Heart full of music

I was going to write a very different post here, but I'm in two minds as to whether I should or not, mainly because there's parts of my life I used to talk about that I now don't feel that I can. It's all very well to expose yourself to the jackals, but others? I don't think I have that right.

It's kind of sad. This blog was my outlet. Now it feels too delicate. Too easy to say something I "shouldn't". Do I say what's on my mind? Do I only write about things other people are writing about, which seems to be where I'm headed? I rail against 'letting them win" by not saying things I want to say, but in the end, does it matter? Does not saying something hurt as much as things I could say would hurt others? 

I know what my life is. I know where my heart is. That, for now, is enough. My home is one of flowers and laughter and love. My heart is full of music. And the best thing is that I'm sharing it with someone who sneaks out in the morning to take photos so he won't wake me by pottering around, and notices my initials in the water. He comes back with a song in his heart that he plays while he shows me the photos.

I'm sharing my life with someone who drives me out beyond the lights and has a soundtrack to the stars we point at and the constellations we track with the nifty Google Sky. Someone who couldn't have taken better care of me while I've been ill (Don't ask. It's too complicated to explain), someone who kept the house running - I did no housework or cooking for the best part of three months - and did it all again with only a weeks break when I borked my shoulder pushing myself too far too fast, and helped me see that asking for help is far less stupid and insulting to the people I love than stubbornly acting like they wouldn't help me in a heartbeat and getting stuck with your shirt above your head because you cannot move your arm. 

Basically, what I'm saying is I don't know where this blog is going. Or if I'll keep it going. I won't delete it, but I certainly can't write the way I want to anymore, and I don't know what that means for this. Some of why I "can't" write is that I'm not in the same place. I'm not the same person. I guess the voice we have through our lives changes, and the outlet that's best for that voice changes with it. 

Time will tell, I suppose.

A big shovel load of credit

Usually, I am not Herald Sun columnist Susie O'Briens biggest fan. Usually, I find the pieces she writes factless and vacuous.

Today, she has totally blown me away with this piece on Refugees and the hyperbole that surrounds the issue. 

I'm not going to say much about it, because she's already said everything I would say myself. But I will quote the ending, as it sums up my position on Australia's refugee intake nicely;

"People, let's get some perspective. These facts have been missing, and all we're getting is tough, empty talk by men wanting to win elections.


We should not, and must not, apologise for treating the world's most disadvantaged people with compassion. And don't forget that it is never illegal for a person to enter our country - via land or sea - in search of freedom from persecution. In fact, it's our responsibility as a stable, wealthy land.

If we are going to have a debate, let's debate facts, not the fear-based fantasy."

She backs up that position by doing her research into the actual numbers and the issues behind them. I could not be more impressed.