Shazam! Arts of Gold.

I know! Its almost a miracle, me actually blogging more than a couple months apart. But anyway - on to other things. Today was a charity concert at St.Johns' College. Twice a year, we throw a concert to raise funds for underprivileged children in a South African Orphanage. I sang twice in my first year. Unfortunately, time constraints, a lack of commitment and a disillusionment about my ability all contributed to a no-show on my part.

This year, following the funeral (see previous post) I found out Arts of Gold (thats what the concert is called) was held the next night. I hummed and hawwed, and finally after talking to a choir mate decided to sing something. I sang Vincent - or otherwise Starry Starry Night - by Don McLean. Funnily enough I wasn't nervous. I usually am everytime I perform something. But tonight, I felt a strange calm - it was sorta funny. I knew it was my last Arts of Gold ever. So I guess in many ways I wasn't pressured because noone was gonna laugh at me if I screwed up. Heh. I didn't even know the words! It was so last minute - the accompaniment pulled through for me - so thank you Damian. (he actually got me the song - so it would never have happened without him. =p)

But after singing it, I realised I'd been missing out. I wish I'd done it more while I was here. Its only a small contribution I guess, but knowing I've done just a little bit for some kid out there makes me feel good about myself. Of course this is compounded by people tapping me on the back saying, "I didn't know you could sing" or "Well done mate, that was awesome". I was pretty embarressed actually, I even had to hold on to my music because I didn't know all the words. -shamefaced-

But then Alice, a girl who I sang with at choir last year - came up to me when it was over and said to me, "I wish you'd have sung more while I was here. Your Hallelujah in 1st year made me cry." I dunno...when someone says something like that to you, just how do you react? I was proud, shy, embarrassed and happy all at the same time. In many ways, it was a sort of validation for myself - a little confidence booster.

After the concert, all the musicians got together and we had a little jam session. I'm surprised I could still mix it with the blokes from the Conservatorium! We jammed the night away, everyone jumped in and we sang a whole heap of songs, Oasis, Jack Johnson, ACDC and I kept chiming in with the guitars. It was awesome! I didn't know many of the songs but I managed to figure most of them. Then Sparkee goes, "Jules mate, you're like Shazam on the iPhone, I just play something and you sort it out!".

The funny thing is, most people get a nickname when they're freshers - seagull for the state swimmer, sex panther for the guy who hooked up with someones mum, sex rat for the guy who hooked up with anyone and everyone. Sex mouse for his younger brother. I get Shazam in my last week of uni and college. Poignant.

Damian's got a recording of tonight, he even has recordings of all my performances - which I never knew about. Hopefully I'll be able to get them off him. Perhaps I'll post them online if they're any good. Back in first year, it was my dream to be a musician. But i grew so disillusioned with the industry. But tonight...well, I sometimes like to think maybe my dreams aren't so far fetched after all.

Thank *you*, for making me jump in and believing in myself.

~100% of the shots you don't take, don't go in~ Wayne Gretzky

The year so far

Yes, I'm well aware that its about time I blog again. Considering its been ages, I just thought I'd do a brief run through of my life at the moment.

Soccer season ended in September. We were bottom of the table in March and made it up to fourth come playoff time, but we lost out in the semis. All in all a fairly interesting season. Made some great mates and learnt alot about how to play the beautiful game.

Boxing season keeps going. You watch it on TV and you reckon you could do it...but its certainly not as easy as it looks. By far its the most physically and mentally challenging sport I've ever had the opportunity to partake in. I spend hours after hours with my coach just figuring out how to fine tune the way my body mechanics make it possible for me to throw the best punch it can throw. Its tedious and tiring. But for some reason I just love it.

They say the ring is a lonely place, but its where I face all my fears. And its helped me become a better person. Nowadays, everytime I encounter a difficult situation, I think back to my fights and spars. And I always think, "Nothing could be worse than getting bashed in the ring".

That being said, boxing is a dirty sport rife with corruption, even at amateur level. I was meant to participate in the university championships a week ago. I trained hard, lost weight and come fight time, my opponents pulled out. It was frustrating. I was willing to fight someone heavier, wearing heavier gloves and all sorts of concessions. But still - noone would step up. I don't think i've encountered anything quite as frustrating. It hurts when everything you trained hard for is for nought because noone will match up against you, or the organizers won't match any of their stable fighters against you.

One of my college mates just passed away on friday. He was hit by a car. A talented actor, he was cut down in the prime of life - just 19. I sing at his funeral on monday. He would surely have poked fun at me for singing something so cliche as Hallelujah. But then again - he would snigger at the innuendo involved - and how i'd be singing about women tying me to the kitchen chair in a church. But then again, knowing Jordan's propensity for the inappropriate, he'd have thought it a pretty apt. (The implication - not the song)

Exams are in 3 weeks, and then its the end of uni life forever...or for awhile. At any rate, it'll be a funny feeling. All the same, I'm not quite too sure whether I'm looking forward to it, or fearing it. In any event, it'll be a fun time. Gotta bounce to training. Will write soon.

~What is the measure of a man?~

Recap

Its been a funny couple months.

Dads been in and out of the hospital. Funny how you appreciate the value of life when its about to be taken away from you. I never thought I'd have to face the possibility of never seeing the old man again until his complication arose. It could have gone either way. And I'm thankful he's doing good. Its one of those things you never think will happen to you, but then when it does, your jaw sort of drops in disbelief and you think, "NO! No no no no no no no!" But then when the dust clears you realise that its real and you just gotta sit down and handle it like a rational adult.

It made me realise that if my father were to leave, I'd be the one my brother would look too as a father-figure. The one my mother would look too for support. And I'd have to step up and do the right thing. It also made me realise how fragile my mother is...I know women have delicate sensibilities - but bloody hell my mother takes it to another level. Corporate hard case she may be, but when it comes to dad she's like tau foo fah.

Nonetheless, happier days are here, and I'm thankful for alot of things. Life could be worse.

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.