Switched On or Regurgitating?

It isn't uncommon for me to start up conversations with strangers. If they aren't feeling conversant, or only supply me with a polite acknowledgement, I'll leave them be. Sometimes, however, these little interjections can turn into conversations that last a few hours, bouncing from one topic to another, like a kid jumping in puddles after a storm has passed.

Most of these interactions usually occur in bars, as people are relaxed, happy (and getting happier by the glass!) and not AS cautious of total strangers invading their personal space ‘bubble’. However, there are moments out there in the sober light of the real world, that people are also open to such exchanges.

Whilst I was sitting at one end of a bench seat, another (not unattractive) man at the other, a homeless bloke was doing the Friday pre-peak hour request for spare change. He could barely open his eyes. He passed from me to my fellow bench-sitter and then quickly made his way to a near-by gathering of humanity, after failing to solicit anything from either of us. I looked to my companion, saying, “He’d probably have a little more success if he opened his eyes a bit.” (I knew he wasn’t sight-impaired having been approached by him on numerous occasions, previously). He replied, “Or work for a living, like the rest of us!”

After a brief pause, during which a string of thoughts Warp Factor 9-ed through my mind, I threw another line out there. From the personal development books I have read, I observed that he might actually make a good salesman, seeing that he had already been conditioned in dealing with rejection and knew that it was a numbers game. After various turns, the conversation steered to why my chat-buddy was there, staring down at his phone.

He had just had received some rejection of his own, from his girlfriend. We chatted for a while, and recalling ideas and strategies that I had read about in my books, we talked about how one deals with such rejections, and love in a broader sense. He then said something, which spurred me on to this 500. “You seem like you’re pretty switched on!” Soon after, I had to leave.

So: am I REALLY ‘switched on’? God knows I’ve had little experience with love, but a good deal with rejection. Or was I really just regurgitating ideas and vague platitudes, moulding them to suit the topic at hand? Did they sound like words of wisdom to this young man because he wanted/needed to hear them? Or, as touched on during our conversation, was it just that I was willing to listen, rather than just dismiss it with, “Shit, that’s no good.”, and leave him. Or am I subconsciously modelling the techniques of the personal development gurus, seeing that a lot, if not all, usually rehash core material with their own personal spin on it?

The answers to these questions can be found at my next seminar. Book early to avoid disappointment, this offer is only for a limited time, tickets are selling fast, secure your seats TODAY!

Resignati-a vu and gut lessons

This time last year, there about, I handed my resignation in from my, then, full time job. Whilst at the time I thought I was just going to find another job, it slowly turned into a business idea which would appear to be a good one, from the feedback I’ve received from those I’ve told it to. So I started looking into it, and getting a little background information, checking out websites, talking to those who had started businesses from scratch and had owned their own businesses in the past. And to further validate the idea, I was getting a few jobs along the way, just not under my business, employed under their terms. There was definitely a call for what I was offering. And then my former work asked me to help out, as they were ‘having trouble’ finding someone. So I did that and then both places that I was working at, suddenly told me I was no longer needed as they had found people, or had people return. Suddenly, but not really unexpectedly. I was asked if I wanted to do some kitchenhand shifts, but I declined, knowing the path that would lead down.

Then, there was a time of no work, which I wasn’t particularly worried about. I got some exercise in, rested, and was feeling pretty good. I could imagine that this was what it would be like living the life of financial freedom. Of course, I wasn’t financially free, and the money began to grow scant, but the Universe did provide. Two more temp positions opened up: one for a month and another also for a month, which turned into 6 weeks. And then my former work asked me to help out again, as my replacement was moving on. And so I stepped in once again.

Then it got to the point where the other chef needed a break from having to close every weekend, so I was asked to help out one day there, and then two. Then one of the kitchenhands left suddenly, and they needed someone straight away: “Would you mind stepping in just for a few weeks, one day, until we find someone?” Here, again, I SHOULD have said no. But I didn’t, because I like to help out. And what I thought would happen, began to happen. Even though I was there as a kitchenhand, I was being asked to cook the occasional order while the other chef was having a smoke break. Regardless of what I COULD do, I wasn’t supposed to be there in that capacity. I wasn’t being paid extra money to do extra tasks, I was being paid extra money because I was an immediate and casual fill-in. So I thought. That was well over 6 months ago, and now I’m working 3-4 days a week at the place that I resigned from.

I had lessons to learn, those being: always pay attention to your gut, your instinct. And if you are going to do something to help out, do so with a time frame.

Upfront, and aware?

I would like to address two issues, which are totally irrelevant to each other, but which occurred on the same night, hence the grouping.

The first, and lesser relevant I guess, is the idea of the pre-paid taxi ride. While the concept isn’t foreign to me, having been ‘widely’ (in the loosest terms of the word) advertised within the taxi industry here in Australia, it’s the first time that I’ve actually had it enforced upon me. My taxi ride home, which is more often than not from Sircuit Bar to home, is normally around the $20 mark, and more often than not, I’ll round it up to $25, to give the driver a tip. However tonight, for the first time, I was asked to pay for my taxi ride upfront.  While not a major issue, the upfront fair did actually feel like an upfront and personal judgement on myself, as a person.

I can understand that there are people out there that are likely to fare-evade, and have seen the news items and current affairs articles where taxi drivers have been subject to de-frauding of their fares, at the very least, and their lives taken, at the most extreme, I find it a little insulting that this particular taxi driver decided to charge such fee upon me. Does this mean he made a judgement call on me, or was it a broader judgement call on the venue from which I hailed him from, or was it just a culmination of his experiences in the past, as a taxi driver? As a result, I kept a very close, if not blurry, eye on his speed and his meter. To his misfortune, he only got a $0.60 tip, where he would normally have got a minimum $4.00 tip. (I usually round my fares up to $25.)

On the other subject, and this is more a state of my mind, than that of the people I know: is my presence really missed or noticed? Some straight people (with a token gay), came to the bar that I usually frequent, and due to the position I was standing at, couldn’t but notice my presence as they entered. Naturally, I’d had a drink or two more than they had by the time of their arrival, but after greeting each other, I began to wonder if they even really cared that I was there or not. That then led me to thinking if ANYONE cared if I was there or not. They may note my absence, but I would like to think that on occasion, there are some that would actually care that I wasn’t there; that they would think, or say, “Where did Peter go?”, and not in just a casual, after-thought, kind of way, but with actual caring and feeling. I realise I’m never going to be that person that stands out in a crowd because he is the best looking, or the funniest, or performs that one particular party trick. But it would be nice to think I am missed because I’m me.

Daylight Savings Flutters

Once again, sleep evades me. My mind is awash and a-swirl with the detritus of thoughts from the past 24 hours and beyond. The ever-present distraction of each snatch of idea, imagining and daydream rattles against the shutters of slumber I have tried to draw against the mental storm within and around.  And it’s not as though it’s the lethal missiles which hurricanes and cyclones can transform large inanimate objects into; I’m not plagued by world peace, global financial crises, planetary starvation, rape and pillaging. The distraction to my sleep is more like the annoyance of willy-willy as it rises from nowhere, for not very long, before descending to nowhere, only to pop into existence in the nearby vicinity. The scraps of leaves, motes of dirt and dried and brittle twigs of my thoughts taunt my attempt of unconsciousness with echoes of how to spend the millions that weren't won in the recent lottery; what could my Mother possibly have considered buying for me as a birthday present that she considers I’ve wanted for a while and hopes I haven’t already purchased. Something that would cause her consternation with regard to my retrieving it from the Post Office.

Eddies of events weeks and weeks away obscure my dreams as I try to imagine spending, and enjoying, New Year’s Day, drinking and dancing, cavorting and amazing as I ‘bust my moves’ on the dance-floor. Of course, then there is the sheer ludicrousness of even the GLIMMER of an idea that I could bust ANYTHING on the dance-floor…unless it be someone’s drink, or jaw (if the flailing of my arms built up the adequate momentum and trajectory).

But then, is it the aimless, pithy whirling of fragmentary thoughts that distracts me from the depths of sleeping nothingness? Or could it be that time of the year, or one of two, to be more precise, when we speed the sun forward for a moment, turn the earth back a little, and confuse and confound our minds and bodies with Daylight Savings. Am I merely just out of sync with me, trying to sleep when I’d normally be trying to stay awake? Forcing myself, with insistence and urgency, to relax and release the day that was. It’s gone now, done and dusted, irretrievable to unwind, rewind and cast anew.

Like a phantasm shimmering on the surface of the pond of possibilities, it taunts me with what I have done and not done, cajoles me with the roulette wheel signpost of choices that still lay before me, each one equally as inviting as the next and the previous, and yet already, before they are begun, if feels like time has already run out. Which choice, too long ago, should have been another? Why do I feel like a passenger on a south-bound train, heading north? I can’t remember the last station that we stopped at, nor where the next one ahead is. Or have I passed the nearest stop as the train enters the express portion of tonight’s timetable. One, please, to sleep!

Destination: Happy Place!

Last night, as I was trying to get to sleep, my mind was racing. The unfortunate thing is that it wasn’t racing about anything in particular, or of any import. It was just racing. So I tried to calm it. I tried a few relaxation exercises, one of which is to think of a peaceful place, the default of which is usual a beach of golden sands, the gentle swoosh as the waves gently race up the beach and whisper back to the sea, the clear, blue skies above, the gentle wave of the palm fronds above. And while if I was to find myself in this environment, I’m sure that I would find it very relaxing, it wasn’t the kind of visualisation that was going to work for me. (In all honesty, it never has been!) So I tried to think of areas and places that I have found peaceful and relaxing in the past, places that work for me, and not necessarily ones that would work for others or most people. Eventually, I made my way to the top of one of the old pine trees I used to climb as a teenager. The act of climbing was as much a relaxing exercise as the goal of reaching the top of the tree (or as far up as one could go where the branches would support you, rather than send you plummeting to the ground, being stabbed, scratched, whipped and punished by the branches as you fell). It was while I was toying with this imagery that I realised that I hadn’t actually ‘climbed’ anything (other than the stairs or escalators at various train stations and shopping centres around Melbourne) for YEARS! That was it! I suddenly had this need to climb something! (Luckily the need, the urge, the drive didn’t need to be sated IMMEDIATELY! It could hold off. Otherwise I would probably look a little weird trying to find a tree to climb at 12:30am in the morning.)

That also made me realise that, for the most part, climbing trees around most of the metropolitan area is probably going to be illegal (definitely in gardens and on nature-strips….so my gut tells me, at least), and if not illegal, just bizarre, if you aren’t a 10 year old kid or trying to rescue a bird or cat. So what was I to do! I needed to climb! (Yep, you are right: none of this was relaxing and did nothing to quell the racing of my mind!) I knew of two places that provided indoor rock-climbing, but the last time I tried checking on the first, I’d been given the impression it was prohibitively expensive. The other was still being built. Both occasions happened years ago. So the place that was just being built was well and truly completed and had been in operation for quite a few years. A quick search revealed that it was definitely cheaper than I had imagined. I had found my release. I was going to find my happy place….or at least scout it out. And with that decision made, sleep soon came.

A Charmed Love.....or a Handshake?

It’s been another week of contemplating my navel on various aspects of my life. Last Wednesday (1/8), I caught up with a couple of friends (one intentionally, one accidentally) and had great conversations with them. As well, over the past couple of weeks, I’ve been watching the entire Charmed series. The connection between the two? Love!

I often wish there was someone that could give me a nudge in the right direction when it came to love. As Pheobe had her Cupid (Coop), I would love to have someone to give me a little guidance. On the other hand, I also wonder if I’m ready for love? Does the rest of my life have to be in some semblance of order before I can have someone else come into my life and my heart? If that’s the case, then I’m thinking I’m kind of screwed, at least from my perspective.

Another idea that popped into my mind was the notion of needing someone else to make your life complete. I know that there are definitely two sides to THAT argument. Obviously, there is the idea that when you find that special someone, they will ‘click’ with and for you and that together the ‘sum’ of you both as a couple will be greater than the parts of you as your individual selves. Similar to saying that a light globe is just an intricate glass ornament until you add electricity, that a cake mix is just a sloppy mix until you add heat. That’s the way that I view myself. As an individual, I can do good things, but if I meet and find one of those ‘someones’ then I’ll be able to do great things. I need someone or something to act as a catalyst for me.

Of course, the other argument is that if you can’t be the person you are supposed to be, to love yourself and have your life in order and your direction sorted by yourself, then to add someone else to the mix and expect them to ‘complete’ you is just a fallacy; that the combination, while shining for the short-term, will eventually crash and burn, more often than not, spectacularly.

And that’s just the whole romantic, emotional side of things. That doesn’t take into the whole attraction aspect, the physical chemistry. There are many people that I am attracted to, at least initially. I’d enjoy getting past ‘initially’ to see if there was any other connection, if only they would take the chance.  Of course, there are a few people that are attracted to me who, unfortunately, do nothing for me. But just because I’m not willing to have sex with them doesn’t mean that I’m not willing to meet them for a coffee and chat. After all, you don’t need to have sex with people to be their friends, do you? But then, as I’ve come to realise, when it comes to the gay community, or at least the fellas, sex would appear to be the gay version of a handshake. I’m done ‘shaking hands’. I want love.templating my

Apathy Makes the Heart Slow Longer

Two months of lacking any real motivation! It’s kind of scary! Clearly, I’m not happy with where my life is at, at the moment, but I am grateful that for what I do have: a roof over my head, money coming in, more than just the bare essentials for existing. I would like more flexibility and freedom, however. But my life is clearly not so uncomfortable that it is providing motivation and impetus to change it. Again, I’m confronted with the question of am I just too lazy to move out of my own way, too uninspired, or too lost and directionless? Unfortunately, I think that it might be a generous dose of all three, plus one or more of the Colonel’s secret herbs and spices.

It’s clear, from past experience (especially when it comes to bills and finances), that I work better with a goal, something that can visibly be measured. I find it so much easier to pay down a bill than I do to save up to an amount. To be honest, those are really the only kind of goals that I usually end up achieving. The first thing that comes to mind is the fact that they have repercussions if I don’t follow through on them. Having a goal like a holiday or saving a certain amount doesn’t have the same kind of implications.

I’ve read many self-improvement books that say we run from pain and run to pleasure. Unfortunately, for me, running from the pain is the greater motivator, and it would appear that my capacity to endure pain is higher than would be preferred. It would appear that pleasure doesn’t have as great a compulsion or magnetism for me as it does for a lot of people. The thought that just popped into my head: Does that make me lazy, or apathetic?

Over the years, I’ve read many profiles online, both for and against, the idea of someone to ‘complete’ them.  I may fall into that category, but then there are other times when I think that I don’t necessarily need someone to complete me, but to simply act as that ‘flashpoint’, that catalyst, which will spark me into a better me.  Is it possible that for there to be a ‘better’ me, it will be more rewarding for the better me to be for someone else? Am I an empty vessel that needs someone else to fill me with a purpose to bring a greater meaning to my life, and a greater fulfilment to me? Do I need to be helping others more before I can even think of helping myself? (This last one is also a common theme that has been springing up in the aforementioned self-help books.)

I’m guessing that I need a fire of some sort to be lit under my arse to get me truly ‘going’! It’s just a matter of how big does it need to be, and with what kind of fuel does it need to be fed before my brilliance can truly burn!

The Other Funk!

27/06/2012 10:43 PM

It’s been an interesting month. Or more, I guess. I’ve actually been feeling a little flat, unmotivated, and uninspired. When I have to get up and get out of bed and go to an appointment or work, I can do that, no worries. It’s more a point of when I don’t have anything pressing to do that I’m finding that I’m just lying in bed until all hours of the morning, and sometimes a little into the afternoon. And then what do I do? I make my way all the way out to the lounge-room, into the bean-bag with my spare doona wrapped around me, and watch dvds or just fool around online, while periodically checking my Scruff and Grindr accounts. I’ve had some awesome chats with fellas from overseas, but as it always turns out with regard to internet/online, it’s the fellas from overseas that are interested and the ones in the backyard can’t even put two words together (Even if those two words are “No Thanks!”) So, the lack of companionship, intimacy and friendship with other men, predominantly, is getting me down a little. But it isn’t the whole or sole cause of my funk.

Money, or the lack thereof, is also a great promotor of a funk. I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned it previously, but I honestly don’t know how people do it. How they can have credit card debt, personal loan debt, and even home loan debt, and still manage to go out and have a life and mix and mingle with people. I have two credit cards, both pretty much maxed out at the moment, and that is my only debt. Everything else is just the regular stuff like food and bills and rent.  And yet at the end of the week, there doesn’t seem to be enough. It could be that I’m doing it all by myself, paying the bills, the rent, etc.; that I’m not in a share situation. To be honest, I really don’t think I would go well trying to move into that kind of situation after having been by myself pretty much most of my life. If I could give one piece of advice to the younger generation, it would be live in share accomodation for the first 10 years of your life outside of home, share the costs of living, as well as put money aside for ‘later’. That’s something that all the money books never mention. Mind you, I think my case is probably more the exception, than the rule. Most people have their networks and their social circles. So what seems like a stretch and a mid-life ‘revelation’, is more than likely something that comes natural to most of the rest of the world.

For the most part, I’m generally a pretty upbeat and chirpy kind of fella. But no-one can be up all the time. It’s just that when I am down, it’s usually with a bit of thud, and thinks look kind of grey. I know ‘Up’ is there, and I’ll get back there soon.

Service Announcement: If you are feeling down and not at all bouncy, and have a feeling that it more than just a passing mood variation, remember that there are those out there who can help. In Australia, there is Lifeline (13 11 14) with trained counsellors there to help. 

Down To The Wire!

In desperation, I’m finding (or forcing) inspiration. I find myself down to the wire, in more ways than one, once again. With mere hours left of May, I’m forcing myself to write, but then, that was the whole point of revamping this blog in the first place. I guess a review of the month would be the best option. It’s been quite a month, at that, and yet not so much a noteworthy one that would provide enthralling reading ‘out there’. The most noteworthy event of the month was my ‘weekend’ in Sydney, where I attended a marketing and leadership seminar, run by Stuart Zadel. As it turned out, it was the last of these seminars/weekends that he and his company would facilitate. I arrived in Sydney the day before the seminar was due to start, and left the day after. The way I figured it: I wasn’t going to be cooking, I was out of Melbourne, I was staying in a hotel. To me, that technically added up to a holiday! I won’t go into what happened within the seminar, needless to say that it was very insightful, but I will say that time took on a different meaning. By the end of the first day, it felt like I’d already been there for a full weekend. By the end of the third day, it felt like a week and a half had passed. There was a lot of information to take in, which may have had something to do with the time deception, or perhaps it was just the focus and concentration on that information that skewed time. By the end of it, I had met some very cool people, and run into a few others that I’d met previously. The other highlight of the month, and part inspiration for the heading, is that I have finished up my ‘temporary’ stint at the café in Kensington that I was working at. The six weeks that turned into a little over two months. So now, I have six day weekends to contend with (which would normally be a cool notion, if the one day a week I am working was going to provide adequate money to live on and enjoy said weekends). Also, related to the café, is the fact that it underwent a sale (OF the business, not WITHIN the business), so the prospect of being called back again, is less likely. New owners, new means of dealing with absent staff. I continue to work on my business idea, but really do need to start putting some actions into gear. All the ideas in the world won’t make it happen unless there is movement behind them. And of course, the obstacle that is impeding me is….. me! I’m thinking too much about little details that I don’t really need to worry about, and thinking about what could happen if I DO need to be thinking about them. And there is fear: probably of both failure AND success. And so there is the wire. I either walk it, or trip it: either way, I have to do SOMETHING.

Quantum DVD Shower

At what point in our timeline (historical, not Facebook!) did we lose this? Did, in fact, we ever have it previously? And if we did, was it a conscious awareness, or something that we possessed and ‘used’ subconsciously, blissfully unaware, and happy? While not the place for all my ‘deeper’ thoughts, I do find that having a hot shower does tend to stimulate the neural function more often than not.

I have just finished watching What the Bleep Do We Know!? It is a film that I’ve been aware of since it was released, but never really got around to seeing when it was doing it’s big screen rounds (art-house, I’m assuming), and even when it was released on DVD. I’ve seen it sitting on the shelf a few times, and at one stage even held it in my hand, thinking about it. Was I not ready for it, at the time, or was it not ready for me?

My interest in this area has been reasonably active for a while, be it the idea of quantum physics/mechanics, the Secret, The Law of Attraction, manifestation, self-regulated life design. When you boil it down, they are really all the same product, just with different packaging. (Well, that’s the way I’ve seen and interpreted it!) I still haven’t read nor watched The Secret, and probably won’t, as it would appear there have been umpteen many people summarising it, or at least saying that it’s not the full story. But then, who knows, maybe one day my curiosity will get the better of me (or maybe it will be ready for me).

But back to my original question: at what point did we ‘lose’ this power/perception/control. To my knowledge and awareness, we discovered we had lost it somewhere in the decadence of the 80s. Was it like walking down the street after being to the movies, a coffee shop, a milk bar, a non-milk bar (no, not soy!), and a book shop, and only then realising that your phone or your keys were missing? Was it a quick pat of the pockets and, “Oh, shit! I’ve mis-placed my quantum ability to design and manifest the life I choose and desire!”? And more to the point, is there really any one person, or people, out there who can really tell us what it is all, truly, about, or is it all just a matter of people’s perception and interpretation (and that could probably be applied to just about any situation where people proclaim to be experts and hold ‘the answer’!) and we just have to find the one that sits comfortably on our shoulders. That jacket that we saw in the catalogue, the one that would have been perfect, but there doesn’t seem to be any in stock, anywhere. 

There are similar jackets the right size but not in the colour we wanted, and the colour we wanted but not quite the right fit.  The jacket we wanted was definitely here, at one stage, but for now it’s gone. Maybe it will turn up in an op-shop one day, but will we recognize it?

Storm Front Coming.....

I’d finished work about an hour or so ago, and had called into Woolies to pick up a few snacky things. I was going to go healthy, and did, but also succumbed to the call of the ice-cream aisle. Said ice-cream was ear-marked to be my accompaniment to a DVD.

As I was riding to work this morning, I looked at the skies and thought that they had that “late summer, thunderstorm” look about them. The atmosphere was also on the warmer side, and indicated that my initial impression was a fair call. Most of the day, however, turned out to be a beautiful, sunny day.

Checking my emails and Facebook, I considered making a juice and sitting on the balcony, drinking and reading, enjoying the remnants of a glorious afternoon. But that, alone, wasn’t enough to motivate me. It wasn't until the rolling peal of thunder, distant, understated, but oh, so very present, that I was impelled to act. Fetching my generic ice-cream (which was surprisingly quite good, and was actually ice-CREAM and not ice-CONFECTION!) and sat on the balcony to watch whatever show was about to unravel.

First there was a mass of dark, grey clouds, progressing evenly and steadily across the skies. They murmured their deep, throaty declarations that, yes, there was a change in the weather about to occur. As they progressed on their travels, there were a few subdued flashes of lightning, not wanting thunder to have all the attention. Their illumination was evident in the way that considered well-positioned down-lighting is: you know it’s there, but it you don’t have to be caught in its halogen-headlight glare to acknowledge it. and then there was the occasional flash that WAS feeling insecure and DID need validation by being more visible and open to acknowledgement.

The lower clouds began to form a misshapen winged keel, reminding me of the special effects of ghouls and evil spirits who have begun to manifest here on earth from the underworld, or some other dimension. Or when the dark liquid mixes with the light liquid of a high tech bomb, set by some megalomaniac trying conquer the world by destroying it. And then that ship sailed.

It was replaced by lighter clouds, and even a daring hint of blue sky. I tried to imagine myself as a painter, contemplating the ratio of black and blue and white acrylic I would need to combine before resulting in just the right shade to give my masterpiece that feel of reality. Strangely enough, it was only at this point that the winds stirred from their slumbering stillness, perhaps the older family member irate at the inappropriateness of the younger generational elements and their need to party noisily. And then came the rain, or heavy drizzle, such that it was. Like the star of a show, putting in its appearance, out of obligation to the show’s backers and the paparazzi, before into the night and mystery of their life! And now….the skies are 80% clear, the almost setting sun does shine, the roads are drying and I’m left thinking, “THAT was the storm???”

Back to Life, Back to Reality

With the early autumn sun shining down from the almost cloudless sky, the strong wind gusting and taunting the now dry washing on the clothes-line, the act of removing the pegs, releasing the clothes and throwing both into the washing basket was more of a reflex, instinctual motion rather than an active and conscious action.

Click, click….whoomp….click, click….whoomp….click, click…..whoomp…

His mind was somewhere in the ether, only a quantum jump from cyber-space, he might have suspected, had he been bothered to contemplate it in the first instance. And like the eddying, random gusts of wind that tugged and whipped at the ever decreasing number of items on the clothes-line, so too were his thoughts: unanchored, random, tangible and yet nothing.

Click, click….whoomp….click, click…..whoomp….click, click….whoomp…

As the line grew lighter and the laundered materials in the basket grew higher, a roar from high above managed to penetrate the almost impregnable walls of concentrated void that filled his mind, and touched upon his consciousness, returning him to the here and now of his current perception of reality.

He looked up.

It took only a few seconds before his eyes locked in on the aeroplane that was gracefully, almost elegantly, circling away from the not too distant airport. Its passage gave rise to the notion that it ran on a well lubricated rail, held suspended by gossamer thin, yet resiliently strong threads, up there in the air, over his head, amongst the lightly scattered clouds. For an instant, he was up there, seated in the great metal tube, his forehead pressed to the window, gazing at the bitumen-stitched patchwork of suburbia below, thankful that he was on the move once again, traveling once more to another somewhere.

As quickly as the buoyancy of his imagination had him rapidly ascending into the atmosphere, the gravity of his reality slapped him in the face and back to his earthly shackle in the form of a t-shirt, flapping, cajoling reminding him of where he really was. For a moment he breathed deeply, savouring the freshness of the wind dried material; it’s naturally acquired solar warmth…..but only for a moment. As he finished gathering in his washing, collecting the pegs and lifting the basket from the ground, another plane, further in the distance, on approach this time, briefly caught his attention, but failed to hold it.

Making his way inside, taking each laborious step one at a time, to his first floor flat, he considered the his longing for flight, for travel, for motion. While there was no denying that he derived immense pleasure and satisfaction in arriving at new destinations and exploring them, alone or with a local ‘connection’ made through the internet, he couldn’t deny that the process and thrill of leaving and returning (so long as he got to leave again), also sent a shiver of excitement through  him. As he inserted the key to his door and crossed the threshold, he acknowledged it was the escape from his reality that he truly enjoyed the most.

He swung the door closed behind him…….and was swallowed, once more, by the void of his life.

I'm on the brink, of.......

Lady Gaga sings about being on the Edge of Glory, and desperate people have been known to talk about the brink of the abyss. I’m somewhere in between, at the moment, with more leanings towards the abyss than glory. It will be interesting to see where it is that I land, should I fall, or if I will be able to design my destiny and take flight!

Last November, the job that I was working at, got to me on a couple of levels, as jobs have the ability to do. Or was it a case that this one was just that proverbial straw, and quite a few previous jobs had started to build up the pressure until this last one just pushed me that little too far? Whichever the case may be, I decided that enough was enough, and I handed my resignation in. This, of itself, isn’t anything unusual. The fact that I had nothing new to go to, is unusual….at least for me.

When I handed my resignation in, giving 5 weeks notice to ensure that there was plenty of time to find my replacement; I thought that I was just going to get a new job and carry on, as per usual. However, after the Christmas break (and when the job I’d just resigned from offered me a few shifts while they found someone…I said one day, no more thanks. I had, after all, resigned for a reason!) it dawned on me that maybe I could get about by getting a couple of part-time jobs. That way, it would keep things interesting for me, and I would still have some control over my work, so I could have more control over my free time. I was very fortunate to pick up some more part-time hours, and so life seemed very good.

Of course, neither of these lasted, and ended a little more abruptly than I was expecting. I was given little to no warning, and in the same week, both connections were terminated by the respective businesses. Now I’m thinking of doing something entrepreneurial, and at the moment I’m recalling a point that Robert Kyiosaki mentioned in a few of his books: how all his friends where saying how he should just get a job when he and his wife found themselves broke when they decided that they were going to be entrepreneurs, and how he said that they didn’t want to get back into the Rat Race. While I’m not in as dire straits as he was, I’m not exactly sitting pretty, either. My heart has tended to beat a little faster and a little heavier the last few days if I think about it too much. It doesn’t mean that I’m ignoring it, I’m just not dwelling on the ‘what ifs’ too long.

I have an idea in mind, which I will need to put into place pretty quick, and then we can see how that goes. If it works, I’ll probably write a 500 about it and let you know how it went.

Wanted: One Year, Part-Time

Wanted: one year, part-time.

This has become the evolution of my intentions for 2012.

As 2011 concluded, so too did my employment. Of itself, this is nothing unusual. The fact that I had nothing else to go to was definitely uncharacteristic of me. It was my choice to leave, and it felt ‘right’ to do so, in both timing and reasoning. And while I wasn’t exactly rolling around in a mountain of $100 notes, I had a small buffer between me, hunger and eviction. (That buffer is definitely smaller at the time of writing.) For some eerie reason, with the bills still needing to be paid and my need to eat ongoing, I’ve been unusually nonplussed about my state of unemployment and lack of income. I’ve applied for a couple of full-time jobs, but my heart just hasn’t been in it.

My former boss has been asking me to work one day a week, until they find a replacement or I find a job, which I’ve started doing. (They’ve been asking if I want more, they’d be happy to accommodate me, but hey, I quit for a reason!) A fellow Grindr user needed someone to fill in a couple of holes in his roster (bite your tongue!). And this morning (2012-01-21) after catching up for breakfast at a local café that I used to work at (just under a different name…the café, not me…and under different owners), the current owner asked if I was looking for some work, just for a few weekends while their chef was away. It was then that I thought, “Maybe I should try working this year on a part-time basis!”

For most of my working life, I’ve always chased the full-time job, mostly because it offered secure, guaranteed income, holiday pay (a great way to save) and sick leave. Also, because it’s what I’ve always done, and I figured that it is better to be able to concentrate on one job rather than having a variety of worries to handle. While it may prove to others of my responsibility and commitment, at my end, I’m hardly in a position that I would consider to be ‘happy’ with my life.  It’s been the cause of me missing out on a great deal of functions and activities, and I have a habit of ‘owning’ my work a little too much.

As I thought about it, working a couple of days, at a couple of jobs, might actually be more beneficial. I wouldn't be tied down to the same routine, and could gain a little more freedom over how I allocated my time. I figured it could also reduce ‘burnout’ working with different people in different environments, rather than being locked into the same one day in, day out. I do realise it could also mean I’m constantly on the lookout for more work, more often, but then hospitality is a transient area to work anyway.

So this year, I’m going to try and work part-time in an effort to live full-time.