MissLeonie.com

The original plan was to go to Newcastle on the weekend, but Antarctic winds (and I’m not clever enough to make that up) lowered the temperatures significantly. Instead, on Sunday morning, Liam’s dad, Liam and I drove to Norah Head, a lighthouse on the edge of a cliff, overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Newcastle beaches are best visited in sunny weather, but Sunday’s cold, windy weather was perfect for a visit to a weather-beaten location overlooking the ocean.

I’d never seen anything like it before. Huge waves crashing into huge rocks. I’m sure they weren’t all that huge, but for someone who’s only ever seen the Mediterranean, effectively a lake, they were big enough. All plants were clinging on for dear life. Everything had that weathered look - you can only withstand water, salt and wind for so long. At the lighthouse, there were stairs down to the rocks below. We watched the tide come in right in front of us. Both Liam and I went snap crazy. I’ve put a few photos up on Flickr, but there’s such a thing as an upload cap, unfortunately. Note to self: stop uploading the wrong picture and wasting bandwith.

You know those days when, really, there isn’t that much to talk about? Yeah, this is one of those. I spent an awful lot of time snoozing this morning, but don’t tell Liam, because he gets up at five every morning, and if he hears I slept for another five hours, he might grumble.

I read my home university’s updates and news letters earlier. It’s fun to see how everything is the way I left it. Perhaps there are a few more committees started by people who think their appearance would be forever tarnished if they ate a bar of chocolate, not-so-secret-but-oh-so-very-exclusive associations started by people who believe that driving a BMW their dad bought them makes them better than you, and people added to the body of students that don’t fit the above categories in the sense that they DON’T want to make me feel like I should cut myself with rusty razors while crying myself to sleep while OD-ing on cheetos because I’ll never be as amazing as them. I don’t even like cheetos, so that tells you more about the sarcasm level of that sentence. Category-people make me laugh.

I suppose part of the nature of small universities is that a self-proclaimed elite is bound to surface. I’ve never been much of a herd animal myself, because I believe that God, JHWH or Allah (just covering all grounds here) gave me a brain to think with. It’s strangely fascinating to see how a group of intelligent people can be so smugly misguided. Luckily, there are always people who will think for themselves and tell this faux-elite to get stuffed. This, I feel, is always amusing to watch.

I really need to stop thinking about this. The light headache I had when I started this has turned into a fully fletched hammer-bashing-my-skull one and my eyes are scanning the room for Cheetos. Or are they? I’m in Australia, so you’ll NEVER know. You keep the BMW.

I managed to drag Liam down to Officeworks this afternoon. Officeworks, also known as heaven, caries everything an office would want, plus enough pens to make Leonie’s pen collection look inadequate. They have a LOT of pens. I wasn’t there for the pens today, because I have successfully overcome my pen-addiction. Maybe.

I was there because I wanted a transparent overlay for the LCD screen of my new camera. I bought a bag when I bought the camera, because I’m paranoid and when I buy an EXPENSIVE (oh my GOD, expensive) piece of technical genius, I want to protect it like a newborn. This means that for the past few days, I’ve been stuffing a couple of layers of tissue around the camera whenever it went into the bag (a Lamborghini bag - you don’t come across people as stylish as I am every day), which greatly hampered my display of distinction and refinement. The one upside of having limited myself to the back garden so far, camera-wise, is that only a bunch of kookaburras have witnessed The Tissue, and they laugh at people anyway. It’s not personal, it’s business.

I got a pack of clear overlays for PDAs that I cut up to fit my screen. Clearly, most offices don’t stock cameras with huge LCD screens as part of their daily necessities. I’m convinced the world would be a better place if they did. If Bush had cameras to play with instead of rocket missiles… exactly.

I’m still very much getting used to this camera. It takes good photos, even in dummy mode, but I want to really get to know what it can do. For most of the weekend, the camera has been my carrot, urging me to finish my 3500 words research paper (the one I will totally finish after this blog post). My aim is to post one picture a day on my Flickr account, which I’m linking you to again as part of my neverending plan to conquer the world using overlays. If you want to let me know I’m on the right path, leave me a comment on the Flickr page. If you want to tell me I’m not, send me an email. The words “public humiliation” even SOUND unpleasant.

I got myself a Panasonic Lumix DMC-Z7. One of these. My old camera was struggling more and more. It’s frustrating to a) have to anticipate each shot by about 3 seconds in order not to miss it and b) have to accept a total lockdown for no apparent reason every now and then. My old camera took great pictures for its range and lasted for ages, but I’ve found I really enjoy taking pictures and would like to turn it into a bit of a hobby, so I needed better gear.

I’m like a kid with a new toy. As a consequence: enjoy. I realise there’s a bit of a theme. By the time the battery had charged, it was dark. I figured I’dl make use of that fact by taking pictures I wouldn’t be able to take during the day. I present to you: “lamp” and “wall lamp.” Because I’m great at coming up with names.

PS. To that weird girl on the train: I don’t like moths either, now go away.
PPS. Be sure to have a look at my Flickr page - I’ll upload more pictures there in the future.

“Leonie?” she said in a vaguely Eastern European accent. She had a bob just above the shoulders, her hair a shade of blonde that God clearly had intended not to give to mankind for aesthetic reasons, much like nuclear weapons. When we got to her office, she turned around and asked, “How are you feeling today?” I resisted the urge to say, “Great, thanks, just thought I’d pop in for a cuppa,” and instead replied with a still sarcastic “Not so great, that’s why I’m here.” She let me explain what I have explained to you these past few days, listened to my breathing, took my blood pressure and gave me a clear bill of health. Yes, I don’t understand either. And it showed. My facial expression was stuck in between “your what?” and “as much as I’m enjoying this new plan to keep waiting patients occupied, I would like to see the real doctor behind door number three now.” She said she could give me Prednisone or heavier asthma medication, but thought I needed neither, so what did I want? My brain said, “Let me recap: you are offering me steroids or steroids, and although I don’t need steroids, I can take some just so I won’t write a blog post about how badly you suck at being a doctor?” When she asked me again, I candidly informed her that I didn’t have a medical degree and therefore felt uncomfortable prescribing heavy drugs to myself. Not on Thursdays, anyway.

She also came to the astounding conclusion that I am hyperventilating. How anyone can do that for three days without passing out is beyond me, yeah. I wonder if this woman got her GP certificate from a SPAM email she just decided to respond to one day. For once, Jenny Smith sent an email not about enlarging your penis to an obscene size, but about doing the same for your salary.

Finally, she told me about Buteyko’s technique for improving the life quality and physical health of asthma patients. She didn’t so much “tell me about it,” as say, “hold your breath before you inhale or exhale - it’s not about the breathing, it’s about what you do in between.” Alright, captain. I was sceptical, because she was unsure of how to spell the name and couldn’t for the life of her remember his first name. I was sent to an absent GP’s office, told to sit down or get comfortable whichever way I wanted. She turned the light off, and I sat there, fighting my tears of anger, frustration, amazement and sheer dumbfoundedness. And holding my breath, of course.

When she came to get me, I felt worse, if anything. She wrote down two ways of spelling the professor’s name, told me to google it and see her next week. I asked if I could call her if I was fine, because at this stage it was my utmost desire never to see this woman again. That was OK, but she’d much rather have me come in and tell her, “I’ve researched the techniques you pointed out, it’s working, I feel much better and I will be applying this.” At this stage, her head was also spinning 360 degrees while snakes came out of her ears. Or maybe that’s just my hallucination from holding my breath too much.

Of course, I’ve since googled Mr Buteyko. His technique seems to make sense an address a lot of the “side effects” of asthma that my previous doctors and lung specialists haven’t been able to treat accurately. I realised my doctor, although she didn’t know it, was talking about chronic hyperventilating, which means I just breathe too much, but not to the extent that I make myself pass out. (Pity, would have been a good party trick.) It hasn’t got sufficient scientific background at this stage, but I’m willing to give it a go. Just a pity that the one advice Ms Russia 1972 gave me about Buteyko’s technique is EXPLICITLY said not to be part of treatment for those over 16 by the man himself. If anyone reading this has any experience with Buteyko’s techniques, I’d love to hear about it - click the contact link on the right.

I have no idea what to tell this woman next Thursday, other than that I want her to forward Jenny Smith’s email, because I’m planning to buy an expensive camera and could use the quick cash.

I haven’t been to uni this week. At all. I’ll be going to uni tomorrow, because I have a doctor’s appointment. I don’t really know why, to be completely honest with you, because after all, unless she plans to open me up and put toothpicks in my lung-tubes to keep them open, we’re losing the war. I can’t breathe. It’s making me all faint. What’s more, it’s making me very nervous. I don’t get faint. Ever. I’ve never in my life fainted. I’ve only been unconscious once, and only then because someone had cycled over my arm and against my head. So really, in retrospect, it takes quite something to make me pass out.

Be warned, I’m going to be very whiney in this post. I’ve not been whiney all day, or this week; but it’s really becoming problematic here. I am very dependent on walking places, it’s how I get around given the distinct lack of bicycles and… I can’t walk. Not without that feeble feeling that tells me my legs won’t be able to support me much longer. When I try to drink, I have to take a sip, keep it in my mouth, breathe, breathe again, swallow. And while I realise that is a much more graphic description than you were looking for, that’s how it is.

And I can’t explain. I know people don’t understand and I can’t explain that it feels like I’m breathing through a straw, and that by 2pm, my fuel has well and truly run out. It makes me feel so guilty about being lazy, but I know there’s nothing else I can do right now, and I don’t want to worry people, nor do I want to bring out the diagrams to show them what’s going on… I have a 3500 words research paper due on Friday and I don’t know if I’ll make it. I hate that asthma is such a silent disease, and that whenever it gets bad, I imagine everyone looking at me thinking “Fraud alert!!!!”

I hate that this pointless annoyance is keeping me from doing things. I hate that it’s tied me down. I’m an active person: I don’t walk, I run; I don’t laugh, I laugh so hard I’m crying; and most of all, I don’t just sit back and take it, I fight, and I fight really hard. If I can.

Thankfully I got something in my eye just then, so the salty discharge from my eyes was totally due to that. For now, I’m sitting here, reading random websites. I’ve been lying on my bed a while, but that gets tiring (ha, pun!) after a while. I’m listening to an endless supply of Coldplay. And really, when you can listen to Chris Martin raping his voice to be able to sing darling Kylie’s “Can’t Get You Out Of My Head” while half of Glastonbury is singing “nanananana” for the duration of it, life can’t be that bad.

I really hope Australian doctors have a pill that cures asthma unbeknownst to the rest of the world.

Have you ever tried breathing through a straw? Do you know that hazy feeling in your limbs when you don’t get enough air in your lungs? You get a headache, because the oxygen isn’t quite making it all the way north? You get up at 8 after sleeping at least 8 hours, yet you feel so tired that by the time it’s 10, you’re seriously contemplating going back to bed? Do you know that faintly itchy, flimsy feeling in your limbs right before you stretch; but have it all the time? Do you sigh and yawn to your heart’s content?

Take all of the above discriptions and put them in a kettle, drink the tea and feel how I feel!

I haven’t updated much, mostly because life has returned to its normal routine: I go to uni on Mondays, Wednesdays and Thursdays, and I try to do some homework in between, fun stuff on the weekends.

The heatwave that was announced last week has finally arrived here in New South Wales - it started out as far west as Adelaide, but the associated bushfires have now well and truly spead across four states (Tasmania, South Australia, Victoria and New South Wales, for your information).

I’m starting to think that perhaps I’m not really built for this kind of weather. I used to be able to deal just fine - on holidays in Spain - and some days when it’s over 30 here, it doesn’t bother me at all. It’s days like today that I start to doubt my heat resistance however. The forecast said it would get to about 31˚, but the little insert from news.com.au’s weather service says it all… Tomorrow’s forecast is 33˚, same for Sunday. Can you imagine it being 36˚ on 13 April at home? Didn’t think so. Not to worry, temperatures should drop on Sunday, and we might even get a bit of rain. In the mean time, we’ll stay near the air conditioning, drink heaps and relax.

I swam in the ocean today! Sort of, anyway. I’m not sure if Pearl Beach is still Brisbane Water, technically, but as far as I’m concerned, if you can see the ocean, it’s the ocean. I’d put on my bikini, so when we got to the beach, I stripped down to beach gear and Liam put on his newly acquired “board shorts.” Suddenly the wind came rushing up and down the beach in strong gusts, taking toys and clothes along with it. I caught a ball and some kind of cover for something, but drew the line at fetching undergarments.

Anyway - the beach! The ocean! I walked in and it was SO cold! I got soaked through and through pretty quick though - did a bit of swimming with Liam, some silly buggers, riding (tiny) waves - it was good fun, but then it came back: I was so cold again. I got out of the water to stand in the sunlight and hopefully dry a bit (we forgot to bring a towel. I know. I *know*, OK? :P). I was doing cartwheels and handstands - and then suddenly it hit me: I was being sandblasted and it stung like you wouldn’t believe. I was also covered in sand, so I went back into the water to rinse it off. More swimming, more silly buggers and then a runner for the bench where Liam’s parents were. We still got sandblasted on the way there, but I made it. Put my clothes on, got some hot chips and ate them in the car on the way home. Slowly, the water was soaking my clothes. By the time I got home, I was shaking and shivering. A nice hot shower fixed me right up though.

I can’t wait to go back to the beach soon. Preferably in better weather conditions.

Took my sweet time, didn’t I? I was recovering from an awesome weekend. On Saturday, Liam and I went for a walk to Gosford. Never got there, of course, but we did discover a beautiful jetty-path mangrove that lead to a miniature rain forest. Incredibly beautiful. On Sunday, we all got in the car to the Entrance. On the way there, we passed a town called “Long Jetty.” I opened my big mouth and made some remark about the odd names towns have on this side of the planet and was promptly whisked off to THE Long Jetty. Originally built in 1914 (we’re talking wood here people :S), washed down by a flood a few years later, and rebuilt soon after, this is a very long jetty indeed. The water is rather shallow, so we saw lots of tiny fish and rather large jellyfish.

Back in the car, to our destination of the day. The Entrance is a small creek through which all the water of Lake Tuggerah (if I remember correctly) flows into the Pacific (and back). When the tide is coming in or going out, the current is incredibly strong apparently. I didn’t try that, but I got my feet wet in the Pacific instead. They also feed pelicans. Hundreds of them. I have a tonne of pictures that I should show you. Don’t worry, I will.

On Monday, Liam and I got on a train to Sydney. Got off at Town Hall, into the lovely QVB (Queen Victoria Building). It’s a victorian building with roughly a thousand shops, but rather than completely destroying the historic feel of the place, it’s all done in style. Très awesome. In addition to the aforementioned colonial awesomeness, they also have a Lush shop. It doesn’t get much better than that, my friends.

Once Liam managed to drag me away from Lush (or should I start this sentence with “a few hours later…”?), we walked down Park Street, stumbled upon a McDonalds, stuffed ourself, walked further down to Park Street and into Hyde Park. We had a look at the Anzac Memorial, then walked all the way up to the library and the hospital (like the QVB, stylish, old-fashioned looking places), till we got to the Royal Botanic Gardens.

My first thought? “I want one.” The sign at the entrance encourages people to “please get on the grass,” and “hug the trees.” I only gave into the former, but didn’t fail to appreciate the sheer beauty of the place. It’s quiet, yet in the middle of town, and it has flora from all over the world. We couldn’t hang around for too long, because we had more things on our to-do-list, but I’m definitely going back to spend a whole day there before I leave.

Next on our list: the famous Sydney Opera House. It’s… recognisable mostly. It’s also a lot bigger than I ever imagined it to be. Not quite as white, however. The location is amazing: if you walk up from the Botanic Gardens, you get a postcard-view of the Opera House with the Harbour Bridge behind it. Nice one. We walked around the building, took our pictures (I’m such a poser), then went down to Circular Quay to catch a train back to Central.

I was a very tired girl on Tuesday. And Wednesday. I have pictures, but I want to resize some of them and see if I can up the quality a bit (all hail Picasa) - stay tuned and come back to this post occasionally, I’ll be adding pictures. For now, I’ll leave you with this artistically altered picture of Long Jetty. I’ll work out how to upload a slideshow this week and put one up on the Graphics page.