Jack has this awesome toy at the moment, it’s a hand-length, sticky centipede that you throw at the wall or roof and it slowly peels itself off, to be caught or whatever. Jack has decided it’s his ‘spider’ and he loves it. He likes the real things too, sometimes. Usually when he sees one he tries to pick it up – giving me mini heart attacks in the process – or, he stomps decidedly on it, which I generally prefer, although I find hard to do myself. It’s very much play or die in our place, according to Jack.
I think the fear of things is mostly learned – any psych people feel free to correct me here. My brother and I used to love Huntsman spiders. Yes, we really did, we called them ‘Mateys’ and were thrilled to the back teeth when they hung out in our rooms for a week or so as we understood they ate all the bad spiders. When I see one on the wall or roof now, however, I am absolutely certain if I go anywhere near them they will go all kamikaze and thrown themselves into my hair or something. Of which, would cause me to certainly die on the spot. Continue reading
I feel bad for my Mum at the moment. I’m sure she’s getting limited sleep due to worry. She’s already one of those people that is trying to pack fifteen lives into one, so she’s pretty busy and quite likely doesn’t give herself time for her regular 8 hours regardless. But that’s not why I currently feel bad; it’s because even though I think she is over reacting, I understand.
My brother lives at the other end of the country to us and struggled for a few months to get work. He’s recently found some on a prawn trawler, a boat that goes out on the ocean for weeks, almost months, at a time. The weather and work can be unpredictable, and the people are individuals you probably haven’t met before, let alone worked with. So naturally, Mum is constantly worried about him.
I have a great example of how things have changed in a noticeable way for me over the last twenty years. My example is car sound systems, and I’ve watched it progress in the nature of the side of the road.
I don’t exactly know much about the first stage of mobile audio entertainment, but I imagine it was a crackly and unpredictable AM radio.
Cassette tapes are an item I remember very well. We recorded our own to take in the car, songs cutting straight from one to the other not quite at the end or the start, and often as the radio presenters spoke. The gentle swaying of the surprisingly long brown shimmering innards of cassettes on the side of the road, discarded for various reasons out of car windows.
The sound of a CD when they were released was much clearer and they were more user friendly, turning over and rewinding of a cassette no longer required. But the disks were fickle items, a single good scratch – which was easy to attain – rendering the disk useless, these too were piffed out windows, all the colours of the rainbow throwing prisms brightly at you from roadside grasses as you drove along. Continue reading
Chocolate Chips and Bugs…
Did any of you know that chocolate chips and bugs really look quite similar? It’s an association I hadn’t made before now, but when a pair of pudgy fingers are pinching a small dark object and holding it out saying ‘For you, Mummy, for you,’ it can be hard to tell if it’s a chocolate chip plucked from a muesli bar, or a segment of a cockroach found on the floor. Continue reading
For this writing activity, I asked the wonderful people from my ‘Melissa Black’ Facebook group to help me out. I requested they supply me with the following; a phobia, music genre, day of the week, kitchen utensil and Australian animal. I chose one of each randomly from the answers I got. We had hypnophobia (fear of sleep), rock music, Tuesday, measuring cup and kookaburra. Then I got them to choose between the words ‘and’ and ‘the’, one of which I could not use in the story. We landed on ‘the’. Following is the story I came up with, please feel free to comment or write your own along the same guidelines! Let me know if you see the word ‘the’ anywhere!
Not many people understand why I am how I am. I don’t like it, this fear of sleep that I possess, it’s debilitating and frustrating, and most certainly not purposeful. I get a few hours a night – awful broken sleep patterns full of terror and paranoia – this is my rotten routine.
It all started on a Tuesday, that fateful horrible Tuesday afternoon, and every night I’m dragged back to what I can describe only as ‘Freddy Kruger Land’. Enter sandman? Enter mind screw more like it. I fight as hard as possible, I don’t want to sleep, but apparently humans need it to survive. Continue reading