October 10, 2005

A Cracker of a day - but what's that smell?

Here’s a story that cracked my dad and I up!

A man who unknowingly built up a
40,000-volt charge of static electricity
in his clothes as he walked left a trail
of scorched carpet and molten plastic
in his wake and forced firefighters to
evacuate a building.
Frank Clewer, who was wearing a
woolen shirt and a synthetic jacket,
ignited the carpet when he walked into
a building in the Victorian country town
of Warrnambool on Thursday.
“It sounded almost like a fir-cracker,”
Mr. Clewer said.
“Within about five minutes the carpet
began to erupt.”
Employees smelt something burning and
phoned the firefighters, who evacuated
the building.
“There were several scorch marks in the
carpet and we could hear a cracking noise
- a bit like a whip – both inside and outside
the building,” said Henry Barton, a fire
brigade official.
Fire fighters cut electricity to the building,
suspecting there had been a power surge.
Mr Clewer, who had left the building
discovered that he had scorched the plastic
on the floor of his car. He returned to seek
the help of the fire fighters.
“We tested his clothes with a static electricity
meter and measured a current 40,000 volts,
which is one step shy of spontaneous
combustion,” Mr Barton said. “I’ve been fire
fighting for over 35 years and I’ve never come
across anything like this.”
The firefighters took Mr Clewers jacket to the
fire station where it continued to give off a
strong electrical current.
David Gosden, a lecturer in electrical engineering
at Sydney university, said that for a static
electricity charge to ignite a carpet, the conditions
had to be perfect.
“Static electricity is a similar mechanism to
lightning, where you have clouds rubbing
together and then a spark generated by very
dry air above them,” he said. It was very
unusual for static electricity to reach 40,000 volts.

Posted by beck at 11:13 AM | Comments (0)

September 27, 2005

I Had A Bad Day!

This episode in my life is dedicated to those who like to laugh at other people’s misfortunes.
Before I start lets get some background info… just so this story will have depth and the level of empathy will be considerably higher in my favor.
Over the last few months I’ve been working rather hard and plugging away at many of the different areas in my life. Having started two new jobs in the last term, finished the production of Love Is, fighting the never ending battle of grot, grim, germs and filth that reside in my house, trying to remove the dam of emotions that is blocking my supposed to be healthy emotional river, falling prey to an unknown disease that has infiltrated my body and blood stream, losing severely the battle of man power v. washing as well as losing Thomas to cancer only on Sunday have all contributed to a general feeling of lethargy, lost, purposeless, monotonal, flattened mood, energy less, exhaustion and yes, just feelings of being somewhat lost.

So all of the above have built up over the last few weeks without me really realizing it. On Friday my friend very wisely said to me that I should find some time for myself this week. So I thought to myself, “Yes. That is a grand idea.” I met with my family to work out when I could get the car to be able to escape. I was hoping for a day so I could go up the central coast and welcome spring, but the car could only be spared for an afternoon so I grabbed the opportunity and ran with it.

This brings us now to this morning and the beginning of our episode.

My adventure started at 12. My plan was to go to Balmoral, then head over to neutral bay for a massage before making my way to Chatswood where I would purchase a pair of pants and top. Indeed I headed down to Balmoral. I arrived safely and parked the boat (van) before going to a local café. Once there I chose to have a pineapple juice to go. I waited a moment, thought to myself, “how lovely it is today. I’m as free as a bird and I get to have a yummy juice.” I looked over the counter and thought again, “how lovely, they’re juicing it fresh.” I get my juice and walk outside. After maneuvering around the chairs and tables with extreme caution as not to trip and thus ruin my juice, I brought the straw to my mouth where I sucked in the yellow, orange, slightly pink looking liquid. I held it there… paused… reluctantly swallowed…(wasn’t going to spit it out in the middle of Mosman.)… Gracefully walked past the bin… pulled a rotten face to match the unripe juice… and dropped the cup silently into the bin. One swift, purposeful movement. It took no more the 8 steps to reach the next café where, still frustrated about wasting $4 on something that belongs in the trash, I bought a safe cappuccino.

I found a spot along the beach to sit and stare thoughtfully out to the ocean. It was beautiful and I was happy to be there, but the only meaningful thought running through my mind was how I meant to go back to the car because it’s cold and windy, and while that’s lovely if you have a parker or even a sweatshirt… I had neither. With half an hour to go before I was due at “Destiny massage,” I decided to stick out the cold and finish my coffee. Again, I brought the cup to my mouth, this time with the intent of sucking in the froth. Not only did the light sweet milk fill my mouth but so did the scolding coffee.

What I struggle to work out is that it always seems to take a couple of seconds for your brain to realize the severity of the high temperature, another second to toss up the spit out v. swallow strategy, then the next two or three days living with the constant reminder of your pledge to never touch a drink that hasn’t either come from the tap or the fridge.

At the right time I left Balmoral and head up to Neutral Bay. After struggling for 10mins to find a park in the immediate vicinity I opted for paid parking a block away. I parked, locked and left the car. I went to the parking meter, paid for my number 9 car park. Not only did I pay for my hour, I also added an extra 12 mins on just incase I ran a little late or the parking inspector (who has a thing for booking cars along that street) comes just after the meter runs out. Satisfied I had met all the law requirements I confidently left my boat and went in to get my, massage. It was amazing. I felt gooey everywhere. It cost me $75, which is a little expensive but expected for the area.

An hour later I walked out very soft, relaxed, a little oily and smelling great! As I rounded the corner to where I had parked, I saw I white piece of paper under my wind-screen-wipers. As I got closer I thought it was just a flier because there was absolutely no way I got a ticket. It was just impossible because I had paid for the extra 12 minutes. I reached out and pulled the PARKING TICKET!!! from the windshield. I read it. Re-read it. Thought. Read it again. Possibly scratch my head as that it was people seem to do when they think. Walked over to the meter and pressed nine. Sure enough it still had 6:22 left till it expired. As I walked back to the car I looked at the ground. On top of my nine there was a big yellow line. Next to it there was something written. I walk over and get down on the ground… SIX, IT’S A SIX! I ran to the number nine. It said nine with a line as well. The car in nine was sitting there looking rather smug. I wanted to break it but I decided that while a can afford the $75 fine, there would be no way I would ever be able to afford a massage again if I broke the number nine car. Not only that but if I did choose to break and run then I would wreck all the effects of my massage. I calmly got into my car and drove away. So not only did I get fined, I also couldn’t go shopping. That $75 was for my day. It was for me. I had set it aside so I could spoil myself, so that I could indulge. But not anymore.

My day. The day I had given me, really flopped. So now I sit here, not too fussed, just disappointed that I couldn’t do a day or even just 3 hours by myself.

Funnily enough… as I was stopped by the spit bridge I heard myself singing, “how great is our god!… the world will see how great is our God!”

And as I walked into my house I was reminded of my funny friend James who told me last night, “whenever trouble comes your way, let it be an opportunity for joy.”

So here I am, celebrating with you… that I had a bad day!

Posted by beck at 04:28 PM | Comments (2)

September 19, 2005

Ping?

What's a ping?
mine has gambing all over it and texas hold'em rules...
don't make sense!

Posted by beck at 02:44 PM | Comments (0)

Sunday

Yesturday was a good day. I woke at 10 till I was meant to be at church, then I jumped out of bed after coming to the resolution that I really should get out and fulfill my responsibilities because if I don’t then the world will end and the grade 2-3 kids church class will go with out finding out what happened to David after he found out from Jonathon that Saul was still on the war path and walked to chop of his head. I couldn’t bear to leave them in the lurch so to speak. I sang b/v’s with Kate and thought it was a waste of time as my ears and nose and other breathing points were all blocked and I couldn’t pitch a note to save a drunken sailor.
I enjoyed doing drama with the Ernie senior drama team. It was pumpkin hour meets 3:30. I think they did a great job! Only one or two more to go. I loved the 6:30 service. God was on top of it all. I felt more like a spectator then a participant but that’s ok. I’m getting used to it. God’s guiding me to see things from a new perspective. It’s a challenge I love.

Well I’d better fly to after school care. We’re hiring if anyone’s interested.

Posted by beck at 02:43 PM | Comments (0)

September 17, 2005

Growing up

I met with my mentor today. She is so insightful and it is amazing the way God has brought us together. She went through many of the things that I’m going through at the moment when she was my age. I love the fact that the older generation claim to and do understand what it’s like to be 18. I forget that they’ve been there.
I used to hate it how people would say to me, “I know, I completely understand. I’ve been there.” Or even worse, “you’ll grow out of it.” It’s like, “well what if I don’t want to grown out of it? What if I enjoy doing what I’m doing and being who I am?”
It’s like when I was in primary school and now I’m teaching these primary schoolers. They come and talk to me about their issues in their 8 year old lives that seem extremely trivial but I know that when I was 8 these things were more important then anything else in the world. In fact I could think of what could have been more important.
So now when my mentor tells me she understands I believe her because I know she’s had these trials and experiences. More then that she’s come through them even more empowered and gracious then she was when she walked into it.
I find that really encouraging. I know I’ll screw up something massive and I know that’s inevitable but I also know it’s ok and that this life (as Stephen kindly reminded me yesterday) is only temporary. We have much greater things to look forward to and much more exciting times ahead. (I feel like I should be writing those inspirational notes that go in women’s mental health like journals where they can turn a new page and read that they are in fact normal and that being abnormal is a completely normal thing.)

I’ve just realized that I purposefully chose to use short words when I write purely because I don’t know how to spell the longer ones. Now that’s what I call sad!

Posted by beck at 01:25 PM | Comments (0)

September 16, 2005

Creative juices

It’s 1030 and ive had a horrible morning. I’ll think more about it later. It’s too heavy laden with much emotional trauma to try and process now.

I’m really struggling to be creative today, and Wednesday for that matter. I think I’ve been squeezed of all creative juices and they’re sitting in a jug in the fridge marked “Becks creative juices. Use in excess as you please.” What’s also frustrating is that they disappear or give the illusion of being empty when I go searching for a top up.

Posted by beck at 10:35 AM | Comments (4)