Say hello to Jamil. From Sydney. If there were a few more of these around I would take it up myself Does rather focus the attention somewhere south, doesn’t it? Imagine …. oh my ….

Please to look behind the cut…

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It’s officially September 11 now here in Australia. My love goes out to everyone in the USA.

Six years ago … travelling Amtrak solo from Chicago to Las Vegas, New Mexico.

Woken up by sun pouring in the window, viewing the gorgeous stark flat countryside and rubbing myself all over because I had to try and sleep in the seats.

Go on down to the smoking carriage at around 8am. All the usual suspects are there. The great thing about being a smoker and travelling by Amtrak is the people you get to meet (although I’m very glad that I’m no longer a smoker). An elderly gentelman, who is very verbose and annoying the crap out of everyone. He had a brain injury. The black woman I was sitting next to, who was very admiring of my ability to be patient with the old guy, whispering “no wonder you do the job you do”. She was gorgeous. Had a great conversation with her about racism in the Eastern states (I think in particular Philadelphia) as opposed to racism in LA. The young couple who couldn’t keep their hands off each other, and who berated the old guy for calling Asians “orientals” (“One of my best friends adopted an oriental girl, and she is SMART!!!” he stated, amongst a lot of other rather dubious comments – I don’t know whether he was surprised by the fact that the girl was smart, or the remark was a confirmation of a ‘all black men have big dicks and can dance’ sort of generalisation). The guy with the black and blue and broken face, who managed to somehow get it on with the woman who was asking everyone for advice about following the scumbag she loved down south. The girl with the southern accent and the big hair and the chewing gum cud who let us know how “all them Jerry Springer shows are shit … it’s all a big set up. I know cuz my cousin went on there”.

Get told by the yummy black porter that the Pentagon has been blown up. “Nah, it’s some kind of joke. That can’t happen. No-one can blow up the Pentagon. It’s the PENTAGON for God’s sake!”. No no no, he assured me, it’s true. Then he told me about the World Trade Centre. Went back up to my smoke-free seat to plug my ears up with my walkman and stare out at the countryside passing by, disturbed. The train stops.

We are at La Junta, Colorado. Looks like a one-stop light town (which, lets face it, is one more stop-light than we have where I live). We all end up inside the waiting room at the station, where, incredibly, there is a television. We watch the planes flying into the twin towers. Over and over again. There are line ups for the pay phones. I panic. I line up to call the Australian Embassy (embarrassed chuckle – I guess that was kind of a Spalding Gray moment). I tell the two Japanese girls in front of me they might want to do the same. The Turkish guy who’s chatting them up looks at me in disgust and asks me “why would they want to do that?” I want to know how I am going to get home to Australia. What should I do. I want OUT. I also need to call Susan, my friend in New Mexico to say “hey, I might be a little late here, hours, days, I dunno”. Apparently they are checking all of the train tracks in the whole bloody country and we weren’t allowed to move on until that is done.

I see two things that devastate me. First, a young girl with a baby in a pram. She is crying her eyes out, absolutely distraught. I ask one of the other smokers what her story is. “She’s in the army reserves. She only just got custody of her little girl and now she is probably going to be called up”. Then I am standing on the platform, talking with the lovely elderly couple I had dinner with in the dining car the night before, and a guy who has hot footed it over to the station to hand out “I Love La Junta” badges. Gotta love opportunism. He turns out to be a journalist. The elderly couple turn away, arms around each other. The look of grief on their faces is so very very sad. The badge-toting guy says “that’s the face of America you see right there”. OUCH. That really hurt me. My heart ached for America and everyone in it.

Four hours later we did get moving, although the rest of the journey was taken at snails pace (I am not kidding) and late that afternoon I finally get off the train at Las Vegas New Mexico. Once I am back at Susan’s it’s hurried phone calls to Australia to let everyone know I was okay, and online to chat with friends in the US who were worried.

They’re my memories. My one trip to the US… what a historic one.

Currently reading : Astral Dynamics: A New Approach to Out-of-Body Experiences By Robert Bruce Release date: November, 1999

Irony. I sit here looking at the blank screen not knowing how to begin.

Yesterday I took the first definitive step in what is the beginning of my new life. How incredibly trite and cliched that sounds. But it is true. I kind of wish it could truly be a case of tabula rasa. I guess it is kind of a rebirth in a way but not with a blank slate. I’ve alluded to big life changes before and this time of my life is going to be one of the most traumatic I have ever and will ever have to go through. And hopefully … the most freeing.

Yesterday I made an application for undergrad enrolment at university … Central Queensland University to be exact ( which to my mind really means Northern Queensland University – it’s campuses being waaaaaaaaay up on the humid tropical Queensland coast – I hope to God I don’t have to attend a residential school at any time). Living where I am I have no choice but to study by distance education, and this uni is the only one that offers both of the programs of courses I want to do.

I will be studying Literary Studies (or Literary & Culture – haven’t made up my mind yet) and Film Studies (both literature and film being huge passions of mine as any regular readers of this blog would know). I would like to do a double major – have both as majors, if they allow it because both are specialised BA degrees, rather than one as a major and one as a minor, but we shall see.

All that remains now is to pay for the application and dig out the old transcript of record from the college I went to for welfare studies (“college” does not mean university in Australia … the highest you can get in college is a diploma) and get it certified and send that off. Apparently based on my previous study I can get in easily … the ranking score is more than high enough. I didn’t even bother to mention starting an undergrad psychology with honours degree earlier … I was barely into it before my sister’s brain tumour was diagnosed and I dropped that. Nope – no desire to continue with psychology. I want to study something I will enjoy.

Now I’m terrified. Of course. I was terrified when I started the welfare course, but I ended up acing that and coming top of the class. I know I can do it … but I’m terrified anyway … I guess the old fear of failure thing. Distance study requires extraordinary dedication and organisation but … next year … things are going to be such a whirlpool I hope I can manage it. I am better having to go to class, but I don’t have that option. *shudder* Yes, I’m frightened, excited, anxious …

Bring it on–I think.

I’m a big proponent of coffee and chocolate as therapy. And I’m indulging my little fit of sadness right now.

Today, for a couple of hours, is a reflective – teensy bit sad day. One step closer to my little boy growing up, one step closer to him being less reliant on Mummy and developing peer relationships.

Today was (is – right now) his orientation morning at ‘big school’ … at one of the local public schools, because he starts big school next year. It’s not like I’m not used to him being away from me at all. He sleeps at his grandparents (father’s side) Sunday nights and spends the day with them Mondays. Tuesdays and Wednesdays he goes to daycare/preschool. So leaving him at the school for a couple of hours shouldn’t be a big deal, right? Well it isn’t … really. But it is a gradual movement from little-boyhood to big-boyhood. A big rite of passage really. It’s the beginning of the shift.

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