Have at it! Title and artist, people.

My stepfather, Gordon, is not an attractive man. He’s not a bad guy, by any means – he’s hardworking, polite, and kind in his own way. No matter how much you like him, though, there’s just no pretending that he’s good looking. Case in point: my baby brother Matty, his son, used to refer to Alenka’s Wallace (of Nick Park’s Wallace & Gromit fame) keyring as “Daddy on de teys.”

LISTENING TO:

This Too Shall Pass – OK Go

LISTENING TO:

If You Wanna Be Happy – Jimmy Soul

I accepted the job offer. I start in a few weeks.

I can’t believe I’m doing this; I am so completely in love with my kids and that stupid school. I cried myself to sleep last night after I made up my mind, and I’ve been nauseated for a solid 24 hours. I think I’m going to regret this so badly, but my head and nearly every single person in my life is telling me not to be an idiot. Even some of my kids, several of whom I made cry today.

Righto! I do believe it is substance abuse coping mechanism time. Lisa baby, open that fucking wine. (Woo, I’m a role model!)

LISTENING TO:

Heavy Heart - You Am I

LISTENING TO:

Where Is My Mind – The Pixies

PS: Those are links to the songs, silly people. Download them!

LISTENING TO:

40 Day Dream – Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros

Case in point: I recently watched some of the first season of Degrassi Junior High with a friend,  and a few weeks ago I bought my own copy. I’ve been watching with mingled joy and horror. Joy, because this is like reclaiming every afternoon after school between the ages of nine and thirteen, and horror, because the first season is woefully (but wonderfully) bad. I’m not sure if it actually will get better, or if my memory is just really faulty and it sucked all along.

For the record – you know a television show has taken realism too far when THIS is The Pretty Girl Who All The Boys Want.

She’s missing a tooth (and possibly a chromosome), for fuck’s sake! Show me one school in the world where someone with a GIANT HOLE IN HER FACE would be considered The Pretty Girl. Ah well, Caitlin was always my favourite, anyway.

As most of you know, I’m working in a school at the moment. I won’t say which one, for fear of drawing the wrath of Google and Education Queensland down from on high, but my job is… eclectic, to say the least. I believe my official title is Behaviour Support Coordinator, but my role is in flux. I’m not sure what it will be next term, or what my duties will be. I’m largely getting to make it up as I go along. My main role is working with the kids who get kicked out of class, helping them renegotiate their way back in and repairing their relationships with the teachers, but so far I’ve also broken up six fistfights, mediated arguments between bitchy, backstabbing teenaged girls, counselled kids on everything from self harm, careers, sexuality, relationships, friendships, grief and loss, divorce, eating disorders (there’s a big dance program at school. What a surprise there’d be an ED problem!), helped with homework and assignments, taught a kid to play I Will Follow You Into The Dark on the ukulele, had a jam session with six guitars, patched up skinned knees and taught a dozen teachers new behaviour management techniques. In a few weeks I’m going on the Yr 8 camp, I’ve been volunteered as Props Master for the school musical (The Wizard Of Oz) and I’m helping the school nurse and chaplain run a Young Women’s Group next term.

I’ve had a few kids tell me that I’m the best thing about school for them, including one boy who told me I was like John Keating from Dead Poets Society (I’ve chosen to assume that he meant I had inspired him to look at the world differently, not that I looked like Robin Williams). I go to work smiling every day; whistling, even, like a Disney dwarf. I’m not worn out by the work; on Friday I’m just as fresh as Monday. Heck, by Sunday, I’m bored and ready to go back to work again to see my munchkins. There are so many upsides to this job – I get school holidays off, and I only work 30 hours a week. I don’t have to leave my house until 8:30 (but I usually leave earlier so I can chat to my munchkins before class), and I can be home by 3:20 (but I usually leave later so I can chat to my munchkins after class). The money’s not great, but I don’t care much about money, so long as I have enough to live on. I’ve never gotten stuck in traffic, despite having to drive straight through the city in the middle of peak hour; for some reason the traffic lanes part for me like Moses through the Red Sea.

Now. I’ve had a job offer from a large youth network. A damn good offer; I didn’t apply for the job, they sought me out. Car, laptop, phone, national and international travel, state-level management position, about twice as much as I’m currently being paid. It’s a good career move, as opposed to this job, which was me giving myself a break for a while after a tough time last year. I can do it, sure. I’d even be good at it. Would I like it? Probably.

But I won’t like it as much as I like my school. Nowhere near as much. Direct work with kids will drop from 100% down to about 10 – 15%. Red tape and paperwork will multiply a billionfold. I’ll be away from home a fair bit, and it will be significantly more stressful. But here’s the rub; my contract with the school is only for another three months, and I don’t yet know if it is going to be able to be renewed. It doesn’t hinge on how good a job I do or don’t do; Ed. QLD isn’t paying for my position, the school itself is, and it had to scrape together the money for the six month contract in the first place. They’re going to try to get the money together to extend it, but can’t make any promises.

Am I crazy for wanting to turn the offer down and stay at my school for as long as possible? Or was my time at my school just meant to be short and sweet, a nice memory of an awesome, but brief moment in time?

I’m going to a Roller Derby game in a few weeks with my shiny new Tim. What would my Roller Derby name be? Nothing too obvious, people; ‘Dominatrix’ is a gimme.

LISTENING TO:

Never Tear Us Apart – INXS

LISTENING TO:

Njosnavelin – Sigur Rós

You know how in television ads and movies people are always jumping into lakes and pools, still wearing all their clothes? Or one of their friends cheekily pushes them in? If anyone ever did that to me, I’d fucking kill them, because at any given point in time I have more than $1000 worth of shit in my pockets, what with my camera, phone, and iPod. Sure, this robs me somewhat of the impulsiveness popular culture tells me I’m supposed to indulge in, but I like my gadgets, damn it.

The Brisbane River isn’t the nicest river in the world. Sure, some of it is fit for putting on postcards and luring unsuspecting people to the city, like this:

And some of it has cute little sculptures and weird things, like this:

But for quite a long stretch, huge mangroves line the river’s edge. Mangroves don’t smell great.

And as it is quite shallow, it has to be dredged regularly so ships don’t run aground, which churns up a hell of a lot of mud. The end result is that by the time you’re downstream enough to be in West End, up close the river smells somewhat like mangroves, and looks an awful lot like this.

Which is why I was once unpleasantly surprised to find myself forced to jump into the West End stretch of the Brisbane River with all my clothes on, after my horrible client R “accidently” knocked a small boy – a complete stranger, mind you – into it. Said small boy couldn’t swim, and after thrashing and screaming for ten seconds promptly sank like a little millstone. Sighing at my life, I jumped in after him and hauled him out, earning for my troubles some lovely little bruises from his vice-like grip, and an enormous multicoloured bruise of doom from something pointy in the river I’m hoping was just a stick.

My thanks was a heartfelt and far-too-prolonged hug from his mother, the largest, sweatiest woman I’ve ever met, and a two kilometre walk back to my car whilst dripping wet with yucky mangrove water.

R was just lucky that I had all my stuff in my bag, not my pockets, or I swear to you all I would have taken it out of her via the pound of flesh method. Thanks, R. Here’s to your good health.

On another note, re. Hungry Beast tonight: Monique Schafter, where did your hair go?

And on another another note, hey Jeffy and Princess, why don’t you get blogs of your own?

LISTENING TO:

Drown – Smashing Pumpkins

LISTENING TO:

Temper Temper - Envy On The Coast

LISTENING TO:

Natural’s Not In It – Gang Of Four