Not the Brightest Light on the Christmas Tree

I love this time of year. I’ve already got the tree up and listened to some Christmas carols several times over.

I’ve sung these carols since I was a child, so it’s no surprise that mis-heard lyrics have carried into adulthood, and I think this can be forgiven. But.

What I’m about to confess to next perhaps not so.

 

You know the bit where they give the tree a trim?

Yeah, well. They’re not cutting it back, they’re decorating it. This occurred to me TODAY.

In my defence, my recording says ‘a trim’ not ‘the trim’.

My husband says I’m imaging that last bit. It’s definitely ‘the trim’.

Anyway. Go back to what ever it was you were doing.

Nothing to read here.

Excuses, Something else, Nano Poblano

Day 30. The final day. Last post of the month. I blogged every day in November!

HUZZAH!

*Clears throat*

Well.

Almost.

I kind of succeeded 93% of the time. I blogged 28/30 days. Which is a 7% fail. Which is still 28 more posts I might have done otherwise. But also. I’m not sure if that’s how this works.

And while I say 93% success, I cheated on some of those. Cheated within the rules but against my own brain’s blogging standards. Brain expects more than simply blogging everyday. Brain says I have to write proper, meaningful posts. Photo-posts are a no-no, imbedding music videos with the hashtag ‘currentmood’ doesn’t meet the grade. A post where I waffle on with excuses of tiredness – CODSWALLOP!

Which means Brain thinks I had a 56.6% success rate. I can round that figure up, right?

Fortunately for me, in recent years, I’m better at ignoring that part of my brain.

So, thank you team Cheer Peppers! Thank you to those who found the time to read my posts and those who were able to leave a comment. Thank you Ra, for Nano Poblano.

Well done everyone, whatever your success rate – never forget that you blog for yourself!

*Group hug*


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Festivities

It feels as though time is in short supply. Usually I put up the Christmas tree on the last weekend in November, but with other commitments this weekend it didn’t happen. Next weekend isn’t looking great either so I’ve spent the evening raising the Christmas tree!

With my Christmas enthusiasm, this isn’t a quick task. So I find myself neck-deep in boxes, sneezing from the dust with the decorations mostly up.

It’s late now though, and with work tomorrow and a caffeine free beverage at my side, I shall post a quick cheerful photo of some of my favourite decorations and then head towards sleep…

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Goodnight.


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Dear School Children

[Bear with me. I’ve just visited Alvan’s blog and I began to leave a very long comment before I realised I could actually write it here. I hope it makes sense before I fall asleep on the keys.]

Alvan’s post talks about PSLE scores, or Primary School Leaving examination scores – I had to look the acronym up. While I know nothing about the systems in Singapore, school children everywhere are subjected to a nationwide scoring system which allegedly determines their further education or career opportunities. Australia is no different.

I understand why we need this and I understand why it’s useless.

They have to create a comparative measure – a measure that judges you against your peers and judges schools against schools. Hopefully, it makes the schools and their students work harder and be better. Maybe this works sometimes. Unfortunately too (and YAY!), everyone is different. Exams aren’t necessarily the best way to determines a person’s capabilities. Some people are better at showing than explaining. Some people are better at drawing than writing. Some people are better at dot-points than essays. We don’t fit neatly into a one-size-fits-all education system but this is what we’re offered.

During my time as a teacher, often my biggest challenge was to differentiate between those who didn’t understand and those who simply couldn’t express themselves. During university, a section of my psychology exam was multiple choice because a recent study had determined it was a better way to convey understanding. I hated it. The choices were so similar they only served to confuse me and it annoyed me that students who hadn’t bothered to study still had a 1/5 chance of getting it right.

Sometimes we receive our education before we’re really ready for it. My husband, for example, wished he’d paid more attention during metalwork class. He took that class twenty years ago – the thing is, he’s only interested in it now.

The further you travel through life the more pointless these systems feel. Unfortunately, when you’re in the them, living them – they feel like failure or success.

Recently, I read through a résumé and while I believed they were qualified for the job I wondered if they were actually nice. This thought was probably my mother’s fault who always said she wanted two things from her children, to be our best and be good people. Mum valued the latter more.

I was one of those kids who wore myself out being my better-best. This was mostly because I wanted to be as intelligent as my brother. He told me years later he wished he had my practicality and people skills. I went through university only to find work in a totally different field. My husband dropped out of university and took on vocational training to (economically at least) get a better job than me. This is fact, not failure.

Success would be better if it were measured in kindness but the is the system is more analytical. Numbers on paper. Crosses and ticks.

All you can do is be your best, work hard for what you want and be a good person.

You’ll be okay.

 

Reality Anonymous

The me you read here, is the real me.

While this is my anonymous space, I’m sure that if someone from my real world found this blog, they would recognise me.

I have a friend (also happens to be my cousin), who knows I’m here. My online friends know I’m here.

That’s it.

Sometimes I’m more me here as I share my struggles with anxiety disorder, my thoughts, quaint anecdotes, hopes and fears.

Sometimes I’m less me here as I have to contain those conversations to keep my reality anonymous.

I want to write about events in my life. I toy with changing names but still it feels too close to my heart. It feels so transparent that anyone could deduce who I spoke of. So I keep quiet. Remain vague. Deflect certain topics. Stay hidden.

Then I wonder if I’m protecting myself from strangers or people who know my reality.

Still. That’s a whole other tangent. And it’s not to imply I’d start to speak ill of people if I dropped my guard, only that sometimes I envy those who show themselves wholly with grace, kindness and confidence.

Sometimes I wish that could be me.


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Day #25