Working for the Man

"Hey now you better listen to me everyone of you
We got a lotta lotta lotta lotta work to do
Forget about your woman and that water can
Today we're working for the man."

Working for the Man, Roy Orbison.

I went to the accountant today and I think I am in love. There is something about a slim, plain-looking young woman in a business suit that is incredibly attractive. Actually, it wasn't that this girl was particularly good-looking (she was pretty, but she wasn't "hot"), but her robot like professionalism and her razor-sharp social intelligence were, to be honest, a little erotic. Moreover, being the big, tough man that I am, I naturally found having the pittance I live on picked apart by a much younger and very female person humbling.

Every conversation seemed to go like this:

Accountant -Hi Ross, nice to meet you. My name is X. How has you day been?

Me - Yes, ummm, working on lesson thingys. Very busy. Ummm...Yes. My name is Ross.

Or this,

Accountant - So Ross, are there any other work-related expenses that we can deduct?

Me - Your hair is pretty.

Hands up who thinks I should spend my tax return on a few weeks of therapy?

In other news, my second teaching placement begins on Monday and for the next five weeks of my life my ass belongs to the Victorian State Government. This is post is let you all (Mark and whoever else bothers to check in these days) know that I might drop off the radar until late September. Don't worry, I will continue to lurk in the background and drop the odd comment. I may even post something before my placement ends but it isn't a gurantee.

Until then, lots of love and remember to keep it real.

Bouncing Off the Walls

"...for some time past he had been in an over-strained, irritable condition, verging on hypochondria. He had become so completely absorbed in himself and isolated from his fellows that he dreaded meeting not only his landlady but anyone at all. He was crushed by poverty, but the anxieties of his position had of late ceased to weigh on him. He had given up attending to matters of practical importance; he had lost all desire to do so..."

Crime and Punishment, Fyodor Dostoevsky.

If there is any character from literature that I resemble it is Rashkolnikov from Crime & Punishment. Although I don't spend my days murdering miserly spinsters, I can see my less admirable qualities and behaviours reflected in this character. Why is this young man so miserable? Being cooped up in a tiny little apartment in a strange city that is light years from everything that is familiar and comforting probably doesn't help. However, there is more to Rashkolnikov than his situation. The paranoia, the delusions, the self-absorption are not just a product of the physical isolation he has constructed, they are product of a spiritual/existential isolation he has chosen. When you give yourself too much time to reflect on these things your world necessarily becomes very narrow and very bleak.

I miss home a little bit more than I realise. There is an emptiness in my life that will only be filled when I see people who know and love me. In the meantime I just have to keep on keeping on. Everybody hurts sometime, so I am told. There is no good reason to let it shame you; that only makes it worse.

Ross & Mark's Awesome Adventure

More photos from the road:

Mount William on the first day. Misty...

Mount William on the second day.

Me. Doing things.

Mark at our Halls Gap accomodation. I am about to throw a rock at his head because he made me watch Ocean's 11 the night before.

Mark's "burger" from a Port Fairy bakery.

Mark- 1, Burger - 0.

A firehose in a rainforest?!?!

The Otways.

The Great Ocean Road.

Boring Books

It is not very often that I find Greg Sheridan's column in The Australian edifying, but I felt more than a little self-satisfied when I read this incidental jibe within his piece about the Salman Rushdie-Knighthood controversy:

"Either Rushdie has the right to pen his boring books even when they are offensive, or he does not".

Wow, the Emperor really does have no clothes.

To be fair, I have not actually read The Satanic Verses. I have, however, endured 50-odd pages of the soporific sludge that is Midnight's Children. It started me thinking about all the other tedious tripe I have encountered in my adult life.

My top five boring books of all time are:

1. Salman Rushdie's Midnight's Children.


2. V.S. Naipaul's A House for Mr Biswas.


3. George Eliot's The Mill on the Floss.


4. Tim Winton's Dirt Music.


5. Charlotte Bronte's Jane Eyre.

Like Midnight's Children, all of these books were required reading for university units. I am probably going to cop flak from some feminist with hairy armpits for including Charlotte Bronte on the list and perhaps I do have some cultural prejudices. On the other hand, I am too old to be ashamed of being male, middle-class and white.

I tag all the people who read this blog (and anyone who leaves a comment) to make their own list. You know who you are.

Nobody Expects the Spanish Inquisition

I went to an auction the other day and I swear that the auctioner was the spitting image of this guy:

Who was in this sketch:


I love the Spanish Inquistion sketch. Most Monty Python is boring, but this sketch never fails to make me laugh.

RE: Goals

Looking at my last post in the cold light of morning (and it is very cold in my neck of the woods, the mercury pushing 1 degree Celsius kind of cold) I can see how conservative (or boring) I am.

Consequently, here are a five more "radical" goals:

1. Get a role in a play.
2. Give 5% of my weekly income to charity.
3. Climb a mountain.
4. Buy a leather jacket.
5. Volunteer for an overseas aid mission.

See, I'm cool too aren't I?

James, this list took me a month to do because I've been thinking about it so much.

My five "life goals" in no specific order:

1. To know Jesus.
2. To learn how to love others and have good relationships.
3. To be a good teacher.
4. To have a family, kids, house, etcetera, etcetera.
5. To be a good writer.

Hopefully it won't take me another month to think of what I am going to blog next.

Mushrooms

After all the cold weather we've been having down here I spent part of yesterday shopping for a scarf. I hate shopping for clothes. This, however, was a no-brainer because I needed something to keep my neck warm at night. Unfortunately, all those fears about coughs and runny noses must have been a self-fulfilling prophecy because today I had a head cold and had to wear my scarf to uni.

Yes, I am a man and I wore a fashion accessory in public. It's official: I am a pretentious wanker.

In other news, I survived my teaching placment. Hurrah! So many stories to tell you but they're all far too long and far too boring. The long and short of it is this: I made a lot of mistakes but pushed through and came out on the other side in one piece. I learnt that I can actually communicate ideas to people and help them learn. However, I need to be more assertive. I am a persistent person but not an assertive one.

Finally, I need to find a few new blogs to stalk after two of my favourite bloggers dropped of the radar this week. Lots of love for T and Nick.

Head Cold + Goodbyes = Too Much. I need a lie down.

Rumours of my demise have been greatly exaggerated.

Regular transmission will resume early next week when my teaching placement ends.

Things Fall Apart

Over the last four or five days the following have happened:

1. My computer speakers packed it in.
2. Two steps on the wooden staircase that leads to my flat collapsed.
3. The railing on said staircase fell off.
4. The adjustable strap on my favourite hat broke.
5. The drawstring in my favourite pair of tracksuit pants snapped.
6. And yesterday I broke my house key in the lock.

Yes, it has been a strange few days. Between chores, lesson plans, and my job I have been feeling the heat a little. Moreover, I have had to have some work done to my car. Car problems, and the mere thought that I might not have my own transport, is a big source of grief for me. This comfortable routine that I have constructed over the past few months would come crashing down around my ears. It gets worse. A couple of nights ago, during one of the colder evenings we have had here in Mexico, I had a dream. I was babysitting my friend's daughter, she caught cold and she died. Nightmares are unusual for me. Although I had the presence of mind to know I was dreaming it still left a sick feeling in my stomach.

Anyway, I know I am letting 'stuff' worry me and that I should make a decision to be peaceful and optimistic because, fuck, I am only going to get older if I wait for the world to change. People believe that their stuff - their career, their car, their house, their business, their toys - is what will make them secure, happy and peaceful. I used to believe that as well and I still depend on my things. However, the truth is that everything you own is something you have to take care of. Everything that you own is something you have to maintain and something that will, eventually, stop working.

I must stop this post if only because it is well past my bedtime. But, if you can bear it, here is a quote from The Gospel of Matthew. I am glad that as a Christian I have these words to fall back on:

“Therefore I say to you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink; nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food and the body more than clothing?

Look at the birds of the air, for they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?

...do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’

For after all these things the Gentiles seek. For your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things.

But seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things shall be added to you.

Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble."

Matthew (7:25-26, 31-34)

...and stuff.

I had a couple of ideas for my blog this afternoon but everything seemed like contrived BS when I wrote it down. I like to plan ahead with my blog but, I don't know, today it feels silly having to make up an excuse to write. So, in lieu of something edifying and genuine, here is a conversation you and I might have if we met face to face.

Hey. How's it going.

Yeah, I'm alright. Busy with lesson plans and stuff.

I won't presume to speak for you; feel free to fill in the gap. I have been busy writing lesson plans. I have also been reading a John Marsden book and there was a particular passage that caught my eye. This novel is about two teenage girls who have become pen pals.

"And these letters, it's funny, they're different. It's a different type of friendship. In a way I hope we never meet - it might spoil it. Somehow these letters are like a diary, and I write things in them that are different to the way I talk to people I see every day. So if we meet, or when we meet, it's like we'll have to start one type of friendship when we've already got another one. It's like we'd be starting from scratch when we'd already been going a hundred years. I don't know how it'd work."

(Please don't sue me Mr Marsden)

Well, there is neither rhyme nor reason for this post. I just wanted to let you know that even though I am working hard I am still thinking about you, out there in blogworld, and loitering in and around your webspace when I get the time. I was worried that you might have forgotten about me.

Is it Friday yet? How do normal people do this nine to five stuff?

Ok, I am being sarcastic because all this work is making realise how lazy I can be. I did just put in a twelve-hour day so it is probably Ok to be a little tired.

My mantra at the moment is, "It's going to be ok, It's going to be ok" because if I get my act together maybe, just maybe, I can score a job at what is turning out to be an awesome school with a fantastic supervisor. I am learning so much and, for the first time in my life, I have actually enjoyed being at 'work'. Maybe that stuff about finding a purpose in life isn't a load of BS.

I will blog more later. In the meantime, sleep beckons.

Serpents and Doves

Jesus's advice to his disciples:

"Behold, I send you forth as sheep in the midst of wolves: be ye therefore wise as serpents, and harmless as doves.

But beware of men: for they will deliver you up to the councils, and they will scourge you in their synagogues,

And ye shall be brought before govenors and kings for my sake, for a testimony against them and the Gentiles.

But when they deliver you up, take no thought how or what ye shall speak: for it shall be given you in the same hour what ye shall speak."

Matthew (10:16-19)

I have my first teaching prac tomorrow. Wise as a serpent, harmless as a dove: I think those a two great metaphors for a high school teacher. I am not a control freak but neither am I a doormat. And who cares if I don't know everything? I'll know what I need to say when I need to say it. Bring it on.

Can We Still Be Friends?

Photos from my Perth sojourn.

Limo and champagne, this wedding was first-class all the way.

Well, first-class most of the way. We arrived a little early so we decided to watch some TV.

Then it was time to suit up.

Shirts, waistcoats and trench coats, all black, in 35 degree heat. I survived but I think some of the other guests were suffering from heatstroke at the reception.

Enough bogan hijinks. Here is a photo of Perth by The Swan that I took at the reception. The blues are the Bank West building.

A photo of my God-Daughter. What a cutie! Takes after her God-Father of course.

I tried to get her to smile but I was dealing with a mind far superior to my own.

My trip back to Perth was kinda like having a fling with an ex-girlfriend and then reliving the trauma of the break-up because the reasons you couldn’t be together in the first place haven’t changed. Maybe, one day, Perth and I will hook up again – perhaps even marriage will beckon. For the time being we will just have to be friends. It’s the best thing for both of us.

Back in the USSR

In lieu of a coherent narrative here are some dot points that sum up my first twenty-four hours back in Perth.

Things that Melbourne has that my corner of Perth does not:

• People with dark skin.
• Decent public transport.
• Late-nite shopping.
• A decent night life. Unless the pool tables in the public bar down the street count.

Things I had forgotten about:

• The way my parents bicker.
• What it is like to sleep on a queen-sized mattress.
• What the ocean (or at least dead seaweed) smells like.
• Warm autumn nights.

Things I miss already:

• My computer.
• My car.
• The Age.
• My independence.

Things I will take back with me:

• My Medicare card, if I can find it.
• Novels I read while I was in high school.
• A short story I wrote when I was an undergrad.
• A hangover. If I am not careful.

In age where everyone is seeking a sea-change or a tree-change I couldn’t be happier to be as far away from my backwater beachtown as possible. Don’t get me wrong, I am not saying that there is something inherently iniquitous about small towns. However, a change in my external circumstances has given me a chance to break a lot of my bad habits and forge good ones. And, as well, living somewhere that is urban, multi-cultural and otherwise unfamiliar is teaching me things about life that I could never learn here in Summer Bay.

All and all, the Melbourne move has been a success. I will probably stay there for another eighteen months at least. If I knew someone who was moving in the opposite direction I wouldn't advise against it but there a couple of myths you have to get over first.

MYTH: Beach towns are full of colourful characters like ‘Diver David’ and romantic accidents happen all the time.

REALITY: Nobody cares that you are a washed up barrister from Sydney looking for a second chance. Everyone wants to get home to watch Grey’s Anatomy and CSI.

MYTH: Everyone is as buffed and tanned as the characters on Home and Away.

REALITY: The beaches are filled with leathery retirees. All the young people are working in pubs and coffee shops so they can finish their degrees and move to the city.

MYTH: The ocean is an image of beauty and tranquillity.

REALITY: The ocean is an image of beauty and tranquillity but smells like fat man who has eaten a bad vindaloo.

Cue laugh track.

Sorry about that. Please keep reading my blog.

This is not an urban myth, I swear.

Once upon a time there was a young man who liked to sleep with a revolver on his bedside table. What else does one need within arms length during the wee hours of the morning besides a loaded firearm? Nothing. Well nothing except a telephone. One night the telephone rings and, well, can you guess what happened next?

This little anecdote came to mind about five minutes after I ran across peak hour traffic to catch a tram I always miss while listening to my Ipod. I just happened to look to my right and notice an ambulance waiting at the stop lights on the other side of the road. Yeah, they will probably be coming back for me if I keep myself hooked up to this thing, I thought to myself.

The world's obsession with techonology - and its obsession with the promise that technology will make our lives better - makes me wonder. I mean back in the day when there were no cars and people lived in smaller communities and walked everywhere people must have spent a lot more time actually talking to each other and depending on each other. Cars, telephones, computers and the internet mean that a lot of people could earn money and buy stuff but spend the rest of their lives never having a meaningful conversation with anyone ever again. In the modern world I could be on a tram with a hundred people and everyone of us could be completely alone.

I am not saying that technology is evil and we should live go back to living in caves but, I dunno, it makes me wonder. Shouldn't meaningful relationships occupy a place of importance in our lives? Isn't this the thing that makes us happy?

P.S. – I am heading to Perth tomorrow for a wedding on Saturday. I plan to post something during the trip but, if the debauchery of what promises to be a complete and utter hootenanny gets the better of me, expect something after Monday with lots of photos.

It took the better part of four hours but there it is: my bookcase built by me. I having been looking forward to this day all week because it meant I would have something to blog about. I wanted you to see all the wonderful tomes I have ploughed through since I was about fifteen and make observations, criticism, jokes in the comments page. However, my “After” shot doesn’t really live up to the expectations I had in my head. Somehow I remember packing a lot more books before I left for Melbourne.

When the job was done and I was cooking my evening meal I felt this strange emptiness come over me. I was pleased that my home was more organised than before and even more pleased that all my favourite books were in place where I could admire then. But, at the same time, I felt disconnected, lonely, depressed. Not because I was alone or particularly sad for some reason but, I think, because I was so satisfied by something so meaningless.

This must be how Edward Norton’s character feels when he talks about being a “slave to the IKEA nesting instinct” at the beginning of Fight Club. I have been looking forward to getting a bookcase ever since I got to Melbourne because it would mean that my living room would like less of a shit heap. But now that I have fulfilled that goal I feel dissatisfied. Perhaps, I should take some advice from Tyler Durden: “I say never be complete. I say stop being perfect. I say lets evolve, let the chips fall where they may”.

I am stuck in a rut. I have been in Melbourne two months and I have become a little too comfortable. As much as I like Fight Club I think it is a good idea to avoid the Tyler Durden solution to this problem, i.e. make soap out of human fat and overthrow society from the bottom up. I need to spend less time with computers and television sets and more time with real people. Break out of my self-involved lifestyle and go help someone.

Speaking of materialism, I am thinking about buying a digital camera. There are two models that stand out but I can’t make a decision. Please help.

(1) Canon Powershot A550 for about $260. This camera operates at 7 megapixels, 4x optical zoom and has an optical view finder. The downside is that has no manual focus option and a small LCD (2 inches). Does manual focus matter?

(2) Kodak C875 for about $300. This camera operates at 8 megapixels, 5x optical zoom and has a manual focus option. The downside is that there is no image stabilisation and no optical viewfinder.

I have a favorite but I will keep it to myself. What do you think? Or should I go for another model?

The Windscreen and the Fly

Between writing a tedious lesson plan and nursing my addiction to The Biggest Loser I have found some time to blog. Marvel in the wake of fantasticity! (cue sarcasm) Prepare to be awestruck by my wisdom!

Seriously though, I wish I was more like D’Jen and blog a few hundred quality words day in day out. That girl is a machine. I know that she has said that she doesn’t think much of her own writing but I can not think of any other blogger who could match her for consistency, quality and quantity. I, sadly, have a pause button on my brain that makes me think twice (and sometimes three or four times) before I blog anything. Usually, by the time I have thought my initial idea through my life has moved on and there is something else I should blog about or there is something in the real world that needs my attention.

One of the things that my pause button works overtime on is relationships in general and relationships with the opposite sex in particular. But after reading a post from this blog I felt, as a guy, I should leave my two cents somewhere in cyberspace. For what my opinion is worth, I would not be ashamed if some bearded IT guy started hitting on me and I was interested in knowing his contact details. (Given that I am a heterosexual bloke that hasn’t happened too often. Although, there have been a couple of “dudes” I have met in tutorials and lecture theatres who have gotten a little too “friendly” for my comfort level.*) Everyone has feelings. Everyone has had a crush on some body and been disappointed. Truth be known, some days you are the wind screen and some days you are the fly.

Perhaps this stuff happen because we are all to a greater or lesser extent hung up about sex. We get that initial sexual zing when we meet someone new and we want to ride that wave for as long as we can. Unfortunately, we over indulge ourselves and any chance we have to develop a relationship gets crowded out by desire and its flipside, anxiety. Finally, we retreat to the old relationships that, on the one hand, serve us so well but also keep us tied our past. If we were just a little more patient we might find a lot more than we expected.

That is my two cents. I invite any and every other person on the face of the planet who has been spurned by a crush to leave their two cents on the comments page as well. By the time we are done we should have enough money to feed Africa, cure cancer and buy out the coal industry .

*Disclaimer: I am not trying to purvey any form of homophobia. Everyone deserves respect, dignity and compassion.

The Sower Sows the Seed...

This is what I did at my tertiary learning institution today:



Now that we are two weeks into this course some of us are starting to wonder why we are paying two thousand dollars a semester to play with textas. These ooey-gooey, touchy-feely learning theories are meant to get us in touch with our core beliefs but for the science and mathematics teachers the phrases 'bollocks' and 'load of arse' are all that come to mind.

Me though, I had fun. The quality of the work speaks for itself.

Why do I get more headaches when I am in Melbourne than when I am in Perth? And why does the index finger on my right hand smell like methylated spirits?

I had an interesting idea to pursue this evening but I went and had dinner with friends from church instead. It will have to happen Thursday night I think.

In the meantime I am going to pop a panadol and get to sleep.

Nighty, night!

The Good, The Bad and The Ugly

BTW: Has there ever been a phrase more overused by sports journalist, bloggers and writers in general? This is not a rhetorical question. Please feel free to make a sarcastic comment or two…

THE GOOD – Doing a DipEd and doing it in Melbourne. After four days of lectures and tutorials it is such a relief to feel that these two choices are right choices. Aside from the state they leave the kitchen in, my cousins C (23) and D (19) are easy to live with and fun to hang out with. I miss the beach but the fact that nobody I went to high school with lives in this town more than makes up for that. I was terrified about the placement I have to do in four weeks but now that I know that I don’t have to be the fountain of all wisdom I am much more at ease. I am even looking forward to going head to head with some Year 9s and seeing if they can’t learn something. Bizarre, I know.


THE BAD – My honours thesis. The long and the short of it is that I didn’t get the mark I wanted. In fact, I got slammed in a seven page, DOUBLE SIDED, review from one of my three examiners. It concluded with this quote from Shakespeare’s Love’s Labor Lost: “He draweth out the thread of his verbosity finer than the staple of his arguments”. Ouch!


THE UGLY – The looming threat of employment. I can’t believe I am asking myself this but, here goes – Do I really want to go back to work? There was a time – approximately four weeks ago – where balancing 18 hours of work with full-time study would have given me a smug sense of moral superiority but now I am starting to wonder. I am content with my modest stipend from the government. I am very happy with the amount of time I have to be a human being with interests other than earning money and earning degrees. Why change anything?


On the whole things are good. My thesis result hurts but so what? First of all, criticism is part of academic life; I just have to suck it up and move on. To be honest some of the criticisms have the ring of truth to them. One of the other examiners said that: “I read the paper as an attempt at a philosophical disquisition without adequate equipment and training as a philosopher, and therefore find it lacking”. Yeah, I did feel out of my depth a lot of the time. I should have worked on thesis that wasn’t strictly “theory”, something that had a creative writing aspect to it. Secondly, it is good to cause a stir. Seven Pages?!? DOUBLE SIDED?!? Most students would kill for that kind of reaction to their thesis.

My First Day

It’s great to be back at university. For a start, there are more pretty girls here than you can swing a dead cat at. It was mostly uneventful but I did see this guy using an ATM near the education building:



It’s funny how spotting a celebrity tempts me to gawk like a slack-jawed yokel and shout out “Hey! I have seen you on television!” Even seeing a patron of my old workplace after a stint on Big Brother was kind of odd. Part of me wanted to pull out my camera and take a photo of BJ as he fumbled with his wallet but I know this would have been weird for both of us.

21 Things

Look, a bridge! Yes, this photo is irrelevant except for the fact that it adds colour to an otherwise dull space. Hey, here is some stuff about me.

1) I am a Christian.

2) My favorite TV show of all time is The Sopranos.

3) I am twenty-five years old.

4) I have pictures of sail boats on my doona.

5) I am 5’ 10’’ (179cm).

6) In an ideal world I would like to be 6’ 1’’ because I would look cooler and still be good at soccer and cricket.

7) I live in Melbourne.

8) I use to live in Perth.

9) I received my first welfare payment ever last week.

10) I want to buy a new digital camera.

11) I am studying to be teacher.

12) I studied civil engineering for three years and then dropped out.

13) I am single.

14) I can play “Blackbird” from The Beatles White Album on my guitar.

15) My favourite beer is Corona. With a slice of lemon.

16) I once swallowed a 10c piece during a drinking game.

17) I am pretty fit. I scored 12.4 in a beep test in January.

18) I am too uncoordinated to play basketball.

19) I like living near the ocean but hardly ever swim in it.

20) I am almost out of orange juice.

21) This is my third attempt at a blog.

I moved to Melbourne four weeks ago and having spent a lot of that time without regular access to my Ipod (left it back in Perth), newspapers (too poor at the moment) and the internet has taught me that I can do without (post)-modern conveniences, if I need to. It’s funny how the things that supposedly make our lives better actually steal our joy because they distract us from the one thing that really matters: relationships and people. I’m a lot happier – and I even appreciate technology a lot more – when I spend less time around it.



Why am I starting a blog then? I love blogs, they rock. I especially love how the seemingly mundane details of a person’s life can be shaped into a story that is humorous, tragic and uplifting. Writing gives you the power to find an identity and, if you need to, shed your skin and start fresh somewhere else.

On the other hand, spending too much time on a blog (like spending too much time with technology) makes you very self-absorbed. The type of lifestyle that is centered around my desires and getting everything I want is not particularly fulfilling. True freedom is not getting everything you want, it is being free from yourself.

What is really cool about blogging, is not that it gives you an opportunity to construct a more authentic self – that is just an added extra. Blogging, like any form of writing, offers , us the chance to inscribe knowledge and give insight. When we write about the things that makes us laugh or cry, give us hope or make us fear, we are not just getting something off our chest or telling a story that is entertaining, we are helping each other, we are teaching each other how to live. I hope that that is what this blog can be about.