happy chatter

Eight whole days without blogging and I can't think of a single thing to say.

That's not entirely true, since I have a constant feed of potential posts running through the background of my thoughts. But now that I'm here, fingers on keyboard, ready to type... the feed has malfunctioned. And I'm stumped.

Or maybe my brain is in overload because the other constant feed running through the background of my thoughts is the pulp mill and whether it will be approved or not.

In fact, this pulp mill feed doesn't only run through the background of my personal thoughts - it has now invaded the consciousness of the whole of Tasmanian society and even other parts of Australia. There's a constant barrage of political slanging matches, scientific proclamations, and public outcry daily published in both print and televised media. We are all on tenterhooks, hanging on the outcome of the debate, and no matter which way the decision goes there will be many unhappy people in this small corner of the world. As it stands, both levels of the Tasmanian State Government have approved the mill. Gunns was all set to start building last Saturday... until the Federal Environment Minister decided that he had better look into things a bit more closely. After 25,000 people responded to his call for public submissions he felt careful thought was of the essence and he won't hand down his decision for six weeks, by which time the Federal election will have been called, so any decision he makes will have to be in consultation with the Labour Party... the whole thing could drag on for months. Meanwhile Gunns, who claimed they could not afford to continue with the the mill if it was not approved by July or August, have decided that, in fact, they can continue with their application despite the loss of more than a million dollars a day, or some such figure, in unfulfilled contracts. It's a dirty pulp mill and it's become an increasingly dirty debate. No matter what happens to the Tassie environment, the psyche of Tasmania is forever scarred by Gunns and their greedy proposal.

(What was that about fingers poised with nothing to say?)

My brain may also be malfunctioning due to the knock on effect of nursing two demented patients last night and this morning, both with husbands named 'Jack'. They were confused before hearing each other talk about their husband! And with perfect hearing in both pairs of ears, random, disconnected responses flowed around me all day. Crazy. My brain is befuddled. But it was kind of fun.

Actually my mind is completely swamped with a jumble of thoughts that won't go where I want them, and certainly won't be moulded into something manageable. Pulp mills, ugly self pity, counselling essays, familial niggles... on and on and on.

This I know for sure. God is good and Frank is lovely.

And on that beautiful note I'm going to go and escape my thoughts in sleep.

Labels: blogging, nursing, pulp mill