raised and discussed, I was no longer an employee of the institution whose Staff Complaints Policy had made it possible for me to make the complaint in the first place, I noticed that my son was making faces, had become tense, and was trying to find a crack in the wall of my verbosity, to chisel his way into the conversation.
"Let me guess", he said cynically, "what you did next. You wrote a letter..."
We all laughed. I was desperate to know where this would go, and tried to get him to tell me, but the others wanted me to finish my story first.
So I told them that indeed I had written a letter to express my valid dissatisfaction with this outcome; that the union to which both I and the person I whose behaviour I had complained about belonged to had opened up this devious method whereby the behaviour would neither be dealt with nor acknowledged, and that I hoped in my new career path that despite the certainty that I will come face-to-face with my ex-boss, I will have the professional strength and integrity not to be victimised again.
I received with a promptness that beggars belief, a most indignant response to my letter from the person who had been originally assigned to deal with my complaint and who has concertedly ignored my every effort over the past six months to ascertain what was being done about it. She suggested I am insensitive and inconsiderate; unable to understand the bereavement she has been going through, and that I ought to respect the need to keep certain things confidential.
I really don't agree that keeping things confidential assists in making the world a better place. I don't agree that not telling me what was going on was the right thing to do. I don't agree that seeking the loophole serves any purpose other than maintaining a shaky status quo.
SO THERE!!!
Finally, I was able to return to the subject of my son's attitude toward my propensity for letter writing. He was simultaneously reluctant and eager to tie me to the post above the flames that were already licking the bare soles of my feet.
"Well," he began, with a brittle tone to his voice, "You know that letter you said you didn't write?"
(which one, asked myself in a silent whisper)
"The one about the cricket trip to Malaysia?"
(Phew - I guessed correctly.)
"Well, that's why I got dropped from the First 11s."
My son, my son. He is crushed, he is proud, he is angry and he is defeated. All this at once. How can he possibly achieve what he wants to with a mother like me?
I pressed for more information. Sure enough, his coach, who previously had talked to me about the very real possibility that my son would be made captain of the team, unceremoniously, with no explanation omitted my son's name from the list of players on the team.
NOW THAT'S JUST NOT CRICKET, IS IT?
It's very clearly my fault, and I feel very badly about it. Why should my son suffer for his mother's big mouth? Especially since the letter I wrote on behalf of myself and the scared, silent parents of players who also could not afford to fund their son's trip to Malaysia to play elite cricket had such a prophetic quality. In the end, I was the only parent who stuck my neck out and said I simply could not condone the proposal on the grounds that it was inequitable. Other parents took a passive approach, pretended to go along with the scheme until the very last minute, when they were honest about their inability to pay for the trip. Their sons are still on the team. Mine is not.
My propensity for letter writing gets me into trouble. It's ironic that when I write letters to promote and protect those close to me, sometimes they get shot down in my place. I don't seek martydom for them, or for myself. But I do seek to stand up and speak out when it's necessary.
So as badly as I feel, and as angry as I am at the petty and unprofessional behaviour of this cricket coach, I don't think I will write to him again. Next time I see him, I shall attempt to have a face-to-face discussion with him about what happened. After all, when I tried to raise my concerns in the meetings that were called about the proposal to send the team to Malaysia, I was dismissed as though I were simply being negative or stingy.
I plan to make a card this weekend, for the Human Resources person whom I offended so greatly this week. It's high time I got my paints out again. I can sense where she's at. She's hurting, grieving deeply, casting about for the source of her distress. Poor thing. It's never easy to lose one's life partner, and I feel bad to be causing her more grief at this time. I'm certain she feels guilty for not being in a position to manoeuvre my complaint through a process that would have led to a more satisfactory outcome.
I make an easy target. After all, I'm getting on with my life and therefore should not be dwelling on the unpleasantness that led to me to my distress eight months ago. It's natural for her to take this out on me. I forgive her.
Sunday, June 10, 2007
the world of the computer nerd?
The world of the computer nerd?
(c) Melina Magdalena 2007
Book review
Anne McCaffrey (1977)
Get off the Unicorn
Corgi Books
I discovered Anne McCaffrey in 1984, when we had just returned to Adelaide after several years of traipsing around the eastern states of Australia. I was an alienated, lonely and frustrated adolescent. The first book I read was Dragonsong (1976), and I was hooked. Sensing a glimmer of hope on the horizon of my teenage angst, my mother lovingly sought out second-hand copies of every McCaffrey novel she could possibly lay her hands on, and my treasure trove gradually expanded. Some of my original copies have been read so many times they have fallen to pieces. I return to them year by year, because reading them leaves me feeling comforted, protected, uplifted and inspired.
I am in awe of many people’s abilities to produce art that enables me to transcend the mundane nature of my everyday life. Songwriters, painters, sculptors and writers are such a special breed of human being. I find McCaffrey one of the best, for transporting me to worlds that feed my imagination.
I like happy endings, and I like stories of people who feel they could be real. I like to take journeys alongside characters who are stepping out of the comfort zones and embracing the possible, despite threats to their identities and their worlds. I like the idea that one person, or a small group of people can make choices that change their world for the better.
I’ve never seriously tried my hand at writing science fiction or fantasy, though it is one of my favourite genres to read. Navigating the everyday realities is challenge enough for me. I for one do not scoff at the ‘science’ component of science fiction, and am endlessly fascinated by the manifestations of scientific possibilities as they are presented by writers of this genre.
Since starting a blog last year, I have occasional moments of feeling naked, having exposed such intimate details of my small life to the whole wide world. I ask myself often whether the idea that someone else might take an interest in what I have to say is what impels me to continue with the blog, or whether it’s inherently satisfying for me to see my words in print no matter who my audience might be.
My musings along this line brought me back to a 1973 short story by McCaffrey “Dull Drums” (found in Get off the Unicorn, 1977). Not being of a scientific bent, I have not researched the research that McCaffrey undoubtedly did, in order to write this story. 1973 seems a long time ago for someone to be writing about a worldwide system of computers that allocated personal space for all of its citizens. Or does that make me naive?
The crux of this story seems to me to be a conflict between computer programmers who are perhaps less socially apt than their counterparts, whose interests lie within the realm of interpersonal relationships. The protagonist, Nora Fenn, has opted to study “CompSci” in order to fulfil her father’s plans for her, rather than choosing “socio-psych dynamics”, which would better suit her.
Nora’s aptitude for understanding other people is exposed when she inadvertently reveals the underlying purpose of the special course in which she has enrolled. She shows up her peers as being shallow, malicious adolescents who take pleasure in ridiculing the private worries and preoccupations of people now long-dead, as these were recorded in their private computer files.
McCaffrey’s point in this story is that people had learned to trust the sanctity of their privacy within an online world. The very fact that they ‘told’ their secrets to their computers proved their trust that they would neither be betrayed by the technology itself, nor by those who control this technology.
I am delighted by McCaffrey’s idea of a conflict between those who are technologically apt and the rest of us. I’ve witnessed many times, the confusion people face when attempting to get assistance from computer technicians who speak a completely different language that reflects their completely different world view, in which the needs and assumptions held as natural by those who require the assistance of computer technicians to make their dreams possible are not recognised or validated by those computer technicians.
Attempts to communicate across these diametrically opposing worldviews can be truly hilarious. This morning I spoke with a friend of mine who told of her grandson’s request for a ‘password’ in order to be able to climb a tree!
It is fascinating to consider why some human beings are able to navigate effortlessly within a realm that can seem so anti-human! Are their brains truly wired differently? Are they born that way? Why is there a group of people so easily designated both within the group and from the outside, as computer nerds?
It is also reassuring to realise that just lately, the term nerd has been transformed from overwhelmingly negative to one that carries just a little bit more respect for the abilities of those so-called. I suppose this speaks of our growing dependence on computers for our social needs and habits.
And in considering myself as a non-nerd who tries to embrace the technology that promises me so much even without demanding that I understand how it works, I wonder why my interactions with the internet have not taken the path posited by McCaffrey. Was it not reasonable to assume that we would fear the openness of the world wide web, and seek to control and limit our exposure by it? If we did view computer nerds as power-monger big-brother types of people to be feared, rather than as brilliant and harmless little boys whose capabilities we can’t quite bring ourselves to admire openly, maybe we would flee the world wide web with screams of terror?
My naivety makes me laugh out loud quite often. I’ll post something without due consideration of consequence, and dangerously assume there will be none. Maybe one day my candour will come back and bite me. I do hope that’s not a prediction though, because blogging is such a lot of fun.
(c) Melina Magdalena 2007
Book review
Anne McCaffrey (1977)
Get off the Unicorn
Corgi Books
I discovered Anne McCaffrey in 1984, when we had just returned to Adelaide after several years of traipsing around the eastern states of Australia. I was an alienated, lonely and frustrated adolescent. The first book I read was Dragonsong (1976), and I was hooked. Sensing a glimmer of hope on the horizon of my teenage angst, my mother lovingly sought out second-hand copies of every McCaffrey novel she could possibly lay her hands on, and my treasure trove gradually expanded. Some of my original copies have been read so many times they have fallen to pieces. I return to them year by year, because reading them leaves me feeling comforted, protected, uplifted and inspired.
I am in awe of many people’s abilities to produce art that enables me to transcend the mundane nature of my everyday life. Songwriters, painters, sculptors and writers are such a special breed of human being. I find McCaffrey one of the best, for transporting me to worlds that feed my imagination.
I like happy endings, and I like stories of people who feel they could be real. I like to take journeys alongside characters who are stepping out of the comfort zones and embracing the possible, despite threats to their identities and their worlds. I like the idea that one person, or a small group of people can make choices that change their world for the better.
I’ve never seriously tried my hand at writing science fiction or fantasy, though it is one of my favourite genres to read. Navigating the everyday realities is challenge enough for me. I for one do not scoff at the ‘science’ component of science fiction, and am endlessly fascinated by the manifestations of scientific possibilities as they are presented by writers of this genre.
Since starting a blog last year, I have occasional moments of feeling naked, having exposed such intimate details of my small life to the whole wide world. I ask myself often whether the idea that someone else might take an interest in what I have to say is what impels me to continue with the blog, or whether it’s inherently satisfying for me to see my words in print no matter who my audience might be.
My musings along this line brought me back to a 1973 short story by McCaffrey “Dull Drums” (found in Get off the Unicorn, 1977). Not being of a scientific bent, I have not researched the research that McCaffrey undoubtedly did, in order to write this story. 1973 seems a long time ago for someone to be writing about a worldwide system of computers that allocated personal space for all of its citizens. Or does that make me naive?
The crux of this story seems to me to be a conflict between computer programmers who are perhaps less socially apt than their counterparts, whose interests lie within the realm of interpersonal relationships. The protagonist, Nora Fenn, has opted to study “CompSci” in order to fulfil her father’s plans for her, rather than choosing “socio-psych dynamics”, which would better suit her.
Nora’s aptitude for understanding other people is exposed when she inadvertently reveals the underlying purpose of the special course in which she has enrolled. She shows up her peers as being shallow, malicious adolescents who take pleasure in ridiculing the private worries and preoccupations of people now long-dead, as these were recorded in their private computer files.
McCaffrey’s point in this story is that people had learned to trust the sanctity of their privacy within an online world. The very fact that they ‘told’ their secrets to their computers proved their trust that they would neither be betrayed by the technology itself, nor by those who control this technology.
I am delighted by McCaffrey’s idea of a conflict between those who are technologically apt and the rest of us. I’ve witnessed many times, the confusion people face when attempting to get assistance from computer technicians who speak a completely different language that reflects their completely different world view, in which the needs and assumptions held as natural by those who require the assistance of computer technicians to make their dreams possible are not recognised or validated by those computer technicians.
Attempts to communicate across these diametrically opposing worldviews can be truly hilarious. This morning I spoke with a friend of mine who told of her grandson’s request for a ‘password’ in order to be able to climb a tree!
It is fascinating to consider why some human beings are able to navigate effortlessly within a realm that can seem so anti-human! Are their brains truly wired differently? Are they born that way? Why is there a group of people so easily designated both within the group and from the outside, as computer nerds?
It is also reassuring to realise that just lately, the term nerd has been transformed from overwhelmingly negative to one that carries just a little bit more respect for the abilities of those so-called. I suppose this speaks of our growing dependence on computers for our social needs and habits.
And in considering myself as a non-nerd who tries to embrace the technology that promises me so much even without demanding that I understand how it works, I wonder why my interactions with the internet have not taken the path posited by McCaffrey. Was it not reasonable to assume that we would fear the openness of the world wide web, and seek to control and limit our exposure by it? If we did view computer nerds as power-monger big-brother types of people to be feared, rather than as brilliant and harmless little boys whose capabilities we can’t quite bring ourselves to admire openly, maybe we would flee the world wide web with screams of terror?
My naivety makes me laugh out loud quite often. I’ll post something without due consideration of consequence, and dangerously assume there will be none. Maybe one day my candour will come back and bite me. I do hope that’s not a prediction though, because blogging is such a lot of fun.
Friday, May 11, 2007
Sperm Donor Adventures: the eighth installment
Sperm Donor Adventures: the eighth installment
The Am I or Aren't I Saga
(c) Melina Magdalena (2007)
Thursday 4 April 2007
Hi Melina and everyone,
Wow, I'm so excited that you may/will be trying in about 7 days. I have felt like I have been on a rollercoaster with you just getting to this point, but I lost track of the story here and there. But I'm glad everything is back on track.
L
Wow Melina, I always feel like i have missed a post with you, things change so quick or do they??? iam always a bit lost with you lol, well goodluck another dream starting its journey. Are you just doing one insemination or a few in that 14 hours????
Fingerscrossed
LL
Hi Melina,
L and I wish you lots of and lots of luck :)
I hope you all had a good Easter and that you'll have fertile and
happy rest of the week!
Lots of love,
D
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Friday 13 April 2007
My whirlwind trip to Sydney on Wednesday was interesting. The donor was really gentle and respectful, because OMG what an awkward situation - he'd obviously developed his own way of communicating the stuff, though this was a first for me. We used mobile phones to 'prank' one another at crucial stages, and went for walks on our own around the neighbourhood while the other was doing his/her thing. It makes me smile, because even here on line I find it hard to articulate any of this.
And anyway I have no feeling either way whether it worked. No desire to run for the wee sticks or count the days. It is all somewhat surreal. Although the day itself was magical. It is amazing to be able to see the sun rise and the sun set and travel across the continent and feel so present, so together, so here and so 'this is right'. Very nice.
Melina
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Saturday 14 April 2007
Hello everyone.. and Melina..
Hey brave grrl.. you did it!! ..you're no longer a bystander .. you jumped and you're free falling.. enjoy the journey.. we're here with ya..
M & R
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Sunday 15 April 2007
More pleasant stuff; congrats Melina on the insemination! ! Am sending fertile thoughts to you.
N
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Monday 16 April 2007
Wow! Congratulations. Easy as that .... I'm inspired!
Melina
Hi everyone...
Just thought we would drop in to keep you updated!
We weren’t going to post until when we had got the definite from the Dr but … I have not yet got my period and it is due!!! We ended up doing 2 pregnancy tests and both have come back with a faint double line!! Me being the sceptical person that I am I have not let myself believe that it is positive, and I will not until I have been to the Dr to have the blood test!
L and D I’m sorry to hear the news. But stay positive and I’m sure it will happen soon. We are thinking of you both.
K & L
Dear D,
I'm sorry to hear your news, and wish you better luck next time. Don't give up! And I hope the period pain clears quickly. I always imagine that this pain is a reminder from my body to me that it wants to grow a baby, so maybe yours is getting some extra practice in preparation for June.
Best wishes,
Melina
Hi everyone,
I took a first response test on Friday (two days before my period was due) and it was negative so I wasn't that surprised when I got my period today. I've been left feeling reflective and glad that at least the 'waiting to know' part is over. - Though of course it would have been better if it had ended with a positive and not a negative.
It does seem cruel that I get my period, which is disappointment enough, but I've also had terrible period pain (talk about adding insult to injury!)
Lots of love,
D
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Thursday 19 April 2007
Hello Everyone,
I'm feeling rather foolish at the moment, but not in a bad way. I'm trying to stop my feelings, because I know I could be left as devastated as any of you if I get the news that I didn't conceive. Not easy, is it?! I can now totally relate to some of people's comments about the assumption that because lesbians go about the conception process with such deliberation, (as opposed to heterosex blind chance:), I fully expect to have conceived on the first go. Which I know in my head is unlikely. But how does one stop those feelings even when one knows that they are likely to leave one feeling worse in the end, and not better? And then on the other hand I am so susceptible to seeing signs in everything that it's so easy to build up my hopes. So it's the old heartstrings and gut instinct versus the head logic I guess. And nothing to do but wait and hope.
Melina
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Friday 20 April 2007
thanks M .... my backache is probably from the gym .... and if not well there's always next month ....
Melina
hey Melina.. hugs.. it’s an anxious time .. waiting.. breathe.. :) m
Hi R,
I feel a bit weird actually. Wonder whether I conceived and miscarried? Too early to know really. Will have to wait another week or so before knowing whether my period comes as usual.
happy weekend,
Melina
Hi C and K,
Good luck from me, too.
I'd forgotten the smell of semen when I did the insemination. Nearly made me gag. At least there are two of you so you can laugh over things like that!
Melina
Hi C & K,
I nearly missed that you had just done an insemination. Finger's crossed for you. You're using a known donor aren't you? That's really good because I think there's a better chance with non-thawed sperm!
Good luck!
D
Hi there K,
wonderful news! hope it keeps going so smoothly. isn't time a strange thing - can it really be 4 weeks already?
Melina
Hi everyone,
Just thought I'd drop in to let you know that we went to the Dr today and he gave us the thumbs up... yes we are pregnant! Oh and Melina... all the best! We have our fingers crossed for you!
K
Hello Everyone,
I really didn't mean to get you down with my posts about gender and fathers and stuff. Sorry about that. It's a fraught issue with me.
This week I read a new book about autism. Having a child with autism is something I've been scared of for a while. I think I'm just gaining some perspective today about the fact that none of us are perfect; we all have our quirks; we all have things to deal with, things to learn and things to teach. I think I'm getting back in touch with what it is to love.
So I do feel inspired and I believe it's a sign that I found you when I did. I also believe it's a sign that I didn't get my period when I didn't, because it caused me to rethink the donor situation. And I will continue to direct loving, protective thoughts to my tummy - I like what you said M, about living in this bubble of possibility. It is DELISH!!
Melina
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Saturday 21 April 2007
Hi
Reading this thread has brought back more than a few revolting memories!! I know at the clinic when we had AI they would give me a sanitary pad to wear after the insemination. I could always smell the sperm smell and would end up getting home and having to shower and remove the panty liner with gloves!! It amazed me how my friends (het) would talk about having sex just before going to work..... I couldn't bear sitting around all day without showering!!!
E
Hey
All the best guys fingers crossed. Now I have to say it does smell doesn’t it, on my first insemination I vomited about 4 times I was in the art gallery and had to run to the toilet,
everything just smelt of it. I had to do draw it up as quick as possible and hold it away and kinda hold my breath. Ha hah I hope no one has a weak stomach, I just had to comment because I thought something was wrong with me, or maybe I just was so not attracted to guys I found the smell really off. lol
L L
Hi everyone
Yes, you're right Melina, we can laugh about it. Last night, K had a running commentary going as she set it all up: "Ooh there's a lot of it tonight, Ack, it's really smelly And quite goobly"
And that's when I said "Ok, that's enough information! " [:o]
When can you test Melina?
Hi there everyone,
I feel vindicated. At least, given all your success stories with using donated sperm, my aversion to semen can't be viewed as a reason that might prevent conception and pregnancy!
Melina
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Tuesday 24 April 2007
Hi Everyone,
I'm scared about being pregnant in front of my adult students. How silly is that? I don't know whether I'd ever feel comfortable coming out to them as a lesbian. As a single mother yes - I am already and they know I've been married and divorced. So this is an impending challenge, as since it's not my first baby I won't be invisibly pregnant until 5 weeks before its birth, (as I was with my first!)
Melina
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Wednesday 25 April 2007
Hi,
Feeling definitely premenstrual - due tomorrow. If no period I'll do a pregnancy test on Friday. Have noticed a pronounced sensitivity to smells, am worried constantly about toxins, am tired, and slightly queasy much of the time. Never got morning sickness with prior pregnancies, but this may also be because I was out of touch with my body sensations. Anyway, just wanted to share this with someone.
Melina
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Thursday 26 April 2007
Hi Melina,
I wish you sooo much luck and hope that darn period stays away :)
Love,
D
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Friday 27 April 2007
Hello all, no pregnancy, no period, I think I must be infertile save for my very fertile imagination.
oh well
ho hum
Melina
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Saturday 28 April 2007
Hi everyone who has reassured me that maybe I shouldn't decide on the basis of one failed insemination that I must be infertile! lol I really appreciate your messages.
I've decided my cycles must be erratic. I've started a new plan to take my temperature every morning and test for ovulation every day. On the other hand, I was so sure I had conceived that I'm not 100% about having mistimed the last insemination. But still no period which could mean (a) no ovulation this cycle or (b) longer cycle this time around. Which makes me think I could be ovulating any day now. But my donor lives in Sydney, so if I happen to be ovulating, I might have to fall back on the phantom plan of propositioning the good-looking Greek guy in the mobile phone store for some sperm and taking a chance he's as healthy as he looks (it's a phantasy people not a plan of action!).
It does feel better to have a plan I can start on.
thanks again,
Melina
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Sunday 29 April 2007
Hello
Sorry for my obsession with this, but I have nowhere else to express my anxieties or exhilarations. Tedious for readers perhaps ... ?
Still no period. I talked to my sister yesterday and did another pregnancy test today. The box I bought said it had 3, but seems to have 5. My sister recommends that if I'm not pregnant I should see a herbalist and get some herbs to regulate my cycle. One she mentioned is Chaste Tree, which apparently was used by monks in an effort to curb their libido. It has the opposite effect on women in terms of maintaining and promoting fertility. :)
I'm trying not to be anxious. But I feel a little down. So I googled "Late confirmation of pregnancy". I was wondering
a) maybe my body doesn't produce enough of the hormone to be detectable or
b) maybe I'm just not pregnant?
And I found a link.
I read through the information which discounts the claim on home pregnancy tests that they are 99% accurate 2-5 days before the missed period. It says that the levels of the pregnancy hormone are OFTEN undetectable before a week after a missed period.
Of course now that I have found some reason for renewed hope (which is admittedly a better possible prognosis than peri menopause at 37 years of age), I'll probably relax enough to let my body begin to menstruate.
Or maybe not.
I won't be holding my breath.
Melina
Hello everyone.. and Melina
..you poor chook.. i know what that is like.. wanting something really badly.. and not being sure if your judgement is off cos you really really want it to be the case....and you are there on your own.. ok..
..some clarity q's..
- is your period usually regular.. ?? Y/N
(weren’t you charting your cycle b4 you finally inseminated. . i seem to recall)
-what date did you calculate that your period was due ??
..you know.. some clinics don’t rely on home pregnancy tests at all.. I have a work mate who is the same no. of weeks as our L.. and she was told to wait till she missed a period and then book in for a test..
-its pointless at this point to ask you do you have any signs.. cos your head is in a spin... again.. i so know that feeling.. (not now anymore.. but I've been there)..
hugs.. M
Thanks so for your responses (glad you're online!)...
I just went for a big walk in this lovely lovely rain and feel somewhat better. I don't do inactivity well at all. Anyway, I realised it's not so much a case of wishful thinking (though if I did turn out to be pregnant and the baby was healthy what a bonus that would be!). I keep thinking of Mel in "Queer As Folk" who inseminated once and kept getting negative pregnancy tests but kept on keeping on until the test confirmed what she knew. So not so much wishful thinking as I wish SOMETHING would happen to let me know either way, because then I could keep going. I feel like I'm spinning in space, unable to break the inertia. So I'll continue to take my vitamins and minerals; I'll continue to chart my cycle (mucous, temp etc.) and see where the journey takes me next.
Melina
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Monday 30 April 2007
Hi Melina,
There is nothing worse than being in the limbo, you just need to know, so you can either jump with joy and continue with the knowledge of a confirmed pregnancy or allow your self to grieve for a moment with the knowledge of a confirmed non pregnancy. Anything else is just plain torture.
I had a false negative pregnancy test with S but I have also had many negatives with lots of symptoms and late period.
I once read women have a lot more miscarriages than are report because often they happen so early that they are a period. So I have a sneaky suspicion that many of use have tiny two minute pregnancies just don't continue but give us late periods, so not all of it is in our heads although probably most of the time it is.
I hope you get a confirmation of a beautifully healthy baby.
And also if you need to or haven't done so already, you could go to the local doctor and say that your trying to get pregnant and you want some tests done for iron levels and also a blood test (sorry don't know what its called) that tells you whether your ovulating, I think its done on day 25 or something. Or any test that the Dr recommends giving you some better ideas. It just might be a cost efficient way to get some basic tests done. Iron levels are extremely important, if your iron levels are low, you body will not allow a pregnancy.
I don't think you have fertility problems and yes you do have a fertile imagination. My prognosis is "all or nothing thinking". ie, If First time pregnancy attempt doesn't work, your mind goes straight to early menopause : )
Hoping it all turns out well
L
Thank you lovely,
I can see you know exactly where I'm at, at the moment, and have been there... What you say about tiny two-minute pregnancies is something I can sense as well. What I don't quite understand is the mechanics of how that translates to a later period. I think I shall get myself checked out medically and herbally. It can't hurt!
Melina
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Friday 4 May 2007
Hi
You asked about my state of play - I appreciate that, as I've been lying low and sometimes feel somewhat invisible on here! I told myself I wouldn't test again for a week, so that was today. And after dreaming vivid dreams of two thin pink lines, there was still only one, so I really am not pregnant unless the tests themselves are faulty!
I was all set after the negative test this morning to call the doctor and get a blood test instead, but then I looked back at my charting and discovered that although my cycles from October to March were regular 26-day cycles, my March-April cycle was 35 days. I'm now on day 34, still no period, so I'll wait for it tomorrow.
As for how I feel - I really did feel pregnant for about a week. And maybe I was and lost the baby/foetus/possibility. Lately, I haven't felt quite the same. I like the idea of being pregnant, but I'm not nauseous at all and have no other symptoms.
If my period doesn't come soon, I will go to the doctor.
In the meantime, here is my vitamin regime (I'm so glad I don't have to take all those medications, but it would be ironic if I got diagnosed with something like PCOS and ended up on them. I can't imagine much worse than that...)
MORNING 2 x Blackmores pregnancy and breastfeeding, 2 x 500mg Vitamin E, 2 x Super Vitamin C / EVENING 2 x Caltrate Plus, 1 x Zinc+B6, 2 x Super Vitamin C
The changing cycle stuff could be, I suppose, a reaction to this newish regime (I'm paying more attention to in than previously when it was a little sporadic). The first missed period was last year during my fitness program, and I thought it was triggered by increased activity.
By the way, all this so called fitness and I haven't lost an ounce of weight. Yes, I'm sure I still eat too much, but I do feel far fitter and healthier for it. Sadly, thought, I haven't managed to go to the gym once this week!
Enough information.
Melina
Hello Lovelies …
,,, Melina you’re an amazing woman, and an awesome writer, and one day some very smart woman is going to come along and snap you up! But it’s so great to be happy on your own, because then when a relation ship comes, it’s a bonus.
So much more I could say. Lots of emotions these last few days – hopes and fears and disappointments, deep sadness and even deeper joys. Goddess blessings to all, for fertility, for relationships, for satisfaction and fulfilment, courage for the journey, rest for the weary, and hears ease for the grieving. You’re all awesome women, and it’s a privilege to share the journey with you all.
Much love,
S
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Saturday 5 May 2007
Hey chickens,
Sorry I haven’t been able to reply as much either, as M said, it’s one of those times for me … but I am still reading every post and thinking of you all … especially you Melina … you are very present here my sweets ….
hey guys I just wanted to say hi, I am reading the posts but not replying, you are all in my thought and Melina a big hug to you girl xo
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Good morning, I have no time to write today, but wanted you to know how much your messages mean to me - thank you. here I go....hope you all have a good one... I'll check in later...
(still no period, and I believe I may be pregnant)
Melina
Sunday 6 May 2007
Hello everyone.. and Melina...
..ok Ms Muffin.. you cant just sign off with "believe i may be pregnant" .. please explain :)
M
...w...e...l...l...
a few things made me sign off that way.
:-)
1) If I commit either way the opposite will happen (magical thinking)
2) Thinking about the PCOS and arthritis discussions, I realised I'm able to tolerate bread, which is something I don't eat much of normally and that I ate a lot of whilst pregnant and married, so this is an anomaly (dietary change)
3) Remembering the weird session I had in the gym the week after the insemination, it felt as though I were being communicated with to say - hey if you don't stop all this jumping around, I'm going to find it very very hard to hold on and stay. I stopped jumping around. Then on the Friday I got a bad backache and thought this was somehow an adverse reaction to conception and whatever you call that time when the new being lodges itself in the uterus, but it was purely and simply a bad back from overdoing a particular exercise, so maybe stopping jumping around did the trick, I don't know! (strange unexplainable spiritual leanings)
I will go and see a doctor on Wednesday. But now I feel like as soon as I make the appointment, my period will start! So I'm telling myself that I'd need to see a doctor either way, because if I'm pregnant and the hormone is not showing up on the urine test perhaps there's something wrong, and if I'm not pregnant and my cycle is all messed up I need to get that sorted out, too.
but anyway my period has not started, and while I've had waves of sensations that are kind of menstrual like, they have come and gone very quickly. I was teary yesterday for many reasons, and normally would bleed that day, but I didn't. I may still bleed... if I do, it's not the end of the world, even though I openly committed myself to my wish
I will let you know!
Melina
............ sorry for your news, C & K .......... virtual hugs and hopes for next month's timing, hey? ............
Melina
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Wednesday 9 May 2007
Hi Everyone,
Weird things are happening around me. My car wouldn't start Monday night when it had run perfectly all day, and I got to spend a relaxing though productive evening alone, rather than go to a forgotten meeting out of duty. Then this morning I woke at 3:30 anxiously, finally got up around 5 and spent an hour trying to get the computer to work, to no avail. Left it in peace until just now, and now it suddenly works again.
Which is just as well, because I've been anxious to let you know what's been happening with me. (I hope L wasn't logging in from work all day hoping to get news the universe wouldn't let me post! :-)
I am probably not pregnant.
If I were pregnant, it would probably show up on the wee tests, but it doesn’t.
However, I still could be pregnant.
I was reassured when I saw another doctor today - I squeezed into a cancellation after a demoralising visit to an unsympathetic patronising old geezer yesterday after work - and was able to ask questions such as
- am I having a phantom pregnancy? (possibly)
- if the pregnancy were ectopic, would it still show up on the wee test? (yes)
- shouldn't it be showing up already? (yes)
- is there still a possibility I'm pregnant? (yes)
- how will I know? (only time will tell)
- if I am pregnant and it's not showing up, does that mean there's probably something seriously wrong? (there is no correlation)
it's so bloody frustrating!!!!!!!!
Anyway, I have not given up hope. The doctor this morning wrote me a form to get my blood work done, and suggests I do that next week if my period still hasn't come. She also checked my urine this morning for blood, but there was none. She said that if I'm not pregnant, I can only wait for my period, and that it will probably be extra extra heavy, due to the length between cycles and the possibility that if I get a period now it will also be a miscarriage.
Not the most cheery of news, and inconclusivity never sits well, but what can I do, but settle back and enjoy my phantom pregnancy. And if, after 9 months, all I hatch out is a little imaginary spirit baby, at least my body will have had a rest from the painful relentless heavy bleeding it normally has to endure, and I may have saved a few dollars on sanitary pads! LOL
Melina
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Thursday May 10 2007
hi Melina......I'm going with your....'I still could be pregnant'...statement until proven otherwise......after all pregnancy does different things to us...
...hope you have a peaceful day......hugs...
A
Hey L,
you and me both!
I don't want to make a call either way.
thanks
Melina
Oh Melina,
I read your message at the bottom of this post. Your baby be it real or phantom is driving me CRAZY (Again in the nicest possible way) : ) I can only imagine what you must be going through. I'm still hoping for you. Waiting on the edge of my seat. Praying to the Universe for you.
Chin up Melina and soldier on.
L
Ohhh Melina, that all sounds so frustrating for you. Is it possible just to tell the damn Dr to shut up and do a blood test so you can know asap...
LL
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Friday 11 May 2007
What wonderful news!
Our news is that we found out on Tuesday that we're having... A GIRL!!!
She's doing great - correct size for dates …
K & S
Hello friends …
Today was our special day to receive some good news...we are so thrilled...I just cant explain it... The results were meant to come around 2pm, when they rang and said there would be a delay....it was so hard to wait, I felt so sick, so we went for a long walk. Just as we arrived we got the call... S's hormone levels are very high, so they suspect twins, but cant say for sure...
Thank you so much my friends for all being so great...its still early days for us...so we are only telling a few close friends...(which includes all of you!!) BIG SMILES over here...thinking of Melina and L and R and everyone wanting babies in their lives.... just keep the faith...
L & S xx
Dear E,
Thanks for your support. Your messages are always so thoughtful! And it's now Friday morning and I was "sure" my period was starting last night but it DIDN'T. I feel ridiculous really, but it is more fun to be able to share it all on here. Sorry to put you all in the most excruciating of spectator ringside seats.... LOL
Melina
Hi Melina,
This wait is absolutely excruciating for me so I don't know how you are doing it!!
Fingers crossed that it is the outcome you are hoping for.
E
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Saturday 12 May 2007
hello everyone.. and Melina
We are thinking of you grrl... be brave.. when will ya know the results..??
M (& R)
Dear K And S And Baby Girl,
What special news. This has been a night of double-blessings.
Congratulations.
Melina - blood test this morningHello All,
I went to Gribbles this morning for blood tests, but results won't be known before Tuesday. I'll call my doctor Wednesday to be on the safe side. How it's d _ _ _r _ _ _a _ _ _ g _ _ _g _ _ _i _ _ _n _ _ _g. So anyway before I woke up this morning I had an unusual kind of dream (for me) involving another woman and thought - well this is interesting. What does this mean? Who is she? What is she doing in my life? And then I thought - does this mean I'm about to start my period???? LOL
It seems everything I see and hear and taste and smell and feel is some kind of indication either way.
I can tell you I felt a whole lot better this morning after driving home and gobbling down two bananas while waiting for the kettle to boil and making cinnamon toast. Needing something in my stomach these days ....
So what does that mean? ! ? ! ? !
Melina
The Am I or Aren't I Saga
(c) Melina Magdalena (2007)
Thursday 4 April 2007
Hi Melina and everyone,
Wow, I'm so excited that you may/will be trying in about 7 days. I have felt like I have been on a rollercoaster with you just getting to this point, but I lost track of the story here and there. But I'm glad everything is back on track.
L
Wow Melina, I always feel like i have missed a post with you, things change so quick or do they??? iam always a bit lost with you lol, well goodluck another dream starting its journey. Are you just doing one insemination or a few in that 14 hours????
Fingerscrossed
LL
Hi Melina,
L and I wish you lots of and lots of luck :)
I hope you all had a good Easter and that you'll have fertile and
happy rest of the week!
Lots of love,
D
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Friday 13 April 2007
My whirlwind trip to Sydney on Wednesday was interesting. The donor was really gentle and respectful, because OMG what an awkward situation - he'd obviously developed his own way of communicating the stuff, though this was a first for me. We used mobile phones to 'prank' one another at crucial stages, and went for walks on our own around the neighbourhood while the other was doing his/her thing. It makes me smile, because even here on line I find it hard to articulate any of this.
And anyway I have no feeling either way whether it worked. No desire to run for the wee sticks or count the days. It is all somewhat surreal. Although the day itself was magical. It is amazing to be able to see the sun rise and the sun set and travel across the continent and feel so present, so together, so here and so 'this is right'. Very nice.
Melina
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Saturday 14 April 2007
Hello everyone.. and Melina..
Hey brave grrl.. you did it!! ..you're no longer a bystander .. you jumped and you're free falling.. enjoy the journey.. we're here with ya..
M & R
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Sunday 15 April 2007
More pleasant stuff; congrats Melina on the insemination! ! Am sending fertile thoughts to you.
N
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Monday 16 April 2007
Wow! Congratulations. Easy as that .... I'm inspired!
Melina
Hi everyone...
Just thought we would drop in to keep you updated!
We weren’t going to post until when we had got the definite from the Dr but … I have not yet got my period and it is due!!! We ended up doing 2 pregnancy tests and both have come back with a faint double line!! Me being the sceptical person that I am I have not let myself believe that it is positive, and I will not until I have been to the Dr to have the blood test!
L and D I’m sorry to hear the news. But stay positive and I’m sure it will happen soon. We are thinking of you both.
K & L
Dear D,
I'm sorry to hear your news, and wish you better luck next time. Don't give up! And I hope the period pain clears quickly. I always imagine that this pain is a reminder from my body to me that it wants to grow a baby, so maybe yours is getting some extra practice in preparation for June.
Best wishes,
Melina
Hi everyone,
I took a first response test on Friday (two days before my period was due) and it was negative so I wasn't that surprised when I got my period today. I've been left feeling reflective and glad that at least the 'waiting to know' part is over. - Though of course it would have been better if it had ended with a positive and not a negative.
It does seem cruel that I get my period, which is disappointment enough, but I've also had terrible period pain (talk about adding insult to injury!)
Lots of love,
D
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Thursday 19 April 2007
Hello Everyone,
I'm feeling rather foolish at the moment, but not in a bad way. I'm trying to stop my feelings, because I know I could be left as devastated as any of you if I get the news that I didn't conceive. Not easy, is it?! I can now totally relate to some of people's comments about the assumption that because lesbians go about the conception process with such deliberation, (as opposed to heterosex blind chance:), I fully expect to have conceived on the first go. Which I know in my head is unlikely. But how does one stop those feelings even when one knows that they are likely to leave one feeling worse in the end, and not better? And then on the other hand I am so susceptible to seeing signs in everything that it's so easy to build up my hopes. So it's the old heartstrings and gut instinct versus the head logic I guess. And nothing to do but wait and hope.
Melina
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Friday 20 April 2007
thanks M .... my backache is probably from the gym .... and if not well there's always next month ....
Melina
hey Melina.. hugs.. it’s an anxious time .. waiting.. breathe.. :) m
Hi R,
I feel a bit weird actually. Wonder whether I conceived and miscarried? Too early to know really. Will have to wait another week or so before knowing whether my period comes as usual.
happy weekend,
Melina
Hi C and K,
Good luck from me, too.
I'd forgotten the smell of semen when I did the insemination. Nearly made me gag. At least there are two of you so you can laugh over things like that!
Melina
Hi C & K,
I nearly missed that you had just done an insemination. Finger's crossed for you. You're using a known donor aren't you? That's really good because I think there's a better chance with non-thawed sperm!
Good luck!
D
Hi there K,
wonderful news! hope it keeps going so smoothly. isn't time a strange thing - can it really be 4 weeks already?
Melina
Hi everyone,
Just thought I'd drop in to let you know that we went to the Dr today and he gave us the thumbs up... yes we are pregnant! Oh and Melina... all the best! We have our fingers crossed for you!
K
Hello Everyone,
I really didn't mean to get you down with my posts about gender and fathers and stuff. Sorry about that. It's a fraught issue with me.
This week I read a new book about autism. Having a child with autism is something I've been scared of for a while. I think I'm just gaining some perspective today about the fact that none of us are perfect; we all have our quirks; we all have things to deal with, things to learn and things to teach. I think I'm getting back in touch with what it is to love.
So I do feel inspired and I believe it's a sign that I found you when I did. I also believe it's a sign that I didn't get my period when I didn't, because it caused me to rethink the donor situation. And I will continue to direct loving, protective thoughts to my tummy - I like what you said M, about living in this bubble of possibility. It is DELISH!!
Melina
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Saturday 21 April 2007
Hi
Reading this thread has brought back more than a few revolting memories!! I know at the clinic when we had AI they would give me a sanitary pad to wear after the insemination. I could always smell the sperm smell and would end up getting home and having to shower and remove the panty liner with gloves!! It amazed me how my friends (het) would talk about having sex just before going to work..... I couldn't bear sitting around all day without showering!!!
E
Hey
All the best guys fingers crossed. Now I have to say it does smell doesn’t it, on my first insemination I vomited about 4 times I was in the art gallery and had to run to the toilet,
everything just smelt of it. I had to do draw it up as quick as possible and hold it away and kinda hold my breath. Ha hah I hope no one has a weak stomach, I just had to comment because I thought something was wrong with me, or maybe I just was so not attracted to guys I found the smell really off. lol
L L
Hi everyone
Yes, you're right Melina, we can laugh about it. Last night, K had a running commentary going as she set it all up: "Ooh there's a lot of it tonight, Ack, it's really smelly And quite goobly"
And that's when I said "Ok, that's enough information! " [:o]
When can you test Melina?
Hi there everyone,
I feel vindicated. At least, given all your success stories with using donated sperm, my aversion to semen can't be viewed as a reason that might prevent conception and pregnancy!
Melina
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Tuesday 24 April 2007
Hi Everyone,
I'm scared about being pregnant in front of my adult students. How silly is that? I don't know whether I'd ever feel comfortable coming out to them as a lesbian. As a single mother yes - I am already and they know I've been married and divorced. So this is an impending challenge, as since it's not my first baby I won't be invisibly pregnant until 5 weeks before its birth, (as I was with my first!)
Melina
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Wednesday 25 April 2007
Hi,
Feeling definitely premenstrual - due tomorrow. If no period I'll do a pregnancy test on Friday. Have noticed a pronounced sensitivity to smells, am worried constantly about toxins, am tired, and slightly queasy much of the time. Never got morning sickness with prior pregnancies, but this may also be because I was out of touch with my body sensations. Anyway, just wanted to share this with someone.
Melina
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Thursday 26 April 2007
Hi Melina,
I wish you sooo much luck and hope that darn period stays away :)
Love,
D
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Friday 27 April 2007
Hello all, no pregnancy, no period, I think I must be infertile save for my very fertile imagination.
oh well
ho hum
Melina
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Saturday 28 April 2007
Hi everyone who has reassured me that maybe I shouldn't decide on the basis of one failed insemination that I must be infertile! lol I really appreciate your messages.
I've decided my cycles must be erratic. I've started a new plan to take my temperature every morning and test for ovulation every day. On the other hand, I was so sure I had conceived that I'm not 100% about having mistimed the last insemination. But still no period which could mean (a) no ovulation this cycle or (b) longer cycle this time around. Which makes me think I could be ovulating any day now. But my donor lives in Sydney, so if I happen to be ovulating, I might have to fall back on the phantom plan of propositioning the good-looking Greek guy in the mobile phone store for some sperm and taking a chance he's as healthy as he looks (it's a phantasy people not a plan of action!).
It does feel better to have a plan I can start on.
thanks again,
Melina
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Sunday 29 April 2007
Hello
Sorry for my obsession with this, but I have nowhere else to express my anxieties or exhilarations. Tedious for readers perhaps ... ?
Still no period. I talked to my sister yesterday and did another pregnancy test today. The box I bought said it had 3, but seems to have 5. My sister recommends that if I'm not pregnant I should see a herbalist and get some herbs to regulate my cycle. One she mentioned is Chaste Tree, which apparently was used by monks in an effort to curb their libido. It has the opposite effect on women in terms of maintaining and promoting fertility. :)
I'm trying not to be anxious. But I feel a little down. So I googled "Late confirmation of pregnancy". I was wondering
a) maybe my body doesn't produce enough of the hormone to be detectable or
b) maybe I'm just not pregnant?
And I found a link.
I read through the information which discounts the claim on home pregnancy tests that they are 99% accurate 2-5 days before the missed period. It says that the levels of the pregnancy hormone are OFTEN undetectable before a week after a missed period.
Of course now that I have found some reason for renewed hope (which is admittedly a better possible prognosis than peri menopause at 37 years of age), I'll probably relax enough to let my body begin to menstruate.
Or maybe not.
I won't be holding my breath.
Melina
Hello everyone.. and Melina
..you poor chook.. i know what that is like.. wanting something really badly.. and not being sure if your judgement is off cos you really really want it to be the case....and you are there on your own.. ok..
..some clarity q's..
- is your period usually regular.. ?? Y/N
(weren’t you charting your cycle b4 you finally inseminated. . i seem to recall)
-what date did you calculate that your period was due ??
..you know.. some clinics don’t rely on home pregnancy tests at all.. I have a work mate who is the same no. of weeks as our L.. and she was told to wait till she missed a period and then book in for a test..
-its pointless at this point to ask you do you have any signs.. cos your head is in a spin... again.. i so know that feeling.. (not now anymore.. but I've been there)..
hugs.. M
Thanks so for your responses (glad you're online!)...
I just went for a big walk in this lovely lovely rain and feel somewhat better. I don't do inactivity well at all. Anyway, I realised it's not so much a case of wishful thinking (though if I did turn out to be pregnant and the baby was healthy what a bonus that would be!). I keep thinking of Mel in "Queer As Folk" who inseminated once and kept getting negative pregnancy tests but kept on keeping on until the test confirmed what she knew. So not so much wishful thinking as I wish SOMETHING would happen to let me know either way, because then I could keep going. I feel like I'm spinning in space, unable to break the inertia. So I'll continue to take my vitamins and minerals; I'll continue to chart my cycle (mucous, temp etc.) and see where the journey takes me next.
Melina
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Monday 30 April 2007
Hi Melina,
There is nothing worse than being in the limbo, you just need to know, so you can either jump with joy and continue with the knowledge of a confirmed pregnancy or allow your self to grieve for a moment with the knowledge of a confirmed non pregnancy. Anything else is just plain torture.
I had a false negative pregnancy test with S but I have also had many negatives with lots of symptoms and late period.
I once read women have a lot more miscarriages than are report because often they happen so early that they are a period. So I have a sneaky suspicion that many of use have tiny two minute pregnancies just don't continue but give us late periods, so not all of it is in our heads although probably most of the time it is.
I hope you get a confirmation of a beautifully healthy baby.
And also if you need to or haven't done so already, you could go to the local doctor and say that your trying to get pregnant and you want some tests done for iron levels and also a blood test (sorry don't know what its called) that tells you whether your ovulating, I think its done on day 25 or something. Or any test that the Dr recommends giving you some better ideas. It just might be a cost efficient way to get some basic tests done. Iron levels are extremely important, if your iron levels are low, you body will not allow a pregnancy.
I don't think you have fertility problems and yes you do have a fertile imagination. My prognosis is "all or nothing thinking". ie, If First time pregnancy attempt doesn't work, your mind goes straight to early menopause : )
Hoping it all turns out well
L
Thank you lovely,
I can see you know exactly where I'm at, at the moment, and have been there... What you say about tiny two-minute pregnancies is something I can sense as well. What I don't quite understand is the mechanics of how that translates to a later period. I think I shall get myself checked out medically and herbally. It can't hurt!
Melina
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Friday 4 May 2007
Hi
You asked about my state of play - I appreciate that, as I've been lying low and sometimes feel somewhat invisible on here! I told myself I wouldn't test again for a week, so that was today. And after dreaming vivid dreams of two thin pink lines, there was still only one, so I really am not pregnant unless the tests themselves are faulty!
I was all set after the negative test this morning to call the doctor and get a blood test instead, but then I looked back at my charting and discovered that although my cycles from October to March were regular 26-day cycles, my March-April cycle was 35 days. I'm now on day 34, still no period, so I'll wait for it tomorrow.
As for how I feel - I really did feel pregnant for about a week. And maybe I was and lost the baby/foetus/possibility. Lately, I haven't felt quite the same. I like the idea of being pregnant, but I'm not nauseous at all and have no other symptoms.
If my period doesn't come soon, I will go to the doctor.
In the meantime, here is my vitamin regime (I'm so glad I don't have to take all those medications, but it would be ironic if I got diagnosed with something like PCOS and ended up on them. I can't imagine much worse than that...)
MORNING 2 x Blackmores pregnancy and breastfeeding, 2 x 500mg Vitamin E, 2 x Super Vitamin C / EVENING 2 x Caltrate Plus, 1 x Zinc+B6, 2 x Super Vitamin C
The changing cycle stuff could be, I suppose, a reaction to this newish regime (I'm paying more attention to in than previously when it was a little sporadic). The first missed period was last year during my fitness program, and I thought it was triggered by increased activity.
By the way, all this so called fitness and I haven't lost an ounce of weight. Yes, I'm sure I still eat too much, but I do feel far fitter and healthier for it. Sadly, thought, I haven't managed to go to the gym once this week!
Enough information.
Melina
Hello Lovelies …
,,, Melina you’re an amazing woman, and an awesome writer, and one day some very smart woman is going to come along and snap you up! But it’s so great to be happy on your own, because then when a relation ship comes, it’s a bonus.
So much more I could say. Lots of emotions these last few days – hopes and fears and disappointments, deep sadness and even deeper joys. Goddess blessings to all, for fertility, for relationships, for satisfaction and fulfilment, courage for the journey, rest for the weary, and hears ease for the grieving. You’re all awesome women, and it’s a privilege to share the journey with you all.
Much love,
S
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Saturday 5 May 2007
Hey chickens,
Sorry I haven’t been able to reply as much either, as M said, it’s one of those times for me … but I am still reading every post and thinking of you all … especially you Melina … you are very present here my sweets ….
hey guys I just wanted to say hi, I am reading the posts but not replying, you are all in my thought and Melina a big hug to you girl xo
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Good morning, I have no time to write today, but wanted you to know how much your messages mean to me - thank you. here I go....hope you all have a good one... I'll check in later...
(still no period, and I believe I may be pregnant)
Melina
Sunday 6 May 2007
Hello everyone.. and Melina...
..ok Ms Muffin.. you cant just sign off with "believe i may be pregnant" .. please explain :)
M
...w...e...l...l...
a few things made me sign off that way.
:-)
1) If I commit either way the opposite will happen (magical thinking)
2) Thinking about the PCOS and arthritis discussions, I realised I'm able to tolerate bread, which is something I don't eat much of normally and that I ate a lot of whilst pregnant and married, so this is an anomaly (dietary change)
3) Remembering the weird session I had in the gym the week after the insemination, it felt as though I were being communicated with to say - hey if you don't stop all this jumping around, I'm going to find it very very hard to hold on and stay. I stopped jumping around. Then on the Friday I got a bad backache and thought this was somehow an adverse reaction to conception and whatever you call that time when the new being lodges itself in the uterus, but it was purely and simply a bad back from overdoing a particular exercise, so maybe stopping jumping around did the trick, I don't know! (strange unexplainable spiritual leanings)
I will go and see a doctor on Wednesday. But now I feel like as soon as I make the appointment, my period will start! So I'm telling myself that I'd need to see a doctor either way, because if I'm pregnant and the hormone is not showing up on the urine test perhaps there's something wrong, and if I'm not pregnant and my cycle is all messed up I need to get that sorted out, too.
but anyway my period has not started, and while I've had waves of sensations that are kind of menstrual like, they have come and gone very quickly. I was teary yesterday for many reasons, and normally would bleed that day, but I didn't. I may still bleed... if I do, it's not the end of the world, even though I openly committed myself to my wish
I will let you know!
Melina
............ sorry for your news, C & K .......... virtual hugs and hopes for next month's timing, hey? ............
Melina
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Wednesday 9 May 2007
Hi Everyone,
Weird things are happening around me. My car wouldn't start Monday night when it had run perfectly all day, and I got to spend a relaxing though productive evening alone, rather than go to a forgotten meeting out of duty. Then this morning I woke at 3:30 anxiously, finally got up around 5 and spent an hour trying to get the computer to work, to no avail. Left it in peace until just now, and now it suddenly works again.
Which is just as well, because I've been anxious to let you know what's been happening with me. (I hope L wasn't logging in from work all day hoping to get news the universe wouldn't let me post! :-)
I am probably not pregnant.
If I were pregnant, it would probably show up on the wee tests, but it doesn’t.
However, I still could be pregnant.
I was reassured when I saw another doctor today - I squeezed into a cancellation after a demoralising visit to an unsympathetic patronising old geezer yesterday after work - and was able to ask questions such as
- am I having a phantom pregnancy? (possibly)
- if the pregnancy were ectopic, would it still show up on the wee test? (yes)
- shouldn't it be showing up already? (yes)
- is there still a possibility I'm pregnant? (yes)
- how will I know? (only time will tell)
- if I am pregnant and it's not showing up, does that mean there's probably something seriously wrong? (there is no correlation)
it's so bloody frustrating!!!!!!!!
Anyway, I have not given up hope. The doctor this morning wrote me a form to get my blood work done, and suggests I do that next week if my period still hasn't come. She also checked my urine this morning for blood, but there was none. She said that if I'm not pregnant, I can only wait for my period, and that it will probably be extra extra heavy, due to the length between cycles and the possibility that if I get a period now it will also be a miscarriage.
Not the most cheery of news, and inconclusivity never sits well, but what can I do, but settle back and enjoy my phantom pregnancy. And if, after 9 months, all I hatch out is a little imaginary spirit baby, at least my body will have had a rest from the painful relentless heavy bleeding it normally has to endure, and I may have saved a few dollars on sanitary pads! LOL
Melina
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Thursday May 10 2007
hi Melina......I'm going with your....'I still could be pregnant'...statement until proven otherwise......after all pregnancy does different things to us...
...hope you have a peaceful day......hugs...
A
Hey L,
you and me both!
I don't want to make a call either way.
thanks
Melina
Oh Melina,
I read your message at the bottom of this post. Your baby be it real or phantom is driving me CRAZY (Again in the nicest possible way) : ) I can only imagine what you must be going through. I'm still hoping for you. Waiting on the edge of my seat. Praying to the Universe for you.
Chin up Melina and soldier on.
L
Ohhh Melina, that all sounds so frustrating for you. Is it possible just to tell the damn Dr to shut up and do a blood test so you can know asap...
LL
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Friday 11 May 2007
What wonderful news!
Our news is that we found out on Tuesday that we're having... A GIRL!!!
She's doing great - correct size for dates …
K & S
Hello friends …
Today was our special day to receive some good news...we are so thrilled...I just cant explain it... The results were meant to come around 2pm, when they rang and said there would be a delay....it was so hard to wait, I felt so sick, so we went for a long walk. Just as we arrived we got the call... S's hormone levels are very high, so they suspect twins, but cant say for sure...
Thank you so much my friends for all being so great...its still early days for us...so we are only telling a few close friends...(which includes all of you!!) BIG SMILES over here...thinking of Melina and L and R and everyone wanting babies in their lives.... just keep the faith...
L & S xx
Dear E,
Thanks for your support. Your messages are always so thoughtful! And it's now Friday morning and I was "sure" my period was starting last night but it DIDN'T. I feel ridiculous really, but it is more fun to be able to share it all on here. Sorry to put you all in the most excruciating of spectator ringside seats.... LOL
Melina
Hi Melina,
This wait is absolutely excruciating for me so I don't know how you are doing it!!
Fingers crossed that it is the outcome you are hoping for.
E
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Saturday 12 May 2007
hello everyone.. and Melina
We are thinking of you grrl... be brave.. when will ya know the results..??
M (& R)
Dear K And S And Baby Girl,
What special news. This has been a night of double-blessings.
Congratulations.
Melina - blood test this morningHello All,
I went to Gribbles this morning for blood tests, but results won't be known before Tuesday. I'll call my doctor Wednesday to be on the safe side. How it's d _ _ _r _ _ _a _ _ _ g _ _ _g _ _ _i _ _ _n _ _ _g. So anyway before I woke up this morning I had an unusual kind of dream (for me) involving another woman and thought - well this is interesting. What does this mean? Who is she? What is she doing in my life? And then I thought - does this mean I'm about to start my period???? LOL
It seems everything I see and hear and taste and smell and feel is some kind of indication either way.
I can tell you I felt a whole lot better this morning after driving home and gobbling down two bananas while waiting for the kettle to boil and making cinnamon toast. Needing something in my stomach these days ....
So what does that mean? ! ? ! ? !
Melina
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