Walking the 600 metres or so to the yoga studio this morning, I accidentally bought a bicycle.

Living in the inner city is much more like the country town where I grew up than the suburbs were. When I leave my building I see at least one person I know and say hi, or recognise some of the others also bustling about their day. Most of what I need is in walking distance. More than what I need.

The bicycle? I already shipped my faithful Giant across the Nullarbor with me when I moved. I happily used it to travel those extra kilometres that my feet would not take me. Now that its parking spot is my entryway, it was pretty heavy to get up and down in the lift. I sort of vaguely thought it would be nice to buy something not 20 years old with a steel frame.

So – this morning, a few doors down, a roller door that is usually closed was open. A charity that works with kids ”at risk of not being awesome” was holding a bicycle workshop and sale. The kids work on donated bicycles then sell them. I bought something light, white and cheap; and donated the blue Giant. It wasn’t until this evening that I realised that my Bottecchia lite cross is actually a really super-duper bicycle that usually only people who LOVE, really LOVE, bicycles buy.

In this street of around a kilometre, I can choose from five or six places for a morning coffee. I could order a gravestone at one end of the street and have a will drawn up across the road. I could have my bridal dress altered in the shop downstairs, and send my kids to the community school. If it didn’t work out, I could go to the family lawyers across the way. I could have my tyres changed next door to the electronics importers before popping in to the barbers. I could browse the real estate agents and buy a house, use the conveyancer a few doors down, then pray in the Christian Centre. If I was really, really into print I could get the printers to make a batch of flyers, but if I preferred digital, I could always go to the mysteriously windowless data storage and cybersecurity centre on the corner. I could even buy a specialist hockey stick and all the hockey gear I could ever use.

So, given all the opportunity, I guess it is not THAT surprising that I ended up accidentally with a bike!

I bought an apartment at the start of May. Settlement was expedited to fit in with other people’s dates, so suddenly I had keys and to get all my boxes and furniture transferred within a week or so.

In two weeks’ time, I have a week’s holiday. I booked it because that was when I would be moving house. I am going to snuggle under the covers for a few days and recover from the whirlwind.

My home and work calendar had written across these six weeks, since I realised in November last year how busy I would be, “Here be Dragons. Intensive Teaching. Do not book anything else”.

Mainly everything in my new place is in wonderful condition and I am so very happy here.

But, for the last three weeks I have been using these sophisticated tools…

… to fix this….

…by pushing it back into the roof.

Then it began fizzing and buzzing yesterday.

So, three or so weeks after moving into a new place, before I had a list of things to mend, I had a handyperson out today to put wood into the ceiling to firmly attach the appliance back in place.

And …I just bought a new phone this evening.

My six year old iPhone SE finally checked out as I was trying to use it to pay for dinner a couple of weekends ago. Or at least the battery started sulking every time it needs to go for more than a couple of hours without charging – plummeting from 35% to 1% within seconds.

The replacement, refurbished, same vintage model in “excellent” condition that I ordered the night my phone broke arrived last week. With a far worse battery than my current phone. So broken that the settings screen advises the battery needs servicing. I gave in and will return it for a refund and stop living like its 2016.

The week before that, I had my front door lock drilled out by a emergency locksmith, and a new lock put in. I had locked myself out (complete with unwell cat in carrier, late to the vet, remedied by Ubering). This is a very secure building, so no breaking in to my apartment was possible. I had it on my to do list to give a spare key to the nice neighbour, but hadn’t worked my way down to that bit yet.

So, after unexpectedly spending several thousands of dollars over a week or so, I have a bathroom ceiling fan, a door lock, a phone and a cat who needs lots of extra hugs and time. Oh, and new glasses. Because, of course, it was really essential that those new glasses I had ordered three weeks beforehand would arrive and need to be paid for in the same week.

I already had a fan, lock, phone, cat and glasses before I spent that much. At least now I know they can’t possibly need more fixing. Right? Right?

One of my cats now needs very small frequent feeds.

I like to sleep in the mornings.

Sometimes, I even leave the house.

Solution? One of these.

I’ve had it for a few days.

You cannot set it up without creating a recording to play before food is dispensed, even if it is just white noise.

It took the cats a couple of days to work out that me calling them meant food.

The first day, after the second time it went off, they stayed in the same room. All day. Watching it and waaaaiting.

Now they are so used to it that the one with the appetite issues just looked up at me at noon, with an ”again?” kind of look on her face.

They are used to me calling now though. I just played the little movie above, and two very confused animals searched the sofa to try to find the trickle of dry food.

It’s Week 10 of the 10 week study period. I had the last Zoom session with one of my classes this evening. I usually invite students to do two things.

Number two is to give feedback on “keep, change, chuck” to help the next lot of students. So, let me know what works and what does not.

We do get anonymised survey feedback from students, that I try to implement as much as possible, but I literally often get comments one right after the other to the effect ”The best thing about the course was the xyz. It was essential and I really appreciated it. This is the best course I have ever taken” then, ”This course is full of xyz. There should be none. It is the worst course I have ever taken”. Asking for feedback from students as a group can help me get a vibe about where others sit on the comments, or to ask questions to make sure I understand what they mean.

CC-BY-SA-4.0 From Jamesbond Raul https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:A-haVistalegre19.JPG#mw-jump-to-license

The first thing I invite students to do in our last class together is to share an ”Aha!” moment. Something where they realised they had always done one thing, but another approach would be easier, or a concept gelled, or they learned something brand new.

My courses are imbued with reflective practice, so this is another way that students get to think about their own progress. I hope that they are reminded of the wonder of learning, but also that they see how far they have come specifically, that their hard work has in some way helped them. I also am very open to this being the catalyst for them to realise they are not really getting as much as they thought out of the degree. I also value what students can learn from each other. Hearing about other students’ aha moments, whether they are very similar or totally different, contextualises their own experience in a new way.

Let’s not kid ourselves though. It’s mainly for me. About 15 or so years ago, when I was running classes in creating avatars at Murdoch Uni, I recognised that one of my strongest motivators professionally is opportunity to help, and be part of, someone else’s ”AHA!” moment. Nothing compares. I know what I would like people to be getting out of their experience, and this lets me know whether I am on track. It also reminds me that what I think is important or meaningful about what I do probably is not the only thing happening.

Back two years ago, I posted a picture of my car’s fuel gauge, with the title ”Not running on empty” .

I was making the point, then remarkable, that I last bought petrol around 80 days previously. I had only really driven the car on a round trip in and out of the city to try to recharge the flat battery.

Same, same, same this year… except the reason for the lack of driving is because I am IN the city. Most essential places – medical, social, exercise, shopping are more easily walked to than driven to.

My analogy about myself from two years ago just doesn’t fly now.

For the first year or so of the pandemic, I did get a chance to refuel, as I pointed out two BlogJunes ago. I was working half-time, not as a university lecturer. I was getting more sleep, more exercise and had far less on my to do list. I was coming to terms with the joys of not trying to maintain a social life. I had permission to just potter about at home, making my garden very wonderful, and not feel terribly isolated nor lonely as I had always feared would happen if I didn’t force myself to get out more.

Now in the third year of the pandemic, I am glad that I was able to refuel then. The opportunity was one of privilege. Now I still consider myself to be living an incredibly privileged life. My tank, however, feels pretty empty. I still have opportunity to sleep well, eat well, exercise well and socialise at an amount that suits me. I try to take advantage of that. But less successfully than at the start of the pandemic.

Like everyone around me, I seem to have far less resilience. It takes far smaller obstacles to throw my plans out. I have less energy or tolerance to pick myself up, dust off, and keep going. I feel like I am absorbing the collective misfortune, frustration and stress of those around me. Hearing of workplaces with 40% of staff off sick, or seeing yet another student ask for an extension due to three kids with COVID, seeing events cancelled, trips postponed, people uneasy about gatherings where we would have all happily mingled and hugged… Then feeling, maybe, guilty. I am not going through it – so shouldn’t I just feel relieved and grateful and make the best of where I am at, instead of just being incredibly tired out by it?

It feels like we are all part of an interconnected system of depleted energy. Like people (and by ”people” I mean me) are saying ”enough” far earlier when something is challenging or needs extra effort or even regular effort.

In previous years I have been excellent at getting out every little bit of effort I have – and then more – to get done what needs doing.

Maybe, just maybe, that was totally whack?

After years and years and years of running too fast and using every single bit in my tank, this is Stage Two of ”Just Slow Down and Things Will Be Better”.

2020, Stage One, gave me chance to pause and feel what it was like to take things slower and reap benefits. Some of it stayed with me. Never, ever, will I feel bad again because I said no to going to a party. It’s OK for parties to just not be my thing. I know how important it is to surround myself with the green and growing.

2021 was a chance to move interstate and change almost everything about my life. I put in heaps of effort to adapt and do what was needed to establish a new life and a new job…doing almost two lives’ worth of stuff as I just kept going and going and going, through nobody’s compulsion but my own. ”No” and ”help” and ”enough” should have featured more in my vocabulary.

2022 is the year I realise that the effort of 2021 (and pre-2020) is not sustainable. Not through sensible and clear insight. Just because my Superpower of Silly and Stupid Efficiency deserted me when my tank ran empty again. No dramatic breakdown or anything like that. I just left things undone that I thought I could do, because I managed to do similar last year, and in many years before. As everyone else around me also reached capacity. And many are falling over.

So, instead of relying on tanks of fuel, that fluctuate upward and downward, I need to find a walking track. Slide on some good walking shoes, or even meandering shoes, and take things far more slowly. Cover less distance, slower, but more sustainably. No parties, but more sunshine and birdsong. No running. Just a good, steady pace.

May 2023 be the year of the appropriate and superfluous sit down. Where I learn more about stillness and rest.

For now, one step at a time.

Con started it. , sharing a pic of what got her through this very, very Wintery start to June.

She also pointed out that you could guess her cultural background from her preference.

My coffee table is full of immigrant experience. So is my pantry.

South Australia is about 95% similar to the south west of Western Australia where I spent my first half-century. Every so often, however, I will look up and see a huge dark shape flitting across the night sky and think “BAAAAAAAAAT HOLY HECK!”, while everyone else around me is calm, collected and going about an unremarkable evening. Or some strange grey bird will hop on the pavement and I will have no idea how it will move next, or what it will sound like.

I have been deliberately embracing and exploring that 5% of unique and discombobulating strangeness when I can.

Which is how I ended up scoffing Fru-Chocs this evening.

And why my pantry has an almost-empty packet of South Australia’s own ”Nonna’s Big Biscuits” . Yes, I bought them mainly for the name and provenance. If I was a tiramisu maker, they probably would have ended up as that.

I could be wrong here, but I don’t recall W.A. having anything so wholesome associated with it? Lots of fabulous boutique beers and wines… but comfort foods??

I must be wrong here, but anyone know any?

VALA 2022 conference is the week after next.

You should go.

So should I.

I’m not.

I attended every one for the last decade, and presented at most. I had to think hard, research, enquire, open myself up to scrutiny, learn to be a designer and work a stage. Bloody good professional development.

My underwear and shoe drawers are richer for the experience… I seem to only buy them when I travel interstate to this kind of event.

I get to see people I know, meet people I didn’t. Force myself into a far more forward and social space than I am comfortable with. (I am still unsure just how to DO a canape event…). Find so very, very many people who think about the same things I spend my work days thinking about, who are motivated to solve the same problems using a similar set of tools and values. Really enjoy introducing two people who I KNOW will be on the same wave length, but don’t know it yet.

There were also satellite events held either side VALA to take advantage of everyone being in town. The Research Support Showcase days. I helped organised several GLAMR unconferences the weekend after some VALAs. Often Australia Preserves, the community around digital preservation in the GLAM sector.

In 2020, as well as those kinds of events, I also spent a day learning about running workshops around helping adults and kids understand how to stay healthy when doing a lot of eSports (A. Adults could chill, try to understand, communicate. Kids could do regular mental health things in the fresh air. Game together. Walk together). I also managed to see complete Harry Potter and Cursed Child production in one night, one of the last times before it shut down for over a year.

I love catching up with people for coffee and brekky and dinner and… for the last four? six? years to go on a whisky crawl and gin crawl with snail and Gareth. Who not only know the beverages. They want to share what they know. Communicate about the subtlety of ingredients and processes and histories. Hearing them talk about it on Twitter was when the FOMO started.

VALA 2020 was the last big event I went to where I remember life feeling normal. Even THEN I had researched P2 masks and had a ten pack with me. Nothing to do with what was around the corner with the pandemic, and everything to do with being an asthmatic flying into one side of the country that was still on fire. I could still buy the masks in Western Australia, although the entire East coast was sold out. I remember one morning thinking it was pretty smoky, so I should probably slip one on…. but NOBODY else was wearing one, so I think it stayed on for about five minutes before social conformity got to me.

I really am totally absolutely flat out at the moment so could not go , but ALSO, I am not sure how I would go with a new VALA right now. Normal is gone. All those wonderful things, replaced with new wonderful things… but I am not sure I would be ready to remake my impressions and memories to fit that just yet.

Maybe I have FOGO? Fear of Getting Out into a newly made world?