It has been three weeks since I last posted. Much of that was work and therefore quite banal. I also finished TAFE, which was great: we handed in our business plans at the Cabana Bar in St Leonards and had a grand time drinking beer and just chatting about the anything you chat about with people you're comfortable with but don't really know well.
Couple of interesting things happened before that. My friend Skippy came down from Brisbane a few Fridays ago and in an empty food court in Market City (following dinner and a visit to chocolateria San Churro) she read tarot for me. She has always been quite intuitive but I believe she is getting quite good at interpretation now. Anyhow, I asked her two questions, both of which will need some explanation.
The first question was: 'What is the significance of James?' Now, James was a guy in my TAFE class who I quite liked, but I could never figure out whether or not I had a crush on him. Then I decided I didn't really because I couldn't imagine us together, and yet I felt a certain attraction to him. I didn't tell Skippy this prior to the reading, though, and she read the cards and said we could make a powerful business pairing (and that there was no romance whatsoever). Which was interesting, because I can't actually see myself going into business, especially retail of sound equipment. But we shall see. I was relieved to know it wasn't something romantic because I was so confused otherwise.
The second question was: 'What are Manisha's motives?' Manisha is a project management trainer I met last month during a breakfast seminar. She called me a few weeks ago about a business proposition and asked to meet up. Skippy read that Manisha wanted something, or required some skill that I had, to further a business and that she had a hidden agenda and was very good at covering it up because she was very well spoken. Well, since then I have discovered that Manisha wants me to join Network TwentyOne, which is the 'personal development program' attached to selling Amway.
The problem is that it has been two weeks and I still can't shake her. She IS very well spoken and won't give me a chance to say no. I was virtually kidnapped on Tuesday when I agreed to go to a meeting. I was told it started at 7:30 and went for an hour. However, I didn't realise it was in Silverwater (she had to drive me there) and that they let people in at 7:30 but it actually went from 8-9, followed by what can only be described as a recruiting session. I didn't get home until 11pm. And they (she and husband Daulat) keep lending me these really boring CDs which are full of all that crap like "follow your dreams", "hard work will have its rewards" etc etc. Aargh! Why do I always attract these barnacles?!?
Anyway, the real impetus for posting this week (it's easy to get out of the habit) is the strange number of things from the past that keep happening to me. I'll let you in on a few:
Last Monday night I couldn't sleep properly. I kept having these visions of my old primary school (Marayong Heights) and the really strong feeling that I should visit it. So on Wednesday I asked my boss for Thursday off, which he granted, and I went to my parents' house and picked up my mum's car and drove to my old house at 1 Solomon Avenue, Kings Park. The house looked impossibly small, as if it couldn't possibly fit the five of us and a dog. I was glad it was a baking hot day because I don't remember it ever being cold there.
I used to walk to school with my brother and a family friend of ours who lived on nearby Madagascar Drive. I didn't remember the way because I was only four then, but I plotted it out on the street directory and walked there in 10 minutes. I didn't recognise any of the houses or the streets along the way, but then I turned the corner and saw the footbridge over the rail line and something came very clearly to me: throwing gravel at the 8-something morning train. You can't do that now, there's a cover over the footbridge.
When I arrived at the school it was lunchtime and all the kids were playing. I made my way to the admin office and told the receptionist my mission and she let me sign in and claim a visitors badge. The school is tiny, just four buildings and a couple of demountables, really. The primary section has since been put to pasture, so the entire school is now in the former infants section. We'd moved away before I got to primary but I remember it was a REALLY long walk there once when I delivered a message to a teacher who happened to teach my brother, who was in the sixth grade. Everything is all shiny and new, but I could still recall the layout of the buildings. And the toilet block isn't so scary any more. The tour took 20 minutes.
I then drove to my high school (Baulkham Hills High School) to see if that would evoke something. After signing in at the front desk I turned around to see a roll for the class of 1998. I then proceeded to the trophy cabinet and there was my name as the very first recipient of the Senior Creative Writing award (1997). I wandered around all the main buildings and saw the new hall and theatre, then dared visit the English staff room. None of my old teachers were there (my favourite, Mrs Willis, had retired a couple of years ago but still comes to fill in occasionally, I was told) but two - Ms Goddard and Ms McAlister - recognised me and we chatted a bit.
I then went to the maths staff room to find my old year adviser and Year 12 maths teacher, Mr McFadden, but the room was empty. On my way out I bumped into Mr Ursino, who I had never had for maths but had every day for five years in rollcall. He recognised me but couldn't remember my name. Apparently he went to the recent 10-year reunion (the one I missed because I was told about it too late). He told me Mr McFadden was in room B17 if I wanted to catch him. I waited in the senior quad until the last bell rang, then popped my head in. Mr McFadden looked the same but greyer. Like Mr Ursino, he recognised me but couldn't remember my name but when I reminded him, remembered I was a writer.
Lastly I drove to my second primary school (West Pennant Hills Public School), which had been let out for the day but the admin lady signed me in and I wandered around. Apart from a renovated hall and two massive basketball courts (the mural I remember so well is no longer...) it actually looks the same.
I went home and rifled through a pile of photo albums. The purpose of this exercise was for my friend Alison's party 'Come as You Were' which was to find a photo of yourself under the age of 12 and dress as that photo. It was great! Heaps of really funny photos and photos of various types of atrocious fashion. One of my favourites was the one below:
What I noticed was that there are two 'cool' people in my family and the rest are dags. My dad and my sister are the cool ones, they manage to pull off nonchalance whatever they're wearing, whereas my mum, brother and I always manage to look cheesy. Except me when I was a baby. I was a grumpy baby, I rarely smiled.
Other evidence that my past is telling me something about my future, which I will elaborate on when I am not bleary-eyed having crawled into bed at dawn this morning:
* Young Achievers
* Eleesa
* Tim Lohman
No comments:
Post a Comment