Just call me "Chopper"

Tuesday, 18 December 2007

Who ever said relocating to the provinces is a downward career move? To sum up the past year from a vocational perspective …well it's been interesting. Let me see, I’ve been apple bobbing, carried out roading inspections, wandered around sawmills in the middle of nowhere, worked for some large NZ companies, joined a local internet cluster, and learned lots about totally random things like aviation communication systems and battery banks. An upcoming assignment will see me being helicoptered to work in Golden Bay to project manage a property refit for someone who owns half the South Island. Just where will it stop I wonder?

One thing is for sure, life in Thea’s world is never dull. Freelancing from the provinces suits me just fine.

Growing out

Thursday, 6 December 2007

I tapped this poem out the other night when I had nothing better to do. I showed it to a new friend of mine; someone I hardly know but with whom I share a similar wave length. Their response made me cry. That's not to say they didn't like it, but sometimes I forget how much people can see me.

Why is it called growing up when surely it’s more like growing out? Body and mind expand in all kinds of unexpected directions. And never stop.

At some point you learn to tie your own shoes and balance on a bike. Facts, figures and crafty techniques become forever embossed in the brain. Talents honed.

Gems of knowledge previously scoffed at in folly as old wives tales are proved correct and finally start sticking to the sides. A new appreciation for the wisdom of age and experience. And you learn never to say never, because you just never know.

Emotions become friends. Once the realisation hits that they are intended to be felt and not suppressed. Understanding the beauty and simplicity of like attracts like. It’s called smiling from your soul and living in now. Why would you want to waste a single moment?

Fear. Mostly it never happens, unless dwelled upon too long. The deepest and darkest are best looked at straight in the face and firmly requested to move on. No vagrants here please.

Here I find my limbs outstretched ready to embrace. Like the Pilates class of being. Spirit fingers tingle, feeling for life’s texture in some kind of Braille. But then, I’m only 33 and two thirds. What would I know really?

Dreams to reality

Sunday, 2 December 2007

As a wee tacker (ie. probably up until last year) on Sunday family outings I used to pretend my imaginery horse in my imaginery horse float was being towed around behind my Dad’s Mitsi Mirage. Yeah, an active imagination was essential growing up in Wangavegas.

A warning to all road users; this could soon be me - only on a much bigger scale eh. The horse is the right colour though. Do you think visioning 2 tonnes on the back of my Barbie jeep in my sleep will help with the new real life reversing skills I’ll have to come to grips with? I swear it used to help whilst learning to swim when I was six. It’s alright, I’ve got a huge carpark to practice in at the orchard before I go public ;P