Throwback

I seem to have gone all retro with my music.

Currently on the playlist:
Def Leppard - Two Steps Behind
Hootie and the Blowfish - Hold My Hand
Eric Clapton - Fathers Eyes, Cocaine, Blue Eyes Blue, Change The World, Badge
Aerosmith - Girls of Summer, Pink

And some newer stuff:
The Kooks: Naive
Razorlight: America

Any like sounding music to add to the list anyone?

Raindrops

It’s raining again. Unusually, the rain has been no reprieve for a solitary heart. I miss home and my family and my brother. Apparently 6 years does nothing to relieve the sudden yearning for home that waylays you when you least expect. When I was a young lad (younger than I am now anyhow) I used to think I feared nothing, knew what I wanted. I was always so sure of myself. Youth has its benefits in providing one with the irrefutable confidence in one’s own ability (whether rightly so, or otherwise). The funny thing is while experience is the best – albeit most costly – teacher, it’s also the one which sows that constant seed of doubt in your mind. I’m not quite sure whether it was naiveté that accorded a young man the degree of confidence I once had. Walking through the dodgiest neighbourhoods whistling a jolly tune at 1 in the morning was a normal occurrence. I’d walk a straight line through Redfern, climb fences and walk through backyards for the shortest route home. No care. That was circa 2006 though.

Three years down the track, and I walk around blind corners. I make myself as unobtrusive as possible when walking through Surry Hills (The unfashionable end) and of course Redfern. I shy away from Victoria Park and make sure the routes I take are well lighted. Am I afraid? I’m not quite sure. I wouldn’t say I’m quaking in my boots ...I suppose I’m just more risk adverse and alot more wary. Maybe it’s a genetic thing. People worry more when they get older. So whether experience is a “good” thing is pretty subjective I reckon. Perhaps the hardest bit about growing up is finding the ability to maintain your confidence in your abilities even after you’ve fallen down a couple of times. And yet draw on your experiences to tell you what an “appropriate” course of action would be in a given situation. Personally I enjoy reckless abandon for the very thrill it gives you. That rush of adrenaline on making a split second decision that can turn out the way you want it to. But there are some merits to a cold calculated approach and seeing the fruits of your meticulous labour – I guess I just like being proven right.

Nonetheless, we each have a preferred approach to life. One naturally more conservative and the other a slightly more liberal path...I only wish that I knew which would be – statistically speaking – the most successful. Is it worth the stress of planning? Or the stress of seeing a gamble *not* pay off. Worth pondering.

Of Chicken Burgers

I've stumbled across what has to be - for my money anyway - the best chicken burger in sydney. And by best i mean tastes great - without burning a hole the size of a fist in your wallet. (e.g <$10) Its made with real chicken breast - not the traditional meat pattie. Marinated in a secret blend of onion, chilli and some other stuff which are indiscernible from where I sit.

The meat is grilled till cooked through and yet still succulent. The bun is graced with a slab of butter and lightly toasted. The lettuce is fresh, still crispy, crunchy and glistening with water - not the usual McD's lettuce thats been hiding round the back of the freezer for weeks. The tomato is just as fresh, light in flavour, not soggy, firm to the bite - lending a bit of zest to the burger. An egg is thrown on the grill - the yolk cooked through but not burnt to the plastic consistency most fry eggs to. the condiments are thrown together and wallah...bliss in a mouthful. Its got close to no oil - nice and healthy - and it tastes fan-bloody-tastic. Add to the fact it only costs $7 - which is roughly what a kebab costs anyway and its great value for money. At least I know what meat I'm getting - doner is pretty dodgy sometimes.

But thats not the point of this post. The point is this.

Most people who know me wouldn't label me as predictable. Or even a creature of habit. Heck, *I* wouldn't call myself a creature of habit. However, over the years I've noticed a certain trend. While the manner which by I live my life may be fairly dynamic and unpredictable. It tends to revolve around a very fixed schedule. Which would be food and sport. I get up - I exercise, I eat, go to uni, eat, train, eat, sleep. Anything beyond that is fairly diverse. But in general theres a structure I've worked around - all this is completely subconscious.

Why Chicken burger? Because most fridays, I finish training late. So I run down to the shop -they know me well now...I can even order by telephone in advance - and pick up my order for two chicken burgers. Now I do this every friday - the same order at roughly the same time. (About 11-ish) And its reached a point where the lady at the counter doesn't wait for my call anymore - the chickens on the grill before I ring.

And what makes it all the more scary is that - while I know I regularly make the same orders at my favoured food institutions, the rate of consumption is the same. Confused? Let me explain. When finished with my chicken burgers last friday, I looked for a bin to dispose of the rubbish. As it happened, I walked past a 7-11 and saw a bin just in front. This friday, i ordered two chicken burgers, ate them on my walk home, and i finished both, just as i stopped in front of the 7-11. And all this without having a conscious thought except, "Fuck this Burger is awesome."

To realllly break it down. This would mean that despite the differing weight content in the burger. The rate of consumption of the burger and the average speed at which I travelled was exactly the same as that when I walked on the same route a week ago. Which - while some of you may find unimportant - I find rather unusual to say the least.

It makes me wonder - am I a creature of extreme habit? Or do I fall into some strange sub-category? Or is it just some deja vu thing I don't know about...I hate being confused.

Retrospectively

I'm just terrible at this sort of thing. I'm not really eloquent when it comes to things like that. Its just not me. I'd like it to be though.

I wish I could be a little less embarrassed, a little more assured.

A little less worried, less tongue-tied.

More confident, more to-the-point.

Les confused, more trusting.

I wish sometimes I could take back the things I've said, or the things I've done. I'm brash and belligerent at times. And at times I just think I'm not good enough - but hey - thats part of life.

At junctures in your life like these - when it matters - you wish sometimes the words that usually slide of the tongue smoothly and the sentences which draw pictures and paint stories for those around you would work. But it doesn't. The ink runs dry and you're lost for words. Why? The things you take for granted are sometimes that which you miss the most. This is truth.

Mortality

Its funny how the subject of death once again brings me to write. Perhaps it is my muse? I certainly hope not...

Today I was reminded again how fragile human life is. I was watching the indoor league before my class at 1 - as is my wont. One of the teams consisted of faculty staff and as faculty staff tend to be - slightly older.

Couple minutes into the kick around, one of the lads no older than 35 (judging from appearance) collapsed. He just keeled over and passed out. His teammates tried to revive him but to no avail. An ambulance was hailed immediately and the paramedics rushed to the scene, trying their best to resuscitate the man. CPR didn't work - so out came the defibrillator. That didn't work either. His teammates were distraught. One with a ponytail kept walking about tears streaming down his face with an expression of utter and absolute shock on his face.

In boxing they say its the punches you don't see coming that hurt you the most. I guess its the same with life - when the unexpected occurs thats when its the most painful. I very nearly broke down in tears. I fought back the fiery heat I could feel welling behind my eyeballs and forced myself to walk away. How does life just end so? As I walked to my class I thought - life really is a fleeting moment. A short and succinct dream that can end in the blink of an eye. It could end tomorrow, today, now even! And I say to myself as I walk down the gravel path - life is for living - to the fullest, to the most. I could keel over and die tomorrow - but if I do, I sure as hell wanna put up a good show before I go.

“Every day has been so short, every hour so fleeting, every minute so filled with the life I love that time for me has fled on too swift a wing.” - Aga Khan III

Final Reflections

Its funny what you learn about yourself and loved ones when you're on the brink of death. Last Friday I drove off the road in my haste to get home. Taking a corner at 80ish after the rain is never a good idea - kids, don't try this at home. Skidding...hitting a lampost...a car then smashing a wall and landing in a ditch isn't the best option either. Cracking the windshield - with my head - wasn't too clever as well (courtesy of my non-seatbelt wearing self). The damage?

Car: Written off.
Person:Internal bleeding around the chest, head and scrapes to the knees and head. Swelling on contact area with windshield.

None of that compares though to my fathers expression when he saw my face. I've never thought it was possible for a person to be simultaneously so angry and yet so scared at the same time. As Al put it, "Dei...I think on top your fathers head I can cook one roti canai, one thosai and come la! The fire all coming out!"

When he saw me, the first thing he said was, "Idiot". But as they say, 50% of communication is non-verbal, 30% tone and the rest is vocabulary. Nothing conveyed his concern more than his brief, yet firm grasp on my head to check I was still alive, and the brusque yet quivering voice.

They say your life flashes before your eyes. Its true. Sometimes you also make a silly face just before shit hits the fan. (Or in my case head hit the windscreen). The funny thing is prophecies tend to be self fulfilling. Just the afternoon mum said, "Julian! If you die tonight I have no regrets because I know I tried my best with you!" Not wanting to leave the last word my follow up of, "If *I* die tonight I won't have any either because I did my best too!" Mums lung-crushing bear hug and nerve-wracking sobs were enough to make me sick to my stomach of myself.

Sometimes your best just isn't enough. Sometimes you just have to try harder. You never know when its gonna end. Because life is short. And the only certainty in life is that there is no such thing as certainty. I could die tommorow, today...now even. But what will be said about me when I'm gone? I don't know. But as the gang says, "Who cares about the weather! As long as we're together!" I told Aaron, "Dude, if I'd have died...you'd better have cried alot. And said plenty of nice things. Euphemisms acceptable."

One week after the anniversary of their eldest child's passing their - now eldest - child decides to go play michael schumacher. The folly of youth. As a child I always wondered, why dad worked so hard, drank so much and came back home quietly distressed. It was only that night I discovered it took him the better part of a decade to get over Jason's passing. Uncle Max told me that almost everynight after drinking himself into a blind stupor dad used to drive to the cemetary and sit there quietly. He no longer does it. But...I would never want to see my father reduced to that state because of me. His largest regret in life is that he never gave ahma a hug the day she passed on. He hugs me before bed everynight. Sneaks into my room to check on me at 5 in the morning (even at 22). Yet grunts brusquely when I chirp a g'morning his way. Funny old man.

We looked at old photos couple of days after my incident. Dad smiles with some melancholy everytime we pass jason and ruffles my hair as to assure himself I'm flesh and blood - alive and escaping an untimely demise. We horse around and I let him win a wrestle (its an ego thing). We watch the Australian open final. I scoff at ManU and Federers gut. He laughs at my fifth placed gooners and calls Nadal a construction worker. Someone out there saved me that night. Jason? Maybe...who knows. I'm thankful. Keep us safe brother.

Striking Eyes

Today I realised just how far off the dream I have fallen. How jaded I am. How cynical I have become. How stupid. How lost. Yet, in some corner of my mind, perhaps the dream was never to be. I don't even know anymore. I've spent too long thinking and to be honest I think its about time I started doing.

"You can still do what you love and live the lifestyle you want what." and "Lifeless". Two comments which cut deep to the core. My heart hasn't stopped so many times in one afternoon since I was 14. Did what she say make sense? Yes. Do I agree? Yes. Do I think she's right? Yes...and no. Why? Its almost inexplicable...except for the fact that I believe in myself and that the way I go about my work is right. Compartmentalization seems to be the way to be successful.

I asked myself today. Do I love finance? The answer is a resounding yes. So while you may not ever read this, I thank you. Your questions answered many things for me today. I love what I do...and thats why I do it. The money is certainly a large part. But I certainly wouldn't do it if I had no interest whatsoever...unless the pay is extremely attractive (But thats another story for another day).

Today has shown me that sometimes I need a good shock to the system. A kick in the teeth. It didn't hurt that she was fiery enough to stand up to me. It didn't hurt that she had striking eyes and a brilliant smile. And it certainly didn't hurt that her words have been the rudest Christmas present in all my life...yet somehow the most valuable and probably will be the most memorable.

Merry Christmas