I am not very good at clearing my mind. I am constantly analysing everything and my life quality. Then sometimes I will take stock and say "hey, not doing too badly". Mostly though I am hypercritical of myself, so much so that I believe I have a condition. For want of a better description, I call it "self absorbed".

Ever since I was given writing tools and an enquiring mind I have tried to be the best I can be. Unfortunately the standards set are out of reach, especially if there is not a lot of praise. It is a difficult subject, how much praise is enough, or could we be over encouraged and become total bores with our accomplishments. Well, no problem there. Without any real belief in myself, I am very self critical. The best times for me is when I am so busy I forget to chastise myself about being imperfect.

What I do know is that if I was ever awarded the freedom to pursue my own self fulfillment, I would at my advanced age jump at a chance to study further. My mother decided that I did not have the temperment to study a degree at university, and there was no real incentive at home to become an academic. I had a good university pass, and in fact I really wanted to attend university and achieve great heights. I even dreamed of meeting my match there and living my life surrounded by intellectual pursuits, amazing books and delving into history, geology and anthropology. Instead I took my first job at age 17. I worked my way through until reaching supervisor, because of my self driven quest to succeed. Now over 50, I am still dreaming of studying further. My daughter is at university and I wish I could sneak into the environmental studies and immerse myself in some urban environmental lectures. My mathematics was never strong, even though I work with figures all the time. I wonder where I would be now if all those years ago my parents did oblige my secret wish to attend university. Maybe terribly lonely, not an option I would have enjoyed.

That said, I took courses to run cub scouts, volunteered wherever I could for community service and kept a home and family, with a full time job. No degrees, and no accolades. Just some letters behind my name for bookkeeping courses achieved in my 40's .And that nagging self critcism, only quiet when I sleep. And if it is not that, it is worry that I should be doing something. No chance to really relax, take in the day that is the present, just a constant need to "be" something more.

My colleague at work has related a disturbing condition that her infant child is suddenly experiencing, a half awake/ semi comatose attack of night terrors. She does not seem to be aware of her blood curdling screams that wake up the household, and she is almost in an epileptic state, with no recollection of the episodes in the morning. She was fine until she recently underwent surgery for blocked ears, and apparently woke up from the anaesthetic in a frightful state. It is as if her subconcious mind was fighting the sedation, and now this is triggered when she falls asleep. The subconcious mind is a very powerful tool, and how many messages are being fed subliminally and thus chastising our waking moments. Fascinating subject, no doubt somebody has already well documented this condition, through years of dedicated studies and sacrifice. What an awesome opportunity to expand one's intellectual capacity and provide answers to otherwise unesplained mysteries, saving lives in the process. Of course, it does help to be gifted too. My efforts would be mostly labour intense...

When my daughter recently consulted a psychiatrist she was fully examined for all of the possible mental disorders (well, if they are, lol) such as bipolar, manic depression and obsessive compulsive disorder. She has been experiencing terrible dreams which linger when she wakes up. They are directly linked to post traumatic stress disorder and her home sickness. She has been given some tablets which appear to have stopped the dreams. We had a laugh because she was asked if she had an obession with numbers. We both agreed that I have that problem. My OCD is so bad I obssess about doing things, but I never actually do them.

So, yes, the obssessive and subconscious part of me is always chastising me for of not living my other dream. One day I may be able to cure myself. I wonder if a course in short story writing may help. In the meantime, you are stuck with me here. When is enough ever enough.... maybe never. Only we will ever know.

The news in brief this week has filled me with some really depressive thoughts. A father who locked his daughter away and raped her in front of the children she bore for him, is now going to be locked away in a safe prison, with all the creature comforts he denied his own flesh and blood. Good sanitation, clear fresh air and hot water. I cannot think for the life of me why he deserves these things. Of course he is now going to receive therapy in an attempt to heal his sick mind. Umm, apparently his sick mind was not cured in 1967 when he was jailed for 9 months (the time it takes a woman to carry her child). He was released into the custody of his wife. Then years later his daughter disappears and no-one puts two and two together. I do believe that he was not the only sick person. Why was he not monitored, or incarcerated longer for the rape.

When the system fails it ends up with a bigger problem on its hands. But we must not forget that in some countries young girls are still forced to marry the man their father chooses for them. These girls are still children and the husbands chosen are as old as their fathers. They are severely punished and even murdered if they object. How different is this sick man to any of the fathers who allow their daughters to meet a fate worse than death. Why do the mothers allow their children to hurt so much. I would die first than allow my daughter to endure such pain at the hands of such a father. I am one to talk, a teacher placed in a position of trust over my child acted similarly to the sick men I describe. He took my innocent child, poisoned her mind against her parents, systematically wore down her ability to resist him and then raped her on numerous occasions, using her guilt as a weapon against his deceit. In a perfectly normal neighbourhood at the best possible school on offer. Nobody suspected anything, because monsters don't exist. Yes they do!!! Then they plead insanity when discovered.

What is so terribly wrong with all of the above is that in each case an adult person exposed to all the norms of society could believe what they were doing was right and that nobody should judge them. They blame a bad childhood, or their gender and tradition for perpetrating such evil deeds against the female population, even their own children or the children they were placed in a position of trust over. They rely on the blind eyes of those who trusted them to become evil personified. When even breaking a law they cry and say they are ill. Then when given a second chance they become more deceitful and their methods are inhumane.

I am all for giving someone a second chance, but only when the deed is not life theatening and will alter the mind of the victim forever. Why should this man live in sanitary bright and warm conditions when he turned his daughter's life into a living hell.

Elisabeth Fritzl, my heart goes out to you, and I apologise that people in a position of trust over you could not see the evil in front of them. He is gone now, and this is only the beginning of his road to eternal damnation. It will never happen again, if we all stand together and object strongly enough. May God bless you and your dear family.

Love from Eve

I consider myself to be a bit of a introvert. In fact that is the description for a person who witholds opinions and doesn't mix well. Another less complimentary description is a fringe person. The question is, am I the only one out of step? For the past few weeks I have been made to step out of my insular life, ie which is a daily commute to work and back, and into all kinds of situations which require quick witted reactions, self reliance and independence from my cocoon. I flew across the countryside and stayed in a rented apartment with my stressed out daughter, and learnt about life in the student hostels first hand from the new intake. In fact I think that would have rounded my education off quite nicely had I been exposed to such conditions years ago. There is so much to still learn, and time is the one thing we really don't get enough of.

Because we are heading towards the end of the summer and the weather is now at its peak, every weekend is packed with the annual sporting events and fund raisers. I mingled with hundreds of students leaving the university on a very congested Friday afternoon. The entire place is a city on its own. For logistical reasons my daughter and I walked everywhere, with no offers of transport and none needed. It was an experience to carry our luggage and our groceries across busy streets without traffic signals working. We lumbered up three flights of stairs to a top floor loft apartment. We felt secure with a gate guard and emergency panic button. The joke was that a side gate to the main road was unlocked. I managed to read a book from cover to cover during the day whilst she attended her lectures. We enjoyed our quiet times together. The strange thing was that in the time that I was visiting the weather remained clear and the skies were cloudless. My daughter had experienced so many thunder storms and flooding rains in the weeks before. The night I arrived home she texted to say the storms had returned. Amazing, we were spared a walk in the rain. Everything worked out well even though it started with uncertainty.

Last weekend we had record breaking crowds at the annual seafood festival, and this weekend I stood on the roadside and cheered on over 40000 cyclists traversing the peninsula who took over the roads for the day. We all waved and greeted one another. The irony is that the cyclists have been battling for weeks to practise for this event and have become public enemy number one on the roads, until today. There is so much interaction at these events and I often wonder why we cannot have this cameraderie all the time.

Our election campaigns are in full swing and rallies are the main topic of the evening news. The various opposition parties are gayly attired in bright emblems and we are promised new beginnings. Every weekend from now on will be jam packed with the frantic preparations for the Easter holidays and the ensuing voting day.

If I take stock of all this and the household that runs like a railway station, upon reflection there is no need to worry about being a recluse. There is no time to. All I have to do is mingle. The rest take care of themselves.