An Anniversary To Remember To Forget

Well, today is Wednesday, the 30th of November, 2011.

Today is a day I've been both looking forward to and dreading in equal measure for a while now.  Because I didn't really know or understand just what this day really meant.  And I'm not sure I truly do, even now that I'm here.  But I know it means something.

This has been a really huge year for me, for a number of reasons.  Not only was it my final year of uni (for now) before I head off and begin teacher, but it was also the 21st year of my existence.  Both of these things are huge milestones in anybody's lives (I imagine).  But they've both been overshadowed to a large extent by the journey that began this day last year.

30th November, 2010.  My mother's birthday, of all days.  That was the day when I was first admitted to hospital for my leg.  Obviously that wasn't the first day I was in pain, that had been going on for weeks.  But it was the day I knew that this wasn't just a case of 'soft tissue damage'.  They don't rush transfer you to another hospital for 'soft tissue damage'.

And so began the most challenging period of my (admittedly shortish) life to date.  I can look back on that month in hospital with some sense of rose-tinted glasses, but the lenses are still a bit foggy.  There were times where I broke down - as someone who carries himself stoically (or at least tries to), it's actually a little bit embarrassing to reflect on those moments.  And I know it shouldn't be, I had every right to be upset.  But I guess it's a chink in the armour, and for someone like me that's tough to deal with.

The hardest thing I've ever had to do was try to put on a happy face on Christmas Day because I didn't want to ruin what's supposed to be a joyous occasion for the people I love.  It's tough when you see them sitting in a cramped up hospital room waiting around while you're getting a blood transfusion because you're too damn weak to sit up.  Because even though you know you'd do the same thing for every single one of them without even a hint of hesitation, you don't wanna be the one who ruins Christmas.

Boy this is difficult.

I remember trying to learn to walk again, only to be sent back to square one over and over because they needed to go back in for more surgery.  I remember being in excruciating pain simply trying to shuffle up the bed.  I remember losing 10 kilos off my already slight frame, looking at myself in the mirror and seeing the reflection of a gaunt, pale ghost with long (reddish) hair.  I remember memorising the meal menus because I'd been in there for so damn long.  I remember having a permanent IV line implanted in my arm because I needed constant intravenous antibiotics which were dispelled for a weird device that looked like a used condom inside of a baby bottle.  I remember being so thankful that it was cricket season, because most of the time I at least had something to watch.  I remember fainting in the foyer of the hospital as I was being 'discharged' for the first time (before returning 2 days later because things had actually gotten worse).  Luckily I can look back and laugh at that last one.

As hard as it was to go home, I was just so happy to be out of that place.  And it got easier and easier as time went on.  I became proficient on crutches, and developed a bunch of systems for getting around the house, up and down stairs, and just generally existing.

(It looks much cooler when she uses them)

And then finally it came time to go back to uni.  And I had no idea whether or not I was actually going to be ready in time to get back.  But somehow, the universe aligned itself in a way that all of my downtime this year happened on uni holidays.

I don't know if it was because I had more time on my hands, what with not being able to work, or if I just had greater focus this year because the units interested me, but this was the best year of uni I had (academically speaking).  And it was just so reassuring to know that, at least my mind hadn't fallen apart with my body.

I had setbacks during the year.  Not the least of which included fracturing my leg while on prac (without realising it was fractured until I had bone grafting surgery 2 weeks later).  But from January 1st, I generally found myself charting a more positive trajectory, to get to the point where I am now.  I may not be able to run, or bend my knee past 90-100 degrees.  But just under a year ago I couldn't bend my knee past 30 degrees, or even sit up straight without passing out.

It's funny, looking back now, I can remember some of the things I achieved before this all happened.  Like my previous blog talking about cricket, for example.  I still remember this stuff, but I don't recall what it 'felt' like.  The only image of myself that I have now is the one I know today, and everything that happened in the 20 or so years leading up to last year is basically a distant blur.  More than being physically crippled, I think it's that disconnect from my 'self' that's been the hardest thing to deal with.

I can't help but feel like this whole experience has changed me profoundly as a person.  And I'd like to think for the better, if only because it's comforting to think that I can take something positive from this experience.  I actually think I've learned to become a more patient, accepting, kind, generous and generally more mature person over the past year.  And I've actually got ample evidence to support that assertion, both anecdotal and concrete.  And I definitely think I'm more resilient: I'd have to be, really.  And whether or not these changes would have occurred without me becoming a cripple, I'll never really know.  But they did happen, and that's for the better.  And now this is where I stand.

Gosh, I know it's lame, but even being able to say "this is where I stand", and know that I can actually accomplish that is something I wasn't sure I'd be able to do just a year ago.  And in truth, I don't know for certain what the future holds.  Reading up on the disease, it actually seems quite possible that there could be recurrences or further complications.  But I don't take for granted the stuff that I can do now.  I still get a rush when I walk down the steep hill of my driveway to collect the mail, because I still remember when that seemed like an impossibility.

And I also don't take for granted the amazing people I have in my life.  The friends who sent me well-wishes over text or Facebook or whatever, because that's what we do these days.  Or the friends who came up to visit me and give me Donkey Kong and some Kit-Kats.  But most importantly, the family who stayed with me every day, or who drove through a fucking cyclone to be with me on Christmas Day.  The dad who would bring me some treat (usually white chocolate) and soft drink every day after work because he knew how much I loved them.  And the mum who dropped everything for most of the year just to get me through.  Because that's what families do.  I kinda wish we celebrated Thanksgiving in Australia, because I know exactly what I have to be thankful for.

Yeah, today definitely means something.  But then again, so does tomorrow.

Sports Metaphors and Their Usefulness

I love a good sports metaphor.  Then again, that's probably because I love sports (though I mainly watch rather than play nowadays, for obvious reasons).  I'll watch any sport actually: I'm just as content with Darts or Billiards on my TV as I am with Footy or Cricket (obviously I'm stretching the definition of sports by including Darts... but hey, it's on Fox Sports, so it must count right!).

So yeah, it's natural that I would enjoy analogies that refer to sport.  Especially the really cliché, completely generalised ones.  I would list some here, but I'll save you the groans and cringes.  Besides, I think it's best for you to come up with your own.  Don't be so goddamn lazy and let me feed you everything, participate!  

I think they work because there are so many parallels between success in sport and success in life: it takes commitment, courage, strength, focus and resilience (and a little bit of luck) to do well in sport.  And really, the same is true of our everyday lives.

You're probably wondering: "Hey Jeffrey, that's great and all, but what exactly brought this about?"  That's a good question, anonymous invisible person.  Let me explain.

I was reminiscing earlier about one of my greatest sporting achievements of my youth, and it struck me how strong a message I could derive from my experience.  Thinking about it, I felt oddly like the inspirational coach in a terrible sports movie who teaches the small-town boy with a big dream some important life lessons through his wisdom and experience.  Let me share with you my story, you bright-eyed little kid with a dream.

I played Cricket when I was younger.  I don't wanna brag, but within the ranks of Innisfail Junior Under 16's, I was pretty near the top of the pile in terms of bowling ability.  I would always open the bowling, was always economical, and took a whole bunch of wickets.  I was a feared presence, at least I think I was: I would have been afraid of facing me (what with my long, flowing gold locks being held back by my completely awkward bandana which was adorned in some strange Japanese paraphernalia: probably Mario).

Anyway, the point is, I was good.  And I knew it, but I was never cocky about it.  The problem I had was, I knew I was good at this part of the game, so I only focussed on developing my bowling.  I enjoyed batting, but never really took it seriously: I'd only go out for a tonk, and proudly considered myself a genuine Number 11.

The next season when we started playing, one of our opening batsman had graduated up into the senior ranks, leaving a position open at the top of the order.  Our coach asked the group if anybody wanted to try and open the batting.  One would have assumed that perhaps those who batted at 3/4 would like to step up, but they actually preferred those positions.

I still don't remember exactly why I did it, but I put my hand up.  And everybody seemed happy to let me have a go.  I don't think anybody expected me to do very well (including myself), but they were happy to let me go out and face the new ball if it meant they didn't have to.

That day ended up being the start of an amazing run of form for myself.  I was still opening the bowling, and rarely giving away any runs (though wickets were a little harder to come by: it seemed that I would tie up an end, and the guy bowling at the other end picked up all the wickets).  But now I had an extra responsibility in opening the batting, and to my surprise, I flourished.  

Over the course of the season, I believe I only got out a total of 3 times (can't remember how many games total).  I would, on most occasions, bat through my allotted batting limit of 40 balls (to make sure everybody got a bat), and I scored at a reasonably impressive rate.  I was the anchor at the top of the order, providing stability and guidance to those around me.  As I started to get some results in batting, my mindset changed. I started to see myself as not just an opening bowler, but an opening batsman: a complete cricketer.  More than the fact that I scored runs, I think it was this change in mindset that was the biggest boon for me, because it changed the way I approached the game.  I finished the season with a Michael Hussey-esque average of over 50, and our team won the comp (off a stumping which I pulled off: sometimes I kept wickets as well).

Which brings me back to the sports metaphors.  For me, this experience proved to me that you can't simply pigeonhole yourself as something (or, importantly, as NOT-something).  You have to give yourself a chance to succeed before you decide that you've failed.

Think about that for a second: 

You have to give yourself a chance to succeed before you decide that you've failed.

That's powerful stuff right there.

I could well have done poorly opening the batting, returned to being a number 11, and I wouldn't have lost anything from the experience.  Instead, by putting myself in that position, I grew, and I thrived, and I became even better than I ever thought I could be.  I gave myself the opportunity to succeed.  And I guess it goes back to the idea of my Reality Distortion Field.  Once I got that glimmer of belief in myself, that I could do this, well: the rest was history.

In conclusion, I was an amazing cricketer, this was a giant brag session, and sports metaphors are great.  Cue cheesy montage!

"And How Do You Feel About That"

Let's talk.

Over the past few months, I've become a little bit obsessed with a television show called 'In Treatment'.  It's basically a window into psychology sessions, where you observe a patient and their shrink discuss... well, whatever is going in that character's life.  It is fiction, but the show is made to look at realistic as possible: episodes are 30 minutes long to reflect approximate length of a session, and the camera work is minimalistic in order to keep the focus on the characters, not the production values.

(This is the therapist.  He's got an awesome Irish accent)

I wholeheartedly recommend the show to anybody: it's absolutely thrilling viewing.  It's got such an intimate atmosphere, and the characters have an authenticity and emotional depth that you just don't usually see on television (or movies, for that matter).

Basically, watching this show has caused me to begin to play the role of psychologist in my own life.  I've always been fascinated by people, their behaviour, their interactions, but generally I'm pretty oblivious to most things that go on around me.  No, really: I'm always the last person to know about things that go on in my circles of friends, because I just don't notice these things.

Recently, I've made more of an effort to consciously observe people around me, and I actually think I've got a knack for this business.  It's not like it's some advanced science or anything like that: we're all humans, so we kinda all have the basic frame of reference to see this stuff.

It's amazing how much you can learn by just listening, and watching.  We process such a huge amount of information at every moment of our lives, it's easy to understand why we gloss over potentially important details.  I guess what I've learned is that it's possible to harness your focus, to pay attention to particular details and analyse what goes on behind what you see.  To put on horse blinkers, I guess.

But as the saying goes, "With great power comes great responsibility".  And so it is with my newly acquired ability to see into peoples souls.  Because I feel like I've suddenly become so much more aware of things, and now it's a matter of deciding exactly what information should be shared, and what tidbits should be kept to myself.

Some of you may read this and laugh.  You're probably thinking, "Geez Jeffrey, way to toot your own horn.  You're probably not even that good at observing stuff".

To you I say, you're wrong.  Given my prior history of social interactions, it's probably hard to believe, but I'm actually very good.  Scarily good.  Like, some of my insights have been frightfully pointed and accurate.  I could probably get some people to attest to that fact, but I won't, because I care about doctor/patient confidentiality.

So, in the meantime, I continue to silently ply my trade.  Deciding what tidbits need to be shared, and what needs to be locked away in my mental safe.  

And I guess, to those of you reading this, here's my message:  I charge a nominal rate, and I'm now making my services available to the public.

Let's make an appointment.

No Pressure

So, something has come to my attention just in the last couple of days.  And I must say, I was quite shocked when I found this out.

Apparently, there are actually (real!) people out there who read this blog.  I know: I didn't believe it either!  (Wait... who am I talking to?  The people who I didn't think read this before, or the people who I now know DO read this... now I'm just confusing myself).

It's funny, because (for those who don't know) Blogger actually supplies you with a whole bunch of statistics about who reads your blogs.  Not personal information or anything like that: I don't know WHO it is that reads it, but I know what days/times SOMEBODY reads it, and I also know the country that you live.  And before you ask, yes, I have had people in strange countries read my stuff... I'm pretty sure the U.S.A and Columbia have definitely been graced with my literary gifts.  It even tells me the site you linked from (for the record: linking to Facebook is apparently a good idea if you want people to see stuff).

But, despite all that, I didn't actually make the connection that, yes... there are people behind those sets of numbers.  People I know, presumably.  And that, by writing these boring, mundane, not-at-all-interesting-to-anybody-but-me blogs, I'm giving these people a window into my.... mind?

Let me make something clear.  I don't write this for you.  Yeah, that's right, you.  I see you there!  You with your little creeper binoculars in the bushes.  That camo suit isn't working quite so well for ya!

But seriously, I genuinely only write any of this down because it feels good for me.  Even when I'm 'talking' to another figure in my writing, it's for my own purposes.  Except, arguably, for this post... but that doesn't really matter.  In my mind, 'you' don't really exist... you're an imaginary audience that I fabricate in order to justify this whole exercise to myself.

I think that writing is one of the most... (shall we say) 'noble' endeavours that we can undertake.  And when I say 'we', I actually mean 'me', not humans collectively.  Not that all humans shouldn't write: they should, I just don't wanna be prescriptive about it.  But yes, writing for me is something I value greatly, and something (until recently) I had not done nearly enough of.

You see, this year I feel I've developed into a more sophisticated and introspective person, and with that comes a greater understanding of what I want to get out of life.  Keen observers out there might suggest that my run of illnesses caused me to reevaluate my life up till now, and where it was heading in the future: to you I say, stop being a goddamn backseat psychologist and pay attention.

No, I don't think the fact I spent a great deal of the year on my ass had anything to do with my personal development.  I think it had more to do with this being the final year of studying to be a teacher (note: not final year of study.  I will return!).

I had the pleasure of being taught/mentored by an amazing educator and person, whom I shall not name.  Actually, no, I'll give her a fake name... let's call her, Prish.  And very early in the year, she made what has turned out to be a very important statement, one that has stuck with me.  She said, (something along the lines of...) "You have to nurture the artist within you"

Now, this statement was made in the context of the teaching profession, and how it's important as an Arts teacher to not lose your own sense of artistry.  But for me, it really resonated beyond that context, as a philosophy for life.

I'm not going to pontificate too much about 'the meaning of life'.  I'm not so deluded as to believe that, if indeed there is one single 'meaning', that I happen to be the one to know it.  But I do believe that we all have to find our own sense of meaning: why are we here (again, not 'we' as a collective: 'we' as in 'me').

I believe that Art, in all it's various forms, is the search for understanding, for clarity, for beauty.  That statement applies to both the creation and consumption of artistic work.  We make art to express our own sense of understanding of our world, and to make our own beauty.  We engage with art because it contributes to the growing nebulous of our self.

So, naturally, this is why I find writing so 'noble'.  It's one of the art-forms that is accessible to me: I can't paint, I can't sing, I can't dance (ESPECIALLY dance).  But I have two hands, a brain, and a keyboard, and by golly, I can connect those elements to do.... well, this.

And that's why I do it.  Not just because it's self-serving drivel meant to stroke my ego.  Not because I want to entertain or enlighten anybody about anything in particular.  

It's one way I can make my own beauty.

I leave you with this quote:

An artist cannot fail; it is a success to be one.
Charles Horton Cooley 

Playing The Game

I started this blog post, without any idea what I intended to write about, by coming up with the title.  'Playing The Game'.

I like to start things with simple phrases.  I know I have a tendency to delve into extended, lengthy, wordy drivel, so it's important for me to establish the goal of simplifying my communication.  It probably stems a little bit from my interest in advertising: simple messages enhance the communication of a message.

So, what do you do if you don't actually have a message, but just a statement?

Make one up, I guess.

In fact, I'll go one better: I'll make TWO up.

Message One - Searching for Jobs

I'm currently in the process of applying for numerous jobs, with the hope of being employed (preferably on a full-time basis) next year.  And it's occurred to me that the whole process is very much like playing a giant board game: each application is a roll of the dice, and you never really know when you're gonna land on Mayfair.

There's an uncertainty and anxiousness to the process which isn't exactly attractive.  At some point, you start to realise that your future is completely out of your hands, and you have no idea what you're going to be doing with your life over the next few months.  Will I have to move?  Will I get a job doing what I want to do?  Will I get a job at all?

But despite all that, I'm having an absolute ball.  Don't get me wrong, I'll be stoked when it's all over and I get the giant employment tick.  Over the moon, I'll be.  But a part of me (a large part, in fact) is enjoying the process.  Because I enjoy playing the game.

Think about a game of Monopoly.  I referred to getting a job as landing on Mayfair earlier, and yes, that is indeed a joyous moment in any family board game night.  But that doesn't mean the rest of the game is meaningless or devoid of fun.  Will somebody land on Chance or Community Chest?  How about rolling doubles?  Who just got sent to jail!  Ahhh yes, I'll place a hotel there.

This analogy doesn't necessarily extend naturally to all aspects of my current job search (for example, I'm not sure what the equivalent of being 'sent to jail' is... maybe losing a Blue Card?  In any case, I don't want to find out).  But the basic point still stands: the journey is just as important as the destination.  Well, maybe not 'important'... but certainly enjoyable.

Message Two - Vidyagames

I think that people have the impression that I play video games a lot.  It's probably got something to do with the clothes that I wear, the fact that my text message tone is the healing jingle from Pokemon, the fact that I have the physique of a stereotypical nerd... I dunno, a whole bunch of factors must contribute to that image.  Or maybe I'm wrong: maybe people don't think that at all.  But I think I'm right.

Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on your perspective), that's just not the case at all.

I am, very much, a fan of video games.  As a medium.  As a form of artistic expression.  I think there lies such great potential in video games as a contemporary art form, which is directly related to the interactive nature of the experience.  The potential for individual or user-generated narrative experiences appeals to me, and is something I'm interested in exploring within my profession.

The problem, for me, is that my 'enjoyment' of video games is more theoretical than practical.  As ridiculous as this sounds, I prefer THINKING about video games (in terms of design, structure, characters, narrative, user interface, etc.) than I actually do PLAYING them.

It wasn't always this way.  I remember logging countless hours on various games when I was younger (and even more recently).  Whether it was terrible games like Shane Warne Cricket 99', or amazing games like Super Mario World or Pokemon Crystal, I didn't have a problem planting myself in front of a screen and pressing some buttons.

But more and more, I find that my time to play games has diminished to the point of being nearly non-existant (unless a new Pokemon game comes out, of course... in which case I MAKE TIME DAMNIT).  And it's not just I don't have time: I lack the DESIRE.  I can't get motivated to begin games anymore.  And I could NEVER motivate myself to finish games, which leaves me in a strange place, where I have a whole bunch of unfinished games which I don't want to return to, and no desire to begin any new ones which I will inevitably stop playing.

I've probably moved slightly away from my original message: this reads more like 'Not Playing The Game'.  

But that's OK too.

Place

Yesterday was the last day of my final teaching prac, and subsequently the end of my uni degree (for now, anyway).  And as I walked out of school for the last time, and I looked over my shoulder for one last glance, I was struck by a strange but welcome feeling.

I belong here.

It's not that I've never felt like I belonged before.  Far from it: I'd find it harder to find a time in my life where I felt ostracised than a time where I was welcomed and fit in.  But this was one of those moments that was affecting because it was such a sudden realisation.

I'm doing the right thing.

This was a multi-pronged sense of belonging.  I didn't just feel like I was a 'teacher', I felt like I was part of a community (obviously the school).  And that even though I won't be working there next year, that I would always be welcome at that place, and that maybe I even gave something to that place.

So now I look to the future I guess.  Will I get a job?  Where will I go?  The answer to the first question is important: the second not so much anymore.  Because I know, wherever I go, I'm on the right track.

A Cosmetic Change

I've made a decision to change.

This isn't a big, life-altering change which has massive repercussions or anything like that.  In the grand scheme of things (if there is such a scheme, that is), it's not a big deal.  In the small scheme of things it probably doesn't even rate as a blip.  But it's a change, nonetheless.

I probably won't actually stick to it.  I'll more than likely decide it's a stupid idea and give up on it very quickly.  If it does actually happen, it won't be fully implemented for a while yet.

So, with all that said, here it is.  My big change.

I'm going to create a self-imposed uniform wardrobe on myself.

Yes, that's right.  Once again I'm taking inspiration from Steve Jobs (this is becoming a theme: I imagine this will end once I finally finish this biography).  Like Steve, I'm going to endeavour to come up with a 'signature style'.  A combination of clothing that is synonymous with me and my identity.

Let me be clear: I don't intend to copy/emulate Steve's uniform exactly.  I doubt I'd do very well in a turtleneck.  But the idea of having a regimented outfit appeals to me greatly on a number of levels.  Philosophically, Pragmatically, Aesthetically.

As Steve would say: 'It Just Works'.

So, this is my non-binding commitment to this change.  I intend to spend a few months in the research and development phase, surveying a range of clothing options and beginning to narrow down my choices.  From there, I expect to undertake a rigorous consultation process, where I get opinions from those whose perspectives I value.  And then, I guess the next step would be a trial run.  After that, well... the last step would be a bulk buy, and the rest, as they say, would be history.

At this stage I've got a few concerns/problems that will prove to be challenging to overcome.  Firstly, finding an outfit that is suitable in a range of settings.  Making sure this outfit is something that I can wear to work, or when I'm out shopping, or eating at a restaurant, is going to be a challenge.  The other issue will be finding a combination of clothes that suit all seasons: will this work as a summer and winter ensemble?  This is what I need to think about.

But for now, the search begins.