This is a little corner for mum.
She's a mum,
She's beautiful.
She's a friend.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Kristy Young
Her first photoshoot. can you believe it? She was/is amazing. Fromt he moment she walked in, I was inspired. Her mum was there in the background as the stylist and wow. I had so much fun. My abs got a workout too.
Friday, September 25, 2009
Break down/Break through
Ok I'm not sure if its the reality of the situation, or if my judgement is completely impaired because I am obviously the one thinking it. But things - things meaning- people, stress levels, emotions, philosophies etc.............are crazy at the moment.
I feel like I am standing on what I used to think was concrete, only to find its melting ice and I'm slipping over, I look up to find help- only to find everyone else falling too.
I might also add- to make myself feel a bit better, that this is relative to my environment- which is as a graduating student at Avondale.
My little happy-go-lucky bubble is dissolving, I used to fluff around and not even think that things like permanence and consequences and cause and effect and cynicism and sarcasm existed let alone take over my world.
I'm learning things like how by 2020 depression will be the number one mental illness in teens and that no matter what we do- kids will still die and the world is in recession and tsunamis, hurricanes and yes I'll say it...dust storms hit home.
The world as an environment used to be non-negotiable- it existed, don't litter, but its there. But that's all changing- the world is scared of its own power to destruct.
This world is crying out. Leaders, teachers, governments and even pastors are headless chickens flapping around. Its no wonder we are moving away from the pick and mix post-modern philosophy. This world is crying out for the concrete again. Something infallible, something we can blindly trust.
Even though I am a Christian, a passionate one, I am scared. I am scared because the gap between the leaders and the people is closing in. I've been in enough board/bored meetings now to realise that even the highest of all infallible authorities are scared, uncertain sinners.
I don't like all this new found knowledge. I don't like how now I am being called to be a teacher to students in this new world that's changing before my eyes. But then on the other hand. I am ready.
Why am I worried and scared? The world is going to end- this world. I know that, I grew up with Sabbath schools themed to it. I have known all my life that even the rocks will cry out. That by the time Jesus comes, we will be crying out to be swept away from this pain.
Won't that be amazing, I can see my philosophy changing before my eyes. Wow. no more pain. Again with the cliche's I learnt in my memory gems. but seriously. In my sphere (my bubble of being) there is so much stress, awareness of pain and rejection. This world is an absolute mess. I can see why we are moving away from post-modern, it has all been preparation for Jesus to come back.
Now we are moving away from self-reliance to the terrifying truth that we are not in control of our own universe- physically, symbolically or emotionally.
No more pain. No more sadness. No more tension. I go to the city and no-one talks. No more strangers.
Its happening. Its now.
This awareness is a good thing. This is a huge ramble- mostly for my benefit. I got overwhelmed like none other, but wow. Typing this has revelled- well God has revelled through my rant- he is hearing us. He is about to swoop in and pick us up.
He's there. He's crying out to us.
I'm ready.
I feel sick, yet excited.
Its like the world in its self-absorbed state wasn't ready for God to return and save us. And he knew it.
It is only now when we realise the world we once 'controlled' is controlling us, do we cry out in blindness. Grappling around in the dark, tripping over objects on fallen on the ground only to find they are our leaders and who we blindly trusted.
We need God now. And he knows it.
He is calling us with the knowledge. I'm calling 'us' the ones with the full pathfinder sash and the history of sitting still on trains.
I know it is mid-night and I'm in a moment of spirit-led; thirst quenching revelry, but we need to shout. We need to be the rock for those who don't have this gift.
Why do we have this knowledge? No Christian is exempt. We are all guilty of hiding it under a bushel. With the gift of knowledge comes the burden of sharing.
But no, its not a burden, when its God inspired and not self driven, he will inspire, equip and deliver us. It when we do things in our name our christan t'duty' to share the truth become a chore.
Far out this terror is transformational. Its calling me to action.
Anyway what the crux of it is. Let's be the rocks in our own post 'post modern' worlds, let's tell the world the truth.
Actually, let's show the world.
I feel like I am standing on what I used to think was concrete, only to find its melting ice and I'm slipping over, I look up to find help- only to find everyone else falling too.
I might also add- to make myself feel a bit better, that this is relative to my environment- which is as a graduating student at Avondale.
My little happy-go-lucky bubble is dissolving, I used to fluff around and not even think that things like permanence and consequences and cause and effect and cynicism and sarcasm existed let alone take over my world.
I'm learning things like how by 2020 depression will be the number one mental illness in teens and that no matter what we do- kids will still die and the world is in recession and tsunamis, hurricanes and yes I'll say it...dust storms hit home.
The world as an environment used to be non-negotiable- it existed, don't litter, but its there. But that's all changing- the world is scared of its own power to destruct.
This world is crying out. Leaders, teachers, governments and even pastors are headless chickens flapping around. Its no wonder we are moving away from the pick and mix post-modern philosophy. This world is crying out for the concrete again. Something infallible, something we can blindly trust.
Even though I am a Christian, a passionate one, I am scared. I am scared because the gap between the leaders and the people is closing in. I've been in enough board/bored meetings now to realise that even the highest of all infallible authorities are scared, uncertain sinners.
I don't like all this new found knowledge. I don't like how now I am being called to be a teacher to students in this new world that's changing before my eyes. But then on the other hand. I am ready.
Why am I worried and scared? The world is going to end- this world. I know that, I grew up with Sabbath schools themed to it. I have known all my life that even the rocks will cry out. That by the time Jesus comes, we will be crying out to be swept away from this pain.
Won't that be amazing, I can see my philosophy changing before my eyes. Wow. no more pain. Again with the cliche's I learnt in my memory gems. but seriously. In my sphere (my bubble of being) there is so much stress, awareness of pain and rejection. This world is an absolute mess. I can see why we are moving away from post-modern, it has all been preparation for Jesus to come back.
Now we are moving away from self-reliance to the terrifying truth that we are not in control of our own universe- physically, symbolically or emotionally.
No more pain. No more sadness. No more tension. I go to the city and no-one talks. No more strangers.
Its happening. Its now.
This awareness is a good thing. This is a huge ramble- mostly for my benefit. I got overwhelmed like none other, but wow. Typing this has revelled- well God has revelled through my rant- he is hearing us. He is about to swoop in and pick us up.
He's there. He's crying out to us.
I'm ready.
I feel sick, yet excited.
Its like the world in its self-absorbed state wasn't ready for God to return and save us. And he knew it.
It is only now when we realise the world we once 'controlled' is controlling us, do we cry out in blindness. Grappling around in the dark, tripping over objects on fallen on the ground only to find they are our leaders and who we blindly trusted.
We need God now. And he knows it.
He is calling us with the knowledge. I'm calling 'us' the ones with the full pathfinder sash and the history of sitting still on trains.
I know it is mid-night and I'm in a moment of spirit-led; thirst quenching revelry, but we need to shout. We need to be the rock for those who don't have this gift.
Why do we have this knowledge? No Christian is exempt. We are all guilty of hiding it under a bushel. With the gift of knowledge comes the burden of sharing.
But no, its not a burden, when its God inspired and not self driven, he will inspire, equip and deliver us. It when we do things in our name our christan t'duty' to share the truth become a chore.
Far out this terror is transformational. Its calling me to action.
Anyway what the crux of it is. Let's be the rocks in our own post 'post modern' worlds, let's tell the world the truth.
Actually, let's show the world.
My sister Jodes.
This is my adopted piece of love. She is amazing. Totally my sister in every way. I was visiting her in Melbourne and we were shopping up a storm. And we went down an amazing alley way. It was taken on her camera. I love Melbourne. I love alleyway's, I love my sister Jody.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Krystle.
The HOTTEST cat alive.
These pics were taken at the Newcastle coffee and chocolate festival. Oh I love alley's.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Teaching drums on a table and other bedtime stories
So I’m on this Practicum that is so close to reality that I feel I just have to document it to remember it.
Normal Prac’s are a warm ball of idealistic word counts and theorist haziness. Everything can be improved and analysed for the greater good of the students.
Here’s the background to my current existence:
Once a yr for the last 3 yrs I’ve been dumped unceremoniously into an unsuspecting school on Prac–for as little as 2 weeks up to (this year) 2 months. On this Prac I write over the legal word limit, I nod off in class while ‘watching’ my supervisor wow me with their brilliance and nod my head when ever they blather to me about why they feel they are the best teacher. I then hide in the photocopy room for lunch or if I really daring- I walk around the playground (why do they call it that- high schoolers don’t “play”) and pretend I’m on duty- all in a daft effort to avoid other staff preying on a victim ear to vent their cynicism. I also invent elaborate tales as to where I’ve come from and what experience I have to justify my presence in a class full of well- lets be obvious here- students.
This is the Foreground:
I’m at this 2000+ (I’m sure I’ll have to know the statics accurately shortly) public school. Its uniform is stock standard moss green, with tartan lower half. Its co-ed and there are over 200 teacher/support staff. The staff room is themed bright red and blue with modern furnishing. The art dept still use blackboard while the music dept is a sharp contrast with mood lighting and a recording studio. I strongly suspect the principal bats for the other team (typical of woman in power in Nz sadly). Staff: hmm, it was just today that I found out a teacher was arrested for marijuana possession, other members of the staff range from leaky taps to stock standard army cadets. The students smell of cigarettes and hormones. There are more boys and the girls have cold knees because of the tartan belts they wear.
And now let’s fill in this canvas with detail.
I started 2 weeks before the end of term. During that first week there was a boiler explosion where 3 men were seriously injured and sadly one died. The school was hyper due to the media and days off school for the investigation. One thing I equally admired and hated about this school. The staff banded together as an absolute unit- I’ve never seen this in a public school before. There were morning teas shared lunches and morning teas and lunches and morning teas- I have now learnt that in order to support someone- you eat first. They were beautiful. But they completely neglected the students. Due to their worry that the media were going to twist the story- they never discussed any of it with the students. There was no de-brief assemblies of consequence, we (staff) were NOT allowed to mention his name to the students and if they at all showed signs of wear and tear- we had to shove victim support brochures in their face and send them on their way.
That weekend- after the After Ball of the School Ball, a 17yr old hung himself. A classmate did himself in. Again I was not allowed to mention his name to the students and to the teachers eye- School returned to normal by morning tea on Monday. Ugh those students are hurting and we can’t do a damn thing about it. It tears at my Christian heart.
Now- about my crazy supervisor. She is brilliant. British if that’s any key to your imagination. I watch her teach and I actually am furiously writing in my journal everything that comes out of her mouth. She has a sharp wit and an intimidating look that had me putting my hand up in response for hers when she demanded silence. I was scared to teach in front of her because anything I knew I would do- she would know how to do it better, faster and quicker. I have never felt nervous before standing in front of a class before this woman. She soon got bored of the fact that she had nothing left for me to teach because I absorbed her teaching style and completely plagiarised it. So she invented challenges. I had the task of going into a completely random poor yr 8 class who was on a practical lesson and absolutely yell at them (because believe it or not she thought I was shy and had to prove I could yell). So I did- I wrenched open the door with murder in my eye and I bullocked the socks off them about something I barely can remember and spun on my heel and would have slammed the door if it wasn’t on that stupid controlled hinge thing. Another challenge was to have them lined up in 2 lines outside, marching in, and sitting down and on task in record time all without saying a word.
So that was before the holidays. And now it is the beginning of term 3 and now she is gone- left to go to a school where they all have laptops and lapdog students. Pros and Con’s about her departure: Pro- I can now breathe easy with my new supervisor/HOD of music because she’s a gentle older lady called back from retirement. I also know the roped of the department and she is the one asking questions. Con- I have never been pushed so hard by a supervisor and totally on my toes. She was passionate and couldn’t care less about being politically correct or cynical. She had a job to do and she wanted to do it well. Sound sappy to say- but if I am a little bit like her I’ll be a very good teacher.
So right now because the supervisor is rubbing her weary eyes clean of retirement I have been given the opportunity to be welcomed to the real world of teaching. Its day 2 today and the reliever ran away so I taught a full day (first ever thank you very much) and because my supervisor was trying to interpret the new manual for her new computer I had the freedom of teaching my style to students I have built a rapport with and somehow that ended up with me on a desk demonstrating how to play the drums. And I loved it. I absolutely loved it. And that’s a bit of a relief because my poor parents have invested a bit in this degree.
So now I’ve proved my point- I spent 1159 words to tell you about my Prac- that’s not including the words I need to actually prove I was on it to my lecturers.
Normal Prac’s are a warm ball of idealistic word counts and theorist haziness. Everything can be improved and analysed for the greater good of the students.
Here’s the background to my current existence:
Once a yr for the last 3 yrs I’ve been dumped unceremoniously into an unsuspecting school on Prac–for as little as 2 weeks up to (this year) 2 months. On this Prac I write over the legal word limit, I nod off in class while ‘watching’ my supervisor wow me with their brilliance and nod my head when ever they blather to me about why they feel they are the best teacher. I then hide in the photocopy room for lunch or if I really daring- I walk around the playground (why do they call it that- high schoolers don’t “play”) and pretend I’m on duty- all in a daft effort to avoid other staff preying on a victim ear to vent their cynicism. I also invent elaborate tales as to where I’ve come from and what experience I have to justify my presence in a class full of well- lets be obvious here- students.
This is the Foreground:
I’m at this 2000+ (I’m sure I’ll have to know the statics accurately shortly) public school. Its uniform is stock standard moss green, with tartan lower half. Its co-ed and there are over 200 teacher/support staff. The staff room is themed bright red and blue with modern furnishing. The art dept still use blackboard while the music dept is a sharp contrast with mood lighting and a recording studio. I strongly suspect the principal bats for the other team (typical of woman in power in Nz sadly). Staff: hmm, it was just today that I found out a teacher was arrested for marijuana possession, other members of the staff range from leaky taps to stock standard army cadets. The students smell of cigarettes and hormones. There are more boys and the girls have cold knees because of the tartan belts they wear.
And now let’s fill in this canvas with detail.
I started 2 weeks before the end of term. During that first week there was a boiler explosion where 3 men were seriously injured and sadly one died. The school was hyper due to the media and days off school for the investigation. One thing I equally admired and hated about this school. The staff banded together as an absolute unit- I’ve never seen this in a public school before. There were morning teas shared lunches and morning teas and lunches and morning teas- I have now learnt that in order to support someone- you eat first. They were beautiful. But they completely neglected the students. Due to their worry that the media were going to twist the story- they never discussed any of it with the students. There was no de-brief assemblies of consequence, we (staff) were NOT allowed to mention his name to the students and if they at all showed signs of wear and tear- we had to shove victim support brochures in their face and send them on their way.
That weekend- after the After Ball of the School Ball, a 17yr old hung himself. A classmate did himself in. Again I was not allowed to mention his name to the students and to the teachers eye- School returned to normal by morning tea on Monday. Ugh those students are hurting and we can’t do a damn thing about it. It tears at my Christian heart.
Now- about my crazy supervisor. She is brilliant. British if that’s any key to your imagination. I watch her teach and I actually am furiously writing in my journal everything that comes out of her mouth. She has a sharp wit and an intimidating look that had me putting my hand up in response for hers when she demanded silence. I was scared to teach in front of her because anything I knew I would do- she would know how to do it better, faster and quicker. I have never felt nervous before standing in front of a class before this woman. She soon got bored of the fact that she had nothing left for me to teach because I absorbed her teaching style and completely plagiarised it. So she invented challenges. I had the task of going into a completely random poor yr 8 class who was on a practical lesson and absolutely yell at them (because believe it or not she thought I was shy and had to prove I could yell). So I did- I wrenched open the door with murder in my eye and I bullocked the socks off them about something I barely can remember and spun on my heel and would have slammed the door if it wasn’t on that stupid controlled hinge thing. Another challenge was to have them lined up in 2 lines outside, marching in, and sitting down and on task in record time all without saying a word.
So that was before the holidays. And now it is the beginning of term 3 and now she is gone- left to go to a school where they all have laptops and lapdog students. Pros and Con’s about her departure: Pro- I can now breathe easy with my new supervisor/HOD of music because she’s a gentle older lady called back from retirement. I also know the roped of the department and she is the one asking questions. Con- I have never been pushed so hard by a supervisor and totally on my toes. She was passionate and couldn’t care less about being politically correct or cynical. She had a job to do and she wanted to do it well. Sound sappy to say- but if I am a little bit like her I’ll be a very good teacher.
So right now because the supervisor is rubbing her weary eyes clean of retirement I have been given the opportunity to be welcomed to the real world of teaching. Its day 2 today and the reliever ran away so I taught a full day (first ever thank you very much) and because my supervisor was trying to interpret the new manual for her new computer I had the freedom of teaching my style to students I have built a rapport with and somehow that ended up with me on a desk demonstrating how to play the drums. And I loved it. I absolutely loved it. And that’s a bit of a relief because my poor parents have invested a bit in this degree.
So now I’ve proved my point- I spent 1159 words to tell you about my Prac- that’s not including the words I need to actually prove I was on it to my lecturers.
Children
I used to run a few holiday programs. And where the programs were based there was this amazing wall. And the only way to legally take the kids pics against it- was if I incorperated a photoshoot into the progam. sneaky. It seems also semester I come back from college there is an additional family member- so included in this blog are some 2nd cousin shots too.
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