To keep the rabbits out...

For those of you who would like the timeline for the history of concrete, you can find it here: http://matse1.mse.uiuc.edu/concrete/hist.html

For those who want something better to do, you can read this "update". Just as a side note, I don't want to be a blog Nazi or anything, but if there seems to be a seriousish topic arising on my blog (rare, I know, but it does happen), please try and stick to the subject at hand. If the subject at hand is not readily visible, go nuts. I did delete a comment in the last post because there was a strong topic following and the comment kind of ruined it. I don't want this to become a habit. Now enough on that.

I am nannying next week and that will be great. Temp job for 3 days at Caboolture. It's going to be tops, I'll keep you informed. Other than that I've been offered a job at Colorado, so I'll probably take them up on that offer and be a working girl again. Then I can get my license and do more nanny stuff - Woot!!

I wrote this story the other night and I kind of like it, so I thought I'd share it. Please bear in mind that I wrote it and I kind of like it so please don't crush my spirits and tell me it sucks if it does. If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all. I have the deleting power :P

Here goes.

Reserved Seating

It has been said the whole world is a stage. I'd rather it were a theatre. I love theatres. Old ones, new ones, big or small, ameture or professional. Theatres are gorgeous.

The world is a theatre. All the girls in the world are seats. All the boys are looking for somewhere to sit. Some boys race from seat to seat as soon as one looks boring. Some men sat, got comfortable, fell in love and died in the arms of the woman he loved.

Some seats seem constantly occupied by different people. Some seats hide, not wanting to be found. Some seats are vandelised. But every seat is different and every boy is looking. It's a busy theatre.

I'm an interesting seat. You have to look twice before you decide if you like what you see or not. I'm a little lumpy in places, I've got some scuff marks from people kicking me as they walk past, but I'm not falling apart. I'm surrounded by other seats, my friends, but amongst them I still somehow manage to stand alone. I'm sure I've been considered by boys before. They never made themselves known, but there may have been one or two, admiring quietly before moving on.

I've tried to make myself look like a very attractive seat to some boys. Not many. Probably 3. None of them ever sat down. I used to wonder why. Now I know why.

There's an usher in the theatre. His name is Jesus. He knows where everyone should sit. He doesn't issue ticket numbers. That takes the fun out of it. He knows every man in the theatre. He know every seat in the theatre. He knows which boy would be best suited to which chair. He worked it all out years ago.

Jesus put a reserved sign on me. It's a little odd when you see it at first. It's not a hand scribbled note. It isn't in the form of someone's left behind belongings. It's an authorotative, theatre owned reserved sign that no one would dare move.

Some boys go looking for a seat that will do them for now. Others are on a search, in persuit of their perfect match.

Jesus wanders the theatre, slowly directing these men tot he right seat. Jesus knows I am a very worthwhile seat. Ther one searching for me is a Prince. He may or may not have spotted me yet. He might be sitting in another seat at the moment, but one day he'll get up, when Jesus tells him to.

One day Jesus will lead this man right to me. Jesus will remove the reserved sign and Jesus, this man and I will know that this is the right match.

That day gets closer with every day I live. I look forward to it.

I'm not single, I'm not taken.

I'm reserved.