waiting for you

could i wait for you, for them to approve your time on leave?

the thought of having to wait any longer seems like an impossible task.

yesterday, when my head was in the cloud of hope,

i felt so relieved - i knew that it would soon be over.

now the doubt and lingering question lies...

would i wait for you?

if it takes six months, it wouldn't be fair on either of us.

but say this is the case and we say that we'll part..

that wouldn't change the ache i have for you.

sure i'd go out and look, but when my heart is elsewhere...

it's hard to imagine being with someone else.

i know that there would be others, for both of us i guess.

but the want would occur in a meaningless way.

a substitution for you, a replacement of me.

thoughts that make me feel helpless and sick.

is this really something i have to consider?

we say we'll figure it out, if or when it happens.

but i don't even want it to be an option.

so i send you another message,

saying that i miss you... that i want you.

hoping you're reading the subtext and know what i am really saying.

a lost seagull

They glide effortlessly above the water,

the wind carrying their wings.

With no direction in mind,

they simply float...

for hours just existing above us.

I watch from my cosy bed and feel calmed,

something so graceful and freeing about them -

ignoring the fact that they are really just seagulls...

one's that have clearly lost their way.

The wind whistles through the gap in the window,

and makes the glass panel shudder.

I have no desire to face the outside world,

overcast and gloomy a standard morning welcome.

Beneath the covers and at a friends house,

there is no urgency for our day.

Recovering from wines of last night,

we will talk aimlessly about everything - no direction to our thoughts.

Enjoying in being,

relishing in the ease of our friendship...

there is no need to 'perform'.

Just pottering along and going where the wind takes us -

anywhere, so long as you've got your friend for the journey.

doubt

doubt in yourself is natural, everyone feels it at some point.

yet the damage it does is lasting, and often hard to shake.

doubt in my creative ability prevents me from publishing my play.

doubt in my teaching skills makes me question my career.

doubt in myself means i give no-one credit for wanting to be with me.

so i can see all this clear on paper and know that it is rubbish,

yet i can't shake it from my thoughts.

sometimes more prevalent then others, i need to create the doubt with itself.

turn it on itself like a virus until it's eaten away...

and all that remains is the feeling of it being there.

i need to not allow it to penetrate my personality and make me question myself.

'Handle with Care'

I am a giant nerd, and love nothing more than a good book.

So when choosing this one, a reliable author outweighed the melancholy subject.

However, just finishing it now, I feel extremely disappointed and angry.

Is it the topic I found so confronting? A mother who wishes she aborted her child due to a medical issue?

Is it that I feel it is a bit too close to home. Not medically of course, but a mother not 'wanting' her child.

Is it the memories of the court case I had resurfacing?

The children being dragged through it all and seeing their parents in a different light.

Maybe the broken family that happens way too often these days.

The thought terrifies me of the same thing happening one day to my unborn children.

Or is it simply because the author makes you struggle through the whole thing, feeling helpless for this little angle - and then kills her off anyway because of something completely random and unexpected.

Needless to say, I feel annoyed and frustrated after 500 pages.

Not a waste of time or read, but certainly enough not to pick up the same 'reliable author' for a little while.

Just to restore my faith in my favourite thing to do.

consumed

a thought of you and an automatic smile.

a text from you and i'm sent running across to get it.

your cuddles an instant support that i long for.

the touch of you and me literally makes my stomach flip.

i replay the moments,

trying to make them last till i can see you again.

next month potentially... still seems like too long.

i would give anything to have you here tonight.

with no structure to my thoughts of you,

my words seem stuck and cluttered...repetitive.

i want you.

i miss you,

clique - yet written for a reason.

does it do justice to the way i feel?

seemingly rushed and not developed,

yet a feeling like no other that i cannot stop reeling in.

unable to sleep or think clearly,

my thoughts of you are constant.

worry for you and how you're going.

happy for you to be enjoying time with your family and friends.

wanting you all to myself,

to consume every part of me in you...

not moving in any way other than to be closer to you.

sickly and completely pathetic -

besotted.

a feeling i just want more of.

warty weather worries

day seven of the year and the weather is relentless.

with only hours of what is apparently 'light', the best time of the day is spent at work.

leaving home in the meek hours of morning and arrive home in the late hours of night,

i feel like i'm in some soot infested city.

the rain pelts down, heavier in the afternoon then any time during the day.

trapped indoors looking out - my runners legs ache with necessity.

i vow that tomorrow, regardless of the winter worries,

i will prepare myself and embrace the cold.

run around the common in the dark, shivering and wet...

because that's as good as it's going to get.

above the clouds

the red dirt passes below me as i peer out the window.

clouds scattered like lost doves gives me a chance to see a world beneath.

a land that i am leaving behind.

the dirt road leads to somewhere,

a farmhouse nestled on the edge of a damn or a small lake.

the rains have come; yet it still looks so dry...

so barren and deserted.

the vast road with nothing in between,

the feeling of being out on the open plains.

this is something now that i instantly yearn for.

i go to explore other countries,

yet the desire to see my own is so imminent now that it is gone.

i watch for a few minutes,

enjoying the reprieve from the cramped economy seating i find myself in.

questions start to probe the nerves i have been avoiding.

what am I doing leaving this place?

one of such majestic beauty and peace,

one of solace and comfort of the knowing.

a land that is rightfully mine and where i belong.

to seek adventures and explore -

but i ask myself for how much longer can it continue for.

how much longer do i want to be gone?

the visa says a year, but my heart and head says less.

the ache of belonging,

of being content is creeping forcefully into my thoughts..

doubt for travel, for work... doubt for the future.

yet the direction of the plane is forward,

so the decision is made. for now.

me against the masses

The fear of returning to London teaching was almost enough to make me stay in AUS. Imagine my surprise then, when yesterday as I walked trembling through those familiar doors, I heard shouts of happiness of my return. Not only this, but the students were close to lovely, almost all day! To my complete astonishment, I left feeling pretty good and comfortable about being back. My walk to the train station was brisk and almost positive, except for reality sitting in the back of my thoughts telling me it would be different tomorrow. How right it was.

Today was back to the usual, except the clarity I had on the situation slightly different. Is it any wonder that the kids are feral, when the system and more disappointingly, the teachers fail them. Being a 'cover teacher' you accept the crap: the abuse, the room changes and lackness of knowing anything about the way the school is run. However, one thing that I cannot tolerate, is the ill prepared teachers and their lack of exciting or even relevant work for the students. Twenty-three students in the class and 5 text books is apparently appropriate to read and work from. How does this work? It's called drama people, and we are going to adapt it to this subject. Extensive research questions when the kids can't even type in their own name, let alone try and read mass amounts of text to decipher and analyse information. Do they not know their students after 9 months? Do they not realise what is realistic and suitable?

Don't get me wrong, I get the stress of teachers in the job and trying to create cover work that relates, but the hurdles I have to jump become insurmountable when I don't even have the basics resources. I then have to try and keep the kids under control and invent work that is relevant and exciting to keep them entertained for an hour and a half. Is this my job? Maybe that's what a 'crowd control supply teacher' does. I must be mistaken. Is it really so wrong to want to try and help these kids, to want the best for them. Should we all not be on the same page then and work together - not against each other for the sake of being fucking incompetent and delusional.