Gasping for Air

I'm gasping for air. And I've a Perfect Right to.

Honestly, I feel like I've been transported to a movie where everyone is all hot & steamy & sweating. Like perhaps 'Streetcar Named Desire'. But I can't decide what character I'd be because I don't like any of them. Definitely NOt Blanche. Although I do like her name. Blanche Du Bois. It is soo much more romantic & lyrical than Middleagedteacher.

I just checked iGoogle's Weather Vane & it told me that it was 29 degrees celsius.

And its almost my bedtime.

Panic has just set in.

The Gasping Girls in my painting above that I completely renovated this past weekend are all more or less panicking. But certainly not over the weather. No, they have more Existential Concerns, shall we say.

I'm now trying to think of other movies where Everyone Sweated. And in fact I've just come up with a new genre of film - 'Sweating Movies'.

Humphrey Bogart sweated his way through a whole load of films, I'm sure. Wasn't there one with Lauren Bacall that featured overhead fans & Sydney Greenstreet looking oily wearing a white linen suit like they used to wear in the tropics & sucking on a cigar?

And then of course there was 'The African Queen' where Bogie sweated all over Prim Kate Hepburn. She didn't like it at first, but then of course did at the end.

I will now hop into bed. I hope I won't drown.

More Than This

I know that I'm always late in reporting news.

But I have a Holographic View of Time. I'm not sure that I totally understand what that means, but I know that I have it.

Please feel free to use this expression at will. I'm sure it will come in handy when Explaining Tardiness to friends, family & work colleagues.

Look look look, above. It is the cover of an Australian Magazine called 'Rush'. I'm not sure why its called that. Maybe because of the Big High that readers get each month when they excitedly peruse the pages. More like a Big Yawn.

Now that was Quite Nasty.

Anyway, the magazine is from some time last year. I've only recently come upon it because it was part of a Large Pile that my friend Sherman gave me last week. He's in PR. Magazines are the lifeblood of His Industry.

I stared at the model on the cover. I thought she looked surly.

I looked again. Something was happening to me. But I knew not what.

Then I looked inside.

I found an article about her.

Her name was Daul Kim. She said that she liked to treat herself with a Fur Coat once in a while because she was miserable (or a word like that) most of the time.

Soon, I became aware that My Internal Computer had begun an Unsolicited Search.

In no time, Unsolicited Search Results popped up:

This person killed herself.

I then looked again at the cover.

I couldn't believe the text - 'More Than This'.

How right were they?

This is a Great Message, If Only You Can Read It.

I just loved the card that my friend Marge sent me in what seems by now to be a Bottomless Parcel.

Boy, am I getting some mileage out of her. 

Hope I'm not Officially Sliding into Overkill.

In case you can't read the tiny text, it says, 'Life is what you make it. Always has been. Always will.' - Grandma Moses.

Tears

I wonder if anybody has ever bothered to calculate how many tears the average person sheds in their lifetime?

I guess it would be an impossible task . 

And say if you really could calculate a Lifetime's Tears, would you count the tears you've shed at movies, or when you've sung the National Anthem, or when you watched a Gay Pride Parade? Are they Real Tears anyway?

For almost my entire life there are two things that always make me Cry Like Clockwork - 1. pictures of Jackie Kennedy at President Kennedy's funeral. 2. Watching our annual Anzac Day March of War Veterans on TV.

I can also get a big Tear-Up if I listen to Martin Luther King's, 'I have a Dream' speech. 

 Oh, & I just remembered The Mother of All Tear-Making Speeches - Churchill's wartime, 'We will never surrender' speech. I'm now crying as I'm typing, just at the thought of it.

Birthdays, or more specifically, My Birthday has always had a Tear Component. I remember when I cried at school on my sixth birthday, a Horrible Nun said to me, 'Dear, if you cry on your birthday, you cry for the rest of the year'. 

Thanks, Sister Arsehole. That wonderful Gem of Wisdom really helped.

Hope you like my artwork.

Violence, Betrayal & Humiliation: Just Apply Lip Gloss.

You can see by the rather brazen way I'm applying lip gloss that it's Party Time. Yep, it's the end of term. OH, I know, us teachers are ALWAYS on holidays. When everyone else is slaving at work, we're living a Jetsetter Lifestyle, popping in on the World's Glamour Spots in our private jets. These hols I'm off to LA which is an unexpected trip as I was there in January, when I was on, yes Another Holiday.
I'm standing in front of the remains of my last lesson of the term with my senior class. Each girl had to tell a story from Kindergarten, beginning with me. Of course, I've got a whole range of horrendous Kindergarten Stories because I had a Pre-Vatican 2 Catholic Gothic Education. At the height of the Cold War, Sister M. Rosalia told us eager five year olds that if we weren't good & didn't pray to Our Lady of Lourdes or Fatima, The Russians would come down & drag us from under our beds & possibly kill us. It took me years to get over that one. She also told us that if we wanted to experience the Pain of Hell we should go home that day & turn the gas on the stove & stick our finger under the flame, just for a minute. That would give us an idea what it would be like, in case we were wondering.
Of course I thought that no one could top my stories, but I was wrong.
Stephanie told of a boy who stood on a seat in the playground & on purpose, with everyone watching, jumped on a pigeon & decapitated it. The whole class had to have counselling.
Lizzie admitted that she told her teacher that her cousin had just died when she hadn't. Everyone furiously made Sympathy Cards until the teacher rang her Mum & the truth was exposed.
Just about all the stories were about Violence, Betrayal, Brutality, Humiliation & Scapegoating. Sounds like the stuff of Lear to me. Who said Childhood Was Fun?

The Sincere Library

Our staffroom at school is full of strange items, like fake fur stoles & bottles of evil-tasting sweet liquors hidden in filing cabinets. It's a regular little Pandora's Box, which is not surprising considering the people who work in there. Last week, while chatting on the phone I spied a large collection of little pulp romance novels , made in the sixties by The Sincere Library. I immediately pounced on them, photographed the covers & then hauled them off to class for Year 9 to read. They liked the covers more than the stories.

Existentialist Thoughts for the Day

Existentialist Thought for the Day