headfuck

I am joining in with Shae’s things I know meme again this week because I know a lot of things and this is one way for me to share them without sounding like a know it all.

I know that reading Shae’s blog post this morning where she declares that she is farticus made me smile. No woman, I AM FARTICUS!

I know that small things often have a very big impact.

I commented on a post written by Eden Riley the other week and Eden sent me the shell she had photographed. This tiny tiny shell only a bit bigger than my thumbnail will soon have inspired a whole series of work.I pinched this photo from Eden’s blog.

When I am absentmindedly doodling, or when I let myself be transported to the quiet space within, these swirls in the shell are a recurring feature in my art work. Whether they are lines drawn in the clay with a wet finger, while I am thinking of other things or pen marks on the back of an envelope drawn while I am on hold to centrelink. These marks are always there just below the surface. I asked Eden for the shell because I liked the tiny blue swirl on the flat side and thought to use that as decoration in a pot. The  ridges and swirls on the underside of the shell were an unexpected bonus and I felt slightly disjointed for a while as I thought about beauty and destruction. I felt very strongly that the Earth Mother was saying, “See Kimmy, here I am again, listen to me,you need to make work of the earth.

I am trying not to listen to the planet as it screams at me to make more work, as it takes me such a long time to recover.I have held myself back from making any earth pots as the energy it takes is enormous. I am faffing about making bread and butter items for the shop, instead of dead bird bowls. I am more concerned with paying my rent than paying my dues and I have deliberately kept my shoes on to minimise the humming in my soul as the birds keep on dying.

This next series of photos illustrate what I mean. The post is here if you want to read about it Blood and Ashes, Oil and Despair. I couldn’t get the birds out of my head. The dead birds nagged at me until I made the work. And it took me weeks to recover from the making.

I know I started this post out on a humourous note declaring that, “No Shae, I AM Farticus!” and then I went to a darker place. It was as unexpected a journey to me my dear internets, as it was to you. I had just planned to touch lightly on the surface issue of friendships and small things making large differences when, “Bam” the birds ambushed me.

And so, here we are together again internet, just you and I on the cusp of another journey. I think I would like you to hold my hand please.

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I am not okay today.

by frogpondsrock on September 13, 2011

in Aspergers,Autism,Ehlers Danlos Syndrome,Grief,headfuck

I am far from okay but there isn’t a whole lot than anyone can do to make me better.

I also don’t see that anyone other than my very closest friend, asking me if I am okay are going to get a straight answer.

I will just lie and grin and say of course I am okay and then change the subject.

I am a brilliant actress.

RUOK is a wonderful concept but today it is giving me the shits.

Now before you start to get all upset with me and decide to lecture me about the ideas behing RUOK  and all that jazz.

This post is about me. Not about you.

If you are going to get upset with me, just piss off quickly and don’t give me the shits ok.

I am stabby enough as it is.

I am not okay today.

Tomorow I will be better, maybe.

The day my mother told me she had a black spot in her lung was one of those defining points in my life.

Everything now is measured in befores and afters.

The day my daughter was diagnosed with Ehlers Danlos Syndrome was another defining point

As was the diagnosis of her two chilfdren with EDS and their subsequent diagnosis of Aspergers and Autism.

My husband has Ehlers Danlos Syndrome.

My son has Ehlers Danlos Syndrome and suffers from anxiety.

These things are not okay.

These diagnosis dont bring sunshine and fucking roses into my life.

They bring despair.

Great fucking bucket loads of despair.

I am grieving.

I am grieving hard.

Lung cancer shouldnt have killed my Mother she was a non fucking smoker for fucksakes

My daughter shouldn’t have to struggle to brush her own hair.

She is 22 years old and can barely walk from one room to another.

Simply taking her children to the park exhausts her.

This sucks.

My son is 17 and is proving he is  grown up by rebelling against everthing we have taught him.

He has moved out of home.

He has dropped out of year eleven.

He was stabbed behind the ear in a brawl. The wound was superficial. My fear manifested as anger.

And I gave my son another reason to push me away.

He has unfriended me on facebook because I pulled him up privately on a thuggish racist status update.

I am desperately afraid that his anxiety will get the better of him.

I watched a police car driving up my quiet country road the other day and I was convinced it was coming here to deliver me bad news.

I started to cry with relief when it drove on by.

I know that this stage will pass but it doesnt make it any easier.

I share snippets of my life here on this blog.

Tiny slices.

I was told that I should have a professional ceramics blog and leave all the personal rubbish out of it if I wanted to be taken seriously as an artist.

But I cant be bothered starting a new blog  full of art wank and words and ideas that belong in a dusty book somewhere.

I use this blog to think out loud, to order my thoughts, my ceramics and my life are intertwined, as is the blog.

They all are a part of who I am.

Maybe RUOK has worked anyway

As I have cried and written my way through the shit that is in my head.

I am not okay today.

But I am feeling a tiny bit better, thank you for listening to me internet.

I will be okay tomorrow.

Because really what else is there to do but

Just keep swimming.

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An alternate title to this post could well be Dick Adams staff don’t care about his constituents opinions.

Dear Mr Adams,

Yesterday I decided to ring your office in Perth, Tasmania and voice my concerns about the offshore processing of refugees.

Your own website Mr Adams clearly states that

My priority as the Member for Lyons is to listen to the community and work in the best interests of all my constituents.

As your local Federal Member of Parliament, please feel free to seek assistance from me if you have any enquiries in your particular area.  My priority is dealing with those issues that are directly related with Federal Government such as Centrelink, Veterans Affairs, Health, Immigration, Superannuation to name a few.  I know there are other issues that cross all government boundaries and I am happy to help with those as well.

So I felt pretty confident that I could ring your office, politely tell you that I was concerned about the offshore processing of refugees and then I could happily go about my business, secure in the knowledge that my federal member was listening to me.

What I didn’t expect Mr Adams was your female staff member to be extremely condescending and dismissive of my concerns. I did not expect to be rudely asked where I had received my information about the governments refugee policy. I certainly did not expect to hear a tone of condescension and incredulity when I told your staff member that I receive my information about current affairs via twitter.

Twitter? She scoffed, as if I had just said I received my news bytes via the fairy telegram service at the bottom of the garden.

That was the end of the conversation as far as the office lady was concerned, I could hear the derision and laughter in her voice as she dismissed me as another bleeding heart, lefty, greenie nutter.

And that stung.

Way to go Mr Adams.

I would like to remind you Mr Adams that it is the 21st century. It is also the 21st century in Tasmania.

I use twitter as my main means of information gathering about all world events.

I tweeted my displeasure at your offices condescension and dismissal of my concerns to my 1518 followers

Kim
just rang Dick Adams office to say I was concerned about offshore processing of refugees. Office girl was very dismissive of my worries.

 

My tweet was then retweeted by two twitter friends within Tasmania with a combined following of 4053 people.

You do the maths Mr Adams, three people in Tasmania with a follow count of 5571 people between them, tweeting the one message.

That is a lot of fairies at the bottom of a lot of gardens.

Yours in despair,

Kim Ponds Rock

Southern Midlands.

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Otherwise my head might just explode and that would be very fucking messy.

Some people are just arseholes. There is nothing you can do about their inherent arseholiness other than stand by with your mouth agape and wonder where on earth they learned their low life skills.

Australia, the lucky country, the land of the fair go, home of the tall poppy syndrome.

Where if you start to shine a bit brighter than all the other stars out there some lowlife will always come along and decide to start throwing a bit of mud.

anonymously of course

*sigh*

Well,
what can I say. firstly congrats on the wedding, Really, you drug your child at 3 am with panadol, didnt you watch today tonights segment on the effects of medicating our children for a “good” nights sleep, oh thats right you have sold out to ACA and Kellogs for a measly few words on allergy free breakfast. Luckily – you didnt make an “idiot” of yourself.

Selling out? Where on earth has all this talk about selling out come from? Veronica has always had advertising on her blog and has always worked with brands.

Drugging her child? For fucks sake.  Amy was sick. You use paracetamol to reduce fever you idiot. You of all people should know that.

I am seriously grumpy today internet. Mainly because I am 99% certain I know who the anonymous arsehat is and that makes me very sad as well.

I am going to play in the garden today because I need to have my hands in the soil. I need to earth myself so that all the negativity is absorbed by the universe instead of fizzling around inside my head and fucking up my balance. And if you scoff at that as old hippy nonsense well then anonymous that is your loss and I advise you to remember that Mammon is a poor excuse for a  god.

I really should follow my own advice to Veronica when dealing with arseholes, which is to stand a little taller, square your shoulders and be secretly pleased that you chose today to wear your teflon shirt so that the shit these arseholes fling, just slides right off.

But I am having a bit of trouble with that advice right now.

Deadshits.

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When I am stressed I cry a lot over nothing, not big ugly heaving sobs, I save those ones for when I am in bed. I am talking about those annoying stray tears that escape when I am in the middle of a conversation and always take me unawares. The next big indicator that I am extremely stressed is when I begin to forget stuff.

I drove out to visit my daughter the other day specifically to deliver a set of ceramic cups,Von is flying to Sydney soon and had offered to hand deliver the cups for me. Halfway there I realised that I had left the cups on the studio bench. The whole point of the trip was to deliver the cups, how could I forget them?

Frustrated with myself I posted this facebook status

Drove out to visit Veronica specifically to drop off a set of ceramic cups that need to go to Sydney. Forgot to take the cups. Was given some eggs to bring home. Forgot to grab the eggs.

The sneaky aspect of stress is that I often don’t realise I am stressed at all, I just wander about the place making a mess, leaving a trail of half done jobs behind me and becoming increasingly grumpy with myself.

It wasn’t until a friend rang and commented that serious levels of forgetfulness aren’t like me at all. During the course of that conversation I started to cry small tears again because I had been slightly worried I was losing my marbles. My friend gently laughed at me and told me it was just stress.

One of the indicators of stress for me is I hide in the computer. I faff about on twitter and youtube following links to obscure news items and re-discovering forgotten songs.

This week I have been making a video. The obsessive nature of video editing and sound design perfectly suits me. I am always a bit surprised by the music I compose as I don’t particularly like synthetic beat boxy type rythms but I think it fits this short video.

How do you know when you are stressed?

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