bearer of bad news

I'm sitting around kind of at a loose end.

I'm still trying to process just what went on yesterday.

As soon as I heard people were being evacuated from Toodyay on Tuesday, I knew I was going to get called in to work. I was going to get called off the holidays bench.

That evening I was called, asked to come in to work and report from Toodyay the next morning, I was in Bunbury so it meant a good two hour drive, a few hours sleep and then up at 4.30am to be in at work and out at Toodyay by 6.30am.

I didn't quite know what I was getting myself in for.

The day was long, it was draining - emotionally, physically, in every way.

I would be repeating myself to explain everything that happened yesterday - I summed it up better on the online coverage for work.

I came home and I didn't know what to do, what to think. Everything felt rather trivial at that point in time. To a certain extent it still does. I did what any overtired person does - I took a sleeping tablet and slept.

I knew there would be phone calls the next morning - clarifications for photos, for audio talent - who had I spoken to, where had I been?

"We played some of your audio montage from yesterday in breakfast," said a colleague.

"When the boss came in this morning, she said she had to pull over on the side of the road when she was listening because she was crying."

I made people cry with my descriptions of a fire scene?

Another colleague called wanting captions for photographs.

"Where's this one of a laundry?" they asked.

I had taken a photo of someone's laundry? I couldn't even make out what I was taking photos of when I was out there. It was all just a blackened mess of charred bits and pieces to me.

I remember at the time having my red-light sensibilities still intact. When the mic was on, the worst it got was, "It's a mess, it's a mess, it's.... an absolute mess."

When the mic was off there was one word that summed up a lot of what I saw: "Fuck."

Returning to town after the little media tour of the decimated homes was hard.

We were going to air with special programming from the town in under an hour. They were talking to me first up. I had to gather my thoughts into accurate descriptions of just what was out there.

I had enough time to grab something to eat - breakfast at 1pm.

I was standing in the bakery and I saw a woman from earlier at the Town Hall evacuation centre. I must have had a look of complete and utter exhaustion on my face. She took one look at me and gave me a big hug.

I bought a sausage roll and headed back to our makeshift office.

We found a cable to download my audio descriptions of the fire ground onto a laptop.

It was as hard listening back to those words as it was saying them in the first place.

Once I had edited a small bit of the audio, I had to think about what I was going to say. I started writing descriptions. But then time was up, we were going on air.

We started by playing the two and a half minute description of the scene.

Everyone in our makeshift studio had this look on their face as my description painted a picture of what it was really like out there.

I felt terrible because I knew there were people listening who hadn't yet seen their destroyed homes for themselves. I was the bearer of bad news.

I knew some parts of my work were damning - I said there was a stark difference between those who had prepared and those who hadn't. I still think it's pretty rich of me, a 24 year old city girl reporter to be criticising people about their bushfire preparations, especially when they've just lost their homes.

I felt bad for being there as a vulture, prying stories out of people in their toughest time yet. But I knew I had to be there, that it's journalism at it's finest, it's the ABC at it's finest when you can come through with information and stories.

I'm still at a loose end, I still don't quite know how to compute everything I saw, heard, smelled and felt yesterday.

so this is christmas

And I didn't want to wake up.

To be completely honest, I wanted to spew. Phlegm plus unhappiness plus the scent of boiling cauliflower does not a good feeling make.

This is pretty much the worst Christmas ever.

Last Christmas was full of anticipation and hope and this one... well it's just not.

To top it all off, I woke up with the words of an obtuse Lennon / McCartney hit stuck in my head. Damn you 720 playlist and your propensity to play In My Life as a two and a half minute filler track.

drowning

Earlier this year I was camping at Yallingup.

And when in Yallingup, you swim at Yallingup Beach.

It was late afternoon, it had been a warm day and the ocean was looking inviting.

So we swam, leaped over the waves and relaxed. And as the ocean has a tendency to do, it drags you in the direction it wants you to go.

The fun was soon interrupted by big waves, the kind that pummel. The kind of waves where you can't jump over it, you can't dive under it - it just knocks you over and you arms and legs are flailing underwater and you get pulled in what seems to be every which direction until suddenly you surface and take a deep breath.

But there's only a split second before the next big wave bears down upon you and suddenly you're flailing, gulping and being belted about.

And over and over it happens again.

You honestly think you're going to drown.

But just as you think you can't handle being pummeled about any more you get grabbed by the arm and pulled out of danger. You suck down air to try and make up for what seemed like the minutes you spent underwater, helpless. You're a complete mess with hair askew and sand in all the wrong places, but you're safe.

If I had to pick a story to use as a metaphor for 2009, that would be it.

I'm still waiting to be grabbed by the arm, pulled away from danger.

I was hungry...

...and you couldn't be fucked to get off the couch and help someone out.

Mental note: Must be more selfish, everyone else seems to be. It almost seems cool to be completely and utterly self-centred and self-absorbed.

Remind me to never again ask anyone to help me out. Especially if it involves someone having to get off their arse and do something nice like bring a friend dinner when that friend has been working since 7.45am.

I'm sick and tired of being taken for granted - going out of my way to do nice things for people, or just having the simple decency of thinking of someone else's needs, only to have the tables turned and have no one there for me.

I am sick to death of everyone's selfishness.

I've just had enough. It's time for someone to look after Jess.

tired

I'm just tired.

I don't think it's quite a physical fatigue. It's a life fatigue.

I'm tired of being sad, I'm tired of being the crying girl, the lonely girl, the upset girl.

The girl who did nothing to deserve this, yet here she is.

The girl without her home, her best friend, her soulmate.

The girl who feels as though she's lost everything, yet feels the immense pressure to be the strong one, the mature one, the adult.

I am tired of tea and sympathy, coffee and sympathy, wine and sympathy. I am tired of cliches too easily trotted out and carelessly thought of.

I am tired of feeling bad, tired of explaining that I'm feeling bad.

I'm tired of being pulled close only to be thrust away when it's too inconvenient or too uncomfortable.

I can't bear the sheer helplessness my situation presents me with. All I can do is pray and cry and pray some more.

I just want to feel the comfort and security within my home once more. I want to be enveloped in, wrapped up in and immersed in my home. Just that one essential thing, denied.

nine things I hate and I wish would just rack off

1. Christmas in November - Dear taste.com.au, what makes you think I want to start cooking Christmas food on the 2nd of November. 2nd of December maybe...
2. Funeral insurance ads - No one likes talking about dying, let alone watching an ad with black and white framed testimonials and lists of how much funeral stuff costs. Funerals are expensive, we get it.
3. Dodgy detox diet ads - no one believes you can lose weight in a healthy way by the power of lemons. People are gullible, but not that gullible.
4. Facebook suggestions - if I haven't added someone as a friend, stop suggesting I do so. Also, stop telling me to reconnect with my brother - we live in the same house! Also, not so keen on the idea of Facebook suggesting I poke my boss, just saying...
5. Cereal getting stuck to the side of your bowl - If you eat breakfast at work, you'll know what I mean - that stuff won't budge without an hour of soaking the bowl.
6. People who go through tunnels at 50 kph - It's a tunnel, not a big scary monster. You can go 80 kph. You will not die. I bet you drive slowly when grey clouds loom overhead... I know your type.
7. Crowds - People suck. Especially when they congregate and don't move.
8. Pedestrian crossings on roundabouts - Dear City of Fremantle, want to know how to kill pedestrians? Put pedestrian crossings on roundabouts but don't have great visibility all the way around. Normally I have much love for roundabouts but Freo, you have killed that love.
9. Prefacing statements with 'Can I just say...' or 'Let me just say this...' - It's a cliche. When you use a cliche too many times you become a cliche.

ten reasons why I would rather be norwegian

1. Roald Dahl was of Norwegian decsent. Roald Dahl wrote about chocolate factories and giant peaches and a little and cute and super smart girl who could move things with her mind. I don't know what they put in the water in Norway (clearly something stronger than flouride) - but they rock.

2. Norway is the most liveable country in the world - Ok. So the cynical reporter in me knows that studies such as these pop up on the internet approximately every ooooooh ... two months. And let's face it - who's to believe surveys such as these when similar surveys say Sydney is the best city in the world. Pah!

3.One word: fjords. Just say that word again: fjords... Who isn't happy when they say the word fjord? Fjords are pretty, kind of like a visualisation of what those villi (fingery things in the small intestine that give it soooo much surface area). We don't have fjords in Australia. Nope. Something to do with not being near icebergs. But New Zealand has them. And sheep.

4. Isla Lund - Ok, so she's a fictional character who can't make up her mind whether she wants Rick or Victor in Casablanca. Because she's Norwegian. Ok... and it doesn't matter that the very Swedish Ingrid Bergman plays her because she's a very cool lady. Enough said.

5. Potatoes. I'm lead to believe Norwegians eat a lot of potatoes. I'm down with that.

6. It's cold. And by default that means there are no 45 degree days.

7. Norway has a motto. Yes. They have a motto. Two mottos, in fact. The Royal Motto (!) is "All for Norway! (I added the exclamation mark, as one would only exclaim such a thing). and the Eidsvoll Oath: United and loyal until the mountains of Dovre crumble. Mottos are fun. We need an Australian motto. And no, "Aussie, aussie, aussie, Oi, oi, oi!" Does not count.

8. It stays light for a long time in summer in Norway. And! They have Daylight Saving. That's forward thinking and awesome. I'm sure they have extended trading hours too.

9. Norwegians are coffee obsessed. In an average year they will drink 160 litres of the good stuff each. Norwegians are my friends.

10. Norway is equal first with Ireland, Denmark, Finland and Sweden as far as press freedom is concerned. And Australia? 16th.

don't get me wrong

I'm not upset because I got the thin envelope.

Let's face it, when you get an envelope, it's going to be a fail.

Success is marked by personal contact over the phone.

Nothing good has ever come from an envelope.

And did I expect the envelope?

Yes. Yes, I did. I've had many phone call experiences and envelope fails.

I wasn't surprised.

Does it make me more determined to write and write well?

Definitely.

But what was I surprised that no one really cared that I got an envelope instead of a phone call?

Yes. There wasn't even a sense of fake disappointment for me.

I guess this just adds to the frustration of how mundane life is at the moment. Do I need the money a phone call would have brought? No. It wasn't essential. But do I need something positive to bolster my spirits, reinforce the fact that , hey I'm good at something? Yes. desperately. I need a sense of place, a sense of being. A sense that something is right and well.

So don't get me wrong I'm not disappointed at getting an envelope, just disappointed that life carries on as usual.

my head's in egypt

I'll admit my head is not here.

Mostly because Perth is a rather crap place to have your head - there's not much to occupy it.

But Egypt, that's a whole other story.

My head is in the past in Egypt, and my head is in the future in Egypt.

I've been writing a lot about 1920s Egypt, which is fun and heart wrenching and challenging.

And as part of writing about 1920s Egypt I'll be spending some time next year in Egypt. I'm excited at the opportunity to spend some time somewhere completely foreign. I'm mostly excited for the adventure of it all.

I'm the first one to admit, my head's not really in the present, it's a few months in the future a few thousand kilometres away.

Oh, it's not just Egypt I'm excited about... but the many, many other places out there to discover.

the day where i fell asleep at my desk and cried for no good reason

Yep.

Today sucked.

It was 8.07am on Royal Street, East Perth and I had tears welling up.

And I don't know why.

"Hey, are you here yet? I need a hug... I feel like I want to cry and I don't know why." I messaged him.

Those welled up tears turned into crocodile tears wading down the Amazon of my face. This is not a good look when you're meant to be doing vox pops.

I gathered myself and greeted the cafe owner. He asked me where'd I drank coffee the other day because I wasn't there yesterday.

I didn't have the heart to tell him that just five days ago, I was on the other side of the country, thanking my lucky stars that I didn't have to drink his horrid coffee.

Soon my Irish friend came downstairs for his daily mug and paper.

He relayed the stories of the day from the newspaper that I'd already read before 6am.

"Did you see the size of that TV? You just want to yell out to the guy in the picture, 'Watch out! That polar bear's going to eat you!'"

The boy walked past the cafe windows with a frown on his face, he was searching for me, but couldn't quite see that I was right under his nose. Literally.

We went and sat in his camo's car. Both unhappy in the fact that we had jobs, not careers and a long wait for a big adventure.

I had a headache and a neck ache. I blame too much sleep (Yes, I fell asleep at 8pm... so wrong). I took my migraine medication.

I was sitting at my desk typing an email that was soon to be the talk of the office.

But I could barely keep my eyes open. I desperately wanted a power nap but I feared the consequences of someone catching me sleeping.

So I ate some chocolate and cowboyed up.

Sometimes it's just one of those days...