There are remarkable similarities between myself and one of my students that really only hit me last week. And when I say 'hit me', I mean it. Hard. Like a slap in the face. And I don't think I really needed it that day, or last week, for that matter.
"She is the most talented thing on that stage right now" said my boss during a theatre rehearsal last year. And I absolutely agreed with her in saying that. This kid was by far the most talented student up there, and we all had visions of her working professionally for companies all around the world. Now that vision has come shattering down around us, and we're left to pick up our own hopes and dreams off the floor.
Ironically, those same words were once used to describe me 10 years ago. And I don't mean that in an arrogant way, but it just resonates so loudly in my head that it was once me. I threw it all away for the very same reasons as this girl has. And it is heart breaking. Knowing I got so far, only to turn my back on it is unequivocally my biggest regret. A deep, heart-breaking regret, and I cannot go back and do anything about it. I can only wish that my students don't make the same mistake that I did... giving it up doesn't make things easier despite what you think at the time.
I look back and realise how weak I was as a person. If I'd have been stronger, I'd have kept going with it, and could have done something with it. But I didn't. I chucked it in and walked away from the one thing that used to provide me with so much enjoyment. In a bizarre twist, I said to my students last week that it was an incredibly brave and strong decision on this girl's part to give it away. Incredibly hypocritical of me to say that, but she's giving up. She's walking away from something she loved.
Loved. Maybe that exact tense of the verb explains it all...
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
crash and burn
There has been an alarming number of deaths on our roads in the past week and a bit. I believe the death toll from the past eight days stands at just as many deaths. I know I'm not the only person alarmed by this number. The terrible situation has sent politicians, police officers, lobby groups and prominent city figures calling for 'something to be done'. The question is though, what can you do?
If someone decided to get in their car and drag race at 150km/hr along Magill Rd with their friend, what can we do? We certainly can't stop them. The aforementioned drag race featured on the front page of the weekend paper because of the carnage it caused. The two cars were dragging together, and the side swiped each other. Due to the ridiculous speed at which they were driving, both cars spun out of control and ended up in a million pieces over the four lanes of the road. So did the driver.
This hideously stupid act came just two days after thousands of high school students spent the day at the Entertainment Centre learning about car crashes and hearing about the impact that reckless driving can have. Has the message gotten through? Only time will tell, I suppose. The idiots that raced at that speed on Magill Rd only have themselves to blame. But the public is blaming everyone else: the government is copping it for not having harsh enough penalties to deter people. The police are copping it for not having enough police patrols out on the street. Everyone else, other than the two drivers, seem to be copping it. Why? Because they're dead and they can't front up to take responsibility for their actions.
The diffusion of responsibility in this situation is heinous. The police are putting the blame back on to the government for not giving them enough officers; the government is putting the blame back on the judiciary system because they don't impose harsh penalties so it is seen as acceptable; the judiciary is putting the blame back on the government for not providing with strong legislation. In a vicious circle, who takes the blame?
I can only think of one person: the driver. When driving a vehicle, the driver is responsible for the lives of their passengers and other road users. Yet, I don't think they care. Nor do they realise the consequences. And when they end up dead, they won't ever find out.
It's time that drivers took some responsibility for their own actions. Impounding the cars of hoon drivers clearly isn't working. Graphic add campaings isn't working either. Have they ever thought to look at how people learn to drive? Maybe that is when drivers should be made to go through driver education, showing them graphic pictures, hearing personal accounts of car crashes and speaking with "reformed hoons" might be worth a try. Surely anything has to be tried because what we've got now clearly isn't working.
If someone decided to get in their car and drag race at 150km/hr along Magill Rd with their friend, what can we do? We certainly can't stop them. The aforementioned drag race featured on the front page of the weekend paper because of the carnage it caused. The two cars were dragging together, and the side swiped each other. Due to the ridiculous speed at which they were driving, both cars spun out of control and ended up in a million pieces over the four lanes of the road. So did the driver.
This hideously stupid act came just two days after thousands of high school students spent the day at the Entertainment Centre learning about car crashes and hearing about the impact that reckless driving can have. Has the message gotten through? Only time will tell, I suppose. The idiots that raced at that speed on Magill Rd only have themselves to blame. But the public is blaming everyone else: the government is copping it for not having harsh enough penalties to deter people. The police are copping it for not having enough police patrols out on the street. Everyone else, other than the two drivers, seem to be copping it. Why? Because they're dead and they can't front up to take responsibility for their actions.
The diffusion of responsibility in this situation is heinous. The police are putting the blame back on to the government for not giving them enough officers; the government is putting the blame back on the judiciary system because they don't impose harsh penalties so it is seen as acceptable; the judiciary is putting the blame back on the government for not providing with strong legislation. In a vicious circle, who takes the blame?
I can only think of one person: the driver. When driving a vehicle, the driver is responsible for the lives of their passengers and other road users. Yet, I don't think they care. Nor do they realise the consequences. And when they end up dead, they won't ever find out.
It's time that drivers took some responsibility for their own actions. Impounding the cars of hoon drivers clearly isn't working. Graphic add campaings isn't working either. Have they ever thought to look at how people learn to drive? Maybe that is when drivers should be made to go through driver education, showing them graphic pictures, hearing personal accounts of car crashes and speaking with "reformed hoons" might be worth a try. Surely anything has to be tried because what we've got now clearly isn't working.
Monday, March 30, 2009
a blog of the same name
My all-time favourite story book, either novel or picture book, is Sadako and the Thousand Paper Cranes. I guess that is where I got the title of my blog from. I first came across that story when I was six years old, learning Japanese in Primary School. Set during World War II Sadako, written by Eleanor Coerr and illustrated by Ed Young, is the story of a young Japanese school girl who develops leukemia as a result of radiation poisoning from the bombing of Hiroshima.
Following Japanese custom, she began folding paper cranes - 1000 cranes would grant her one wish. Sadly, Sadako died after making only 644. Her story, however, lives on as nurses and doctors and friends worked round the clock to fold the remaining cranes in her memory. Several years after her death, a statue was erected in Hiroshima Peace Park depicting Sadako with the Golden Crane, the first of the thousand cranes made.
I believe that 1000 paper cranes will give one hope. It is where I draw my inspiration from - I want to always have hope. I live and feel like there is a reason worth living for. Without hope, there is no life. Sadako's story is full of hope; a hope to recover; a hope to get well again; a hope that war will not effect other children the way it has effected her. The effects of the atomic bomb dropped on Hiroshima are still being felt to this day. Hope that it will one day all be over is still a daily thought.
Following Japanese custom, she began folding paper cranes - 1000 cranes would grant her one wish. Sadly, Sadako died after making only 644. Her story, however, lives on as nurses and doctors and friends worked round the clock to fold the remaining cranes in her memory. Several years after her death, a statue was erected in Hiroshima Peace Park depicting Sadako with the Golden Crane, the first of the thousand cranes made.
I believe that 1000 paper cranes will give one hope. It is where I draw my inspiration from - I want to always have hope. I live and feel like there is a reason worth living for. Without hope, there is no life. Sadako's story is full of hope; a hope to recover; a hope to get well again; a hope that war will not effect other children the way it has effected her. The effects of the atomic bomb dropped on Hiroshima are still being felt to this day. Hope that it will one day all be over is still a daily thought.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
flying high
I often find myself staring out of the large wall of windows in the university law library. From my seat in the air-conditioned room, I can pretty much see all of metropolitan Adelaide from Brighton to Outer Harbour to Norwood and Elizabeth, and smack bang in the middle of it all is the CBD and Adelaide Airport.
Every single time I look out of the slightly dirty windows, I can see a plane either taking off or coming in to land and I often wonder about the passengers on board the flight. Are they beginning their journey? Or are they at the end of their journey? Is there someone waiting for them on the other side of the luggage claim, or did they just leave someone behind?
When I was at Singapore Airport in December, I made the realisation that you can tell apart passengers that are beginning their journey from passengers that are on their return leg. This, I deduced, is due to the amount of hand luggage and duty free bags that they have with them. You don't buy duty free goods at the start of your journey - you buy them at the end. But it provides food for thought.
Are their people who travel without anyone knowing where they are going or when they are going to be coming home? Part of the excitement of any trip is coming home and seeing family or friends waiting for you at the airport, welcoming you back to reality, wanting to hear about every single fun-filled moment of your holiday. Of course this is different for business people, who travel to a different capital city every day, but for international flights, I would expect this to be true.
I wish I was on every single jet plane leaving Adelaide; and I don't mean any disrespect to my home city, but the world is so big and there is so much to see. I want to conquer it all and experience everything that the world has to offer. I think for now, I will have to be content to stare out of the university library window and dream as I once again, watch another plane hurtle down the runway and up into the sky.
I think thats where dreams live, anyway.
Every single time I look out of the slightly dirty windows, I can see a plane either taking off or coming in to land and I often wonder about the passengers on board the flight. Are they beginning their journey? Or are they at the end of their journey? Is there someone waiting for them on the other side of the luggage claim, or did they just leave someone behind?
When I was at Singapore Airport in December, I made the realisation that you can tell apart passengers that are beginning their journey from passengers that are on their return leg. This, I deduced, is due to the amount of hand luggage and duty free bags that they have with them. You don't buy duty free goods at the start of your journey - you buy them at the end. But it provides food for thought.
Are their people who travel without anyone knowing where they are going or when they are going to be coming home? Part of the excitement of any trip is coming home and seeing family or friends waiting for you at the airport, welcoming you back to reality, wanting to hear about every single fun-filled moment of your holiday. Of course this is different for business people, who travel to a different capital city every day, but for international flights, I would expect this to be true.
I wish I was on every single jet plane leaving Adelaide; and I don't mean any disrespect to my home city, but the world is so big and there is so much to see. I want to conquer it all and experience everything that the world has to offer. I think for now, I will have to be content to stare out of the university library window and dream as I once again, watch another plane hurtle down the runway and up into the sky.
I think thats where dreams live, anyway.
Monday, March 16, 2009
seven by seven... almost
Seven things I plan to do before I die:
1. Travel to every continent in the world
2. Become a mother
3. Own a house
4. Travel around Australia in a caravan/camper van
5. Skydive
6. Learn to cook
7. Work full-time
Seven things I can do:
1. Dance
2. Drive a car
3. Communicate
4. Pack a suitcase
5. Use power tools
6. Save money
7. Talk to random people about random things
Seven things I cannot do:
1. Cook
2. Run a long distance
3. Invest
4. Drive less than the speed limit
5. Sleep on a plane
6. Be nice when I answer the phone at 3am!
7. Write an essay well before the due date
Seven things I say most often:
1. Whatever!
2. Make sense?
3. Alrighty...
4. Get over it!
5. Just do what you can...
6. Check ya later!
7. That's ridiculous
Seven things I never thought I would do, but did:
1. Finish year 12
2. Travel the Trans-Siberian
3. Operate a chainsaw
4. Learn another language just by living in that country
5. Have an essay nominated for a prize
6.
7.
Seven cities I've seen:
1. London
2. Paris
3. Rome
4. Moscow
5. Beijing
6. Melbourne
7. Helsinki
Seven of my most inspirational people:
Off the top of my head, I cannot think of seven people that inspire me... but there are so many inspirational people out there that have had extraordinary things happen to them, and they have fought back to make it to the top. Cyclist Anna Meares would be an example of this.
1. Travel to every continent in the world
2. Become a mother
3. Own a house
4. Travel around Australia in a caravan/camper van
5. Skydive
6. Learn to cook
7. Work full-time
Seven things I can do:
1. Dance
2. Drive a car
3. Communicate
4. Pack a suitcase
5. Use power tools
6. Save money
7. Talk to random people about random things
Seven things I cannot do:
1. Cook
2. Run a long distance
3. Invest
4. Drive less than the speed limit
5. Sleep on a plane
6. Be nice when I answer the phone at 3am!
7. Write an essay well before the due date
Seven things I say most often:
1. Whatever!
2. Make sense?
3. Alrighty...
4. Get over it!
5. Just do what you can...
6. Check ya later!
7. That's ridiculous
Seven things I never thought I would do, but did:
1. Finish year 12
2. Travel the Trans-Siberian
3. Operate a chainsaw
4. Learn another language just by living in that country
5. Have an essay nominated for a prize
6.
7.
Seven cities I've seen:
1. London
2. Paris
3. Rome
4. Moscow
5. Beijing
6. Melbourne
7. Helsinki
Seven of my most inspirational people:
Off the top of my head, I cannot think of seven people that inspire me... but there are so many inspirational people out there that have had extraordinary things happen to them, and they have fought back to make it to the top. Cyclist Anna Meares would be an example of this.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
beautiful day
I saw perhaps the most inspiration and uplifting thing I'd ever seen on Thursday evening. Complexions Contemporary Ballet Company were in town, performing at the Festival Theatre, and the advertisements I'd seen for it in various forms of the media all looked really promising. Whilst I'm not a huge fan of contemporary dance, this was simply stunning. There really isn't any other way to describe the beauty of the masterpieces that appeared on the stage. The athleticism and energy required for those pieces was beyond belief, but the delivery and the quality of it all was breathtaking.
We'd all gone there to see Act III, Rise, their forty-minute piece to eight of U2s well-known anthems. As the curtain rose, and one lone man was running on the spot, you could just feel the audience shift forwards on their seats to be just *that* bit closer to the stage. I knew as soon as I saw Philip Orsano running in white shorts and a red open-chested shirt, that it was going to be amazing. I knew it was what I had come to see. And for forty minutes, I wanted to get up and dance with them. I wanted to share the joy that I could see written all over their face. They loved performing this piece, and it was more than evident. This is what dance was about. Flawless technique. Flight. Athelticism. Joy.
It was a whirlwind of movement: sometimes simple, sometimes busy; but where-ever you looked, it was amazing. Which ever dancer you chose to focus your attention on, did not disappoint you. Some of the dancers drew you in: they are the ones you just see out the corner of your eye, then find yourself absorbed completely in their performance. Several dancers had that effect on me during the performance. I'd be watching one of them, then suddenly on the other side of the stage, there is another dancer who is putting their whole body into each movement, their heart into each step, and it really is warming to find this.
I walked out of that theatre wanting to get back into the studio and train again. Train to perform in a show like that. I was on such a high at the end of the show, I just wanted to see it again. I have not ever seen anything like it, and I doubt I will ever seen anything like it again. Such was the sheer brilliance of the show. I know it will be forever ingrained in my mind: the lines, the shapes, the colours, the movements, the music, the lights, the emotions. I made a big call at the end of the show, stating that it was perhaps the best thing I've ever seen. Yes, it was a big call as I have seen so many shows in my lifetime, but this was something special. This was something really special, that created such a magical atmosphere and left me dreaming about that night. There's something pretty amazing in that.
As the curtain came down at the end of their encore curtain call, I can admit that Bono was right. It was a Beautiful Day.
We'd all gone there to see Act III, Rise, their forty-minute piece to eight of U2s well-known anthems. As the curtain rose, and one lone man was running on the spot, you could just feel the audience shift forwards on their seats to be just *that* bit closer to the stage. I knew as soon as I saw Philip Orsano running in white shorts and a red open-chested shirt, that it was going to be amazing. I knew it was what I had come to see. And for forty minutes, I wanted to get up and dance with them. I wanted to share the joy that I could see written all over their face. They loved performing this piece, and it was more than evident. This is what dance was about. Flawless technique. Flight. Athelticism. Joy.
It was a whirlwind of movement: sometimes simple, sometimes busy; but where-ever you looked, it was amazing. Which ever dancer you chose to focus your attention on, did not disappoint you. Some of the dancers drew you in: they are the ones you just see out the corner of your eye, then find yourself absorbed completely in their performance. Several dancers had that effect on me during the performance. I'd be watching one of them, then suddenly on the other side of the stage, there is another dancer who is putting their whole body into each movement, their heart into each step, and it really is warming to find this.
I walked out of that theatre wanting to get back into the studio and train again. Train to perform in a show like that. I was on such a high at the end of the show, I just wanted to see it again. I have not ever seen anything like it, and I doubt I will ever seen anything like it again. Such was the sheer brilliance of the show. I know it will be forever ingrained in my mind: the lines, the shapes, the colours, the movements, the music, the lights, the emotions. I made a big call at the end of the show, stating that it was perhaps the best thing I've ever seen. Yes, it was a big call as I have seen so many shows in my lifetime, but this was something special. This was something really special, that created such a magical atmosphere and left me dreaming about that night. There's something pretty amazing in that.
As the curtain came down at the end of their encore curtain call, I can admit that Bono was right. It was a Beautiful Day.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
unforgiving summer
This morning has been filled with joyous relief as thousands of Adelaideans watched rain falling heavily from the grey clouds above. It started yesterday, really, with large, heavy drops coming down in the humid weather. But this morning, has really been wonderful. The rain has been steady since about 8.30am and it has been quite a down-pour at sometimes. This has been our first spot of rain since December 12, 2008. Three months without rain has certainly taken its toll on the land.
I watched the rain fall from my back windown and felt like crying. This is what we need. Water, one of the most natural resources in the world, and we didn't have any. Until now, I have been largely unaffected by the drought that has crippled our farmers. It was only last week when I had a look at the river by the brewery, and the river by the airport that did not so much as even have a trickle of water running through them, did I actually take stock of the situation and realise just how dire our need for water is.
February has been a devastating month for much of Australia. Victoria suffered (and is still suffering from) the country's worst fires since the mid-1980s, Queensland is again under water due to flooding, and Western Australia and New South Wales have also had some flash flooding in the last few weeks. South Australia was hot. And bone dry. We may not have the cold winters like Mongolia, or the stiffling summers like Africa, but we certainly have an unforgiving summer season.
I watched the rain fall from my back windown and felt like crying. This is what we need. Water, one of the most natural resources in the world, and we didn't have any. Until now, I have been largely unaffected by the drought that has crippled our farmers. It was only last week when I had a look at the river by the brewery, and the river by the airport that did not so much as even have a trickle of water running through them, did I actually take stock of the situation and realise just how dire our need for water is.
February has been a devastating month for much of Australia. Victoria suffered (and is still suffering from) the country's worst fires since the mid-1980s, Queensland is again under water due to flooding, and Western Australia and New South Wales have also had some flash flooding in the last few weeks. South Australia was hot. And bone dry. We may not have the cold winters like Mongolia, or the stiffling summers like Africa, but we certainly have an unforgiving summer season.
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