Without the Rave

Well, I've seen the end of boredom. It's here. My course content is now available online so I can get cracking with it! Hooray!

I really miss my family at the moment. And I often wish I was at home so I could be with my Aussie friends. But I realised today that I'm scared that their lives will go forward and in a year or so too much will have changed. So many getting married! So many moving away! I want to be there now, and enjoy it how it is now, but I definitely also want to be here now, with these people, and sometimes I feel like I have to decide who I love more. How silly. But it's hard.

Oh and the money-from-the-government thing is a no-go. Ah well. At least my computer is working!

I'm stressed about being jobless and I'm losing faith on that front. What can I do? I need a job. Stress is rotten. I don't feel it all that much (usually my body deals with pressure by exerting it through an allergenic/infectious reaction), but even when I do it's not all that bad. So I really feel for people who have super stressful jobs or lives because it's so encumbering. When I was deciding whether or not to leave my last "job" I literally couldn't go a minute without the weight of the decision pressing down on me. Oh, you say, wait till you're a teacher... Hmm yeah. We'll cross that bridge after we've had a bit of a picnic.

I listened to some Mark Driscoll sermons. I never thought I would say that, because a) I never did like Mark Driscoll (until now), and b) I never listen to sermons online; but I found them really, really intriguing. I had a prejudiced and ill-informed opinion of Driscoll: that he was pompous and aggressive, but I really took to his frankness and his funniness. He doesn't mess about. I think that sometimes he gets carried away with being so avant-guarde but I appreciated what he had to say. Here's the link http://marshill.com/media/vintagejesus

And thanks to a wise woman who told me to watch the one on the resurrection - when was it - this time last year? Or earlier? I never did until now. But I'm glad I have. Thanks.

I get annoyed when people worship preachers like Driscoll or Piper or [drop another name here] as though it's their amazing wisdom that is saving the world. Yes, some people have brilliant brains and a unique knack for explaining things, but they're only human and they still do a poo. (I stole that from a lady who gave one of the many inspirational talks you're fed in high school. She was talking about 'the cool kids' and she said "when you're thinking about how great they are, just remember that they still do a poo." Cracked me up then, and I still use the technique sometimes. Never fails to entertain.)

And another thing: this one I stole from a good friend. She said to me "I think it's terrible how people [in church] feel that they have to leave... in order to step down from positions in the church" and I said "Who in particular?" and she said "Well, you..."
It's the truth. I know people who have got so busy with ministry, they burnt out, then left; and if they were anything like me, it was partly because you felt like people knew you as Jess-the-very-involved and now that you were just a shell of a person and couldn't be everything people expected of you, you had to go. I think that coming to London has been really, really good for me, and I'm so lucky I've fallen into a great church community, (well luck has nothing to do with it if there's a God), but it's a shame about the circumstances that lead me here. I believe I was in leadership too young. Too young as a Christian and too young as a person. I loved it, and I learnt a lot from it - more than that, I wouldn't be who I am if I had never been on the youth group team - but in hindsight I can see that I needed a lot more maturity and life experience than I had before I could take on that role.
Anyway, they're just my thoughts and I'd be happy to talk to anyone who has any ideas or opinions of their own. I've had a good life so far and I'm not suggesting that anyone ever did me wrong. I just have a different view as to when I was a teenager. All those many years ago...

Gut Feelings

I'm really fretting about my home visit. I've said before that I'm worried I'll just cry the whole entire week... A few days is barely enough to even hug my family. I'll be so incredibly tired and rocked. I'm scared I won't want to come back; but at the same time the thought that I'll have to leave this part of the world behind one day makes me really sad. I've grown attached to my London. Well, the people here. Not so much the city. But I will miss the tube. And the variety of accents.

It's not that I'm not excited. I am. I cannot wait for the wedding! It's going to be amazing, and if I cry there it will be for joy. I can't wait to see my family and friends and wake up to magpies singing and see how my garden has grown (OK so maybe it's not my garden) and to go to St Marks and see all the beautiful kids who have probably grown a few inches taller by now. But I could crash and burn (either when I'm back in London or on the plane - literally). It could make me even more indecisive about what to do next year.

I'll have to say goodbye all over again.
That's going to be really, really hard.

I've been feeling pretty rotten for the last two weeks because I'm in the process of changing medication. It's making me even more tired than usual and I'm waking up feeling hungry and nauseous at the same time. Of course, that really saps my supply of patience and anybody knows that getting kids ready for school in the morning can be a bit of an ordeal. I'm going to try my hardest to get to bed early every night I can, and hope that these side effects will go away. Waking up to the prospect of the stress of the morning doesn't help. I need to get more things going during the day: things I can look forward to. I had coffee with a friend yesterday which was real nice; and though it was only an hour, having to go out and get the tube and having a nice conversation with a peer (!!) was really worthwhile. It's funny how you can feel less tired if you've been occupied for a lot of the day than if you sat around not doing much.

So that's a little of where I'm at right now. There is a heck of a lot more I could write, but not here. Besides, I feel like I've talked a lot of things out with a lot of people but haven't got as far as dealing with anything, because I still don't know what can be done. What can be done? I'm not Wonder Woman. A lot of the time I feel like I'm not cut out for this. I'm not a parent. But maybe I'm not trying hard enough. It's not my fault things are the way they are, but am I helping? I don't know what to do.

The plot gets a move on!

I've got a visa! At least, it will be in the mail in the next few days. Thank goodness. I've been dreaming about it lately. Nightmares. So I'm glad it's all clear: Folks, I'll be going to England!

I did a practice pack today. I thought to myself - what the heck? I need to know how much I can fit in a suitcase anyway. There's another garbage bag full of clothes for Salvos (third one this year) and an even bigger pile called 'Undecided.' And you know what? I got excited. It was nice. For ages I've just had stress and worry and a bit of panic (not really like me, but I've never uprooted my life to plonk it on the other side of the world before). But thinking about unpacking to a new room and meeting the family actually made me look forward to going.

I wish I had a specific time - immovable, solid. If I had just one dollar for every time I've been asked "when are you leaving?..." I would be quite a few dollars richer. But now that I know my visa is on the way I can make flight arrangements... at least, I can give the agency the go-ahead to make my flight arrangements.

Now I'm just sealing up the boxes of stuff that's staying, and deciding whether taking my paper confetti bunting to England is a bit weird. The other thing I have to find out is... Can I take knitting needles on the plane?
Ew gross! Two mating flies just landed on my track pad. Ugggh.

Elevators and Motorway Exits

Well in order to get the working holiday visa, one must get their fingerprints scanned at a British consulate before the application is sent off. So on Friday night I was informed that my appointment was at 10:30 on Monday morning at 9/100 Eagle St Brisbane etc. That's fine, I thought, I'll drive up on Sunday and stay the night at my aunty's house. She wasn't going to be there but her housemate was happy for me to stay.
But golly it was a bit stressful. I don't have the best sense of direction and it's hard navigating on your own with just a few print outs from google maps...

I caught up with a friend in Ipswich which was nice; I ended up staying for church with him as well. It was a young, groovy, Presbyterian service which meant a youth band and much use of the word 'connect.'
After that I headed up to my aunty's house, which is not in the centre of the city where I ended up. I actually drove past Eagle St which was a bit ironic, but after a phone call I was on the right track and soon having a glass of milk and calling Mum to tell her I'd made it. Then I went to bed.. Gosh Queensland is warm.

The next day I bustled into the city again in my dusty camry (can I say, he did 800kms on 60L of petrol on this trip. I will miss him when I go!). I almost went through a toll tunnel (tunnel!?! I want to go over the river!) but the signs are pretty good and I knew what to follow. The next problem, after crossing the Story Bridge, was finding a park. That's funny, I accidentally typed 'funding' and that would be relevant too - the place I found cost $46 for an hour and fifteen minutes.

Finding the British consulate was simple. I arrived early and was called straight away. I sat down in the interview room in front of a glass panel and handed over my forms and passport. The guy looked up and said 'My granddaughter in the UK is Jessica Hunt, when I read this I was like "hmm?" and had to think.' Then I got my fingerprints scanned on this spacey little machine that looked like a docket printer mixed with an alien x-ray machine (being alien because the scanning area was clear green). My photo was taken then I was back in the elevator (I hate elevators) and back onto the street to find my...

Oh flip. My car. I hadn't taken any notice of the street the car park was on. If you've been to the centre of Brisbane you'll know that car parks are small and tucked away under skyscrapers or on little lane ways. I remembered vaguely the name of it but it literally took me forty five minutes of walking up and down and across streets to find it again. By then I was almost at the point of asking somebody but every second person was an all-important looking businessman or businesswoman and every other person had an ipod or a hurried expression. Strangers don't come across as very friendly in the city.

Then it was back onto the motorways following signs out of there. Thank goodness! The drive home wasn't very fun; I had a headache and was still diluting stressyness through my system. I finished listening to The Outsiders on audio (it's one of my favourite books) and that was nice, but Mum said when I got home that I as white as a sheet. I certainly felt awful.

I'm much better today. I've sent my application off to the British High Commission and I thought that would alleviate more stress than it has, but I'll still have to wait two or more weeks to know if I have a visa! Eek. Let's all hope and pray that the exchange rate doesn't budge and my bank statement will still meet the mark. Don't ask me what happens if it gets refused, I don't know and hopefully I won't have to.

Now I'll keep on going with sorting and packing my things! And crafty stuff, and people time, and doing all I can to make sure the garden stays alive while I'm away. Right now I think I might henna my hands...