Relax. Get in your comfy chair, grab a drink, and let me tell you a story.
A 22 year-old man had a job interview. It was at 9:30 am at the Direct Factory Outlet (colloquially referred to as the DFO) near the airport. The address of this factory outlet was 1 Airport Drive. Researching on the internet the night before his interview, he discovered that a bus departed from an interchange near his house that would take him directly to the DFO. This seemed too easy.
Instead of taking the bus, the young man took a train to the interview and hoped to find the DFO by asking around or by seeing it looming before him as soon as he stepped off the train. He didn't have a plan, really. He just knew that it was at the airport so it should be a cinch to find. However, in the deep recesses of his brain, he must have known there was going to be difficulties, so he took the train very early to arrive at the airport at 8:30, one hour before the scheduled time of the interview. The train to the airport was $13. With his bus pass, the bus ride would have been free. This upsetted him mildly, but probably not as much as it should have.
He decided not to get off the train at the International airport stop. He had arrived in this new country at the International airport and did not remember seeing a large mall. The fact that he did not remember any of his surroundings from the airport that day did not make him question his reasoning. He stayed on the train until it stopped at the Domestic airport.
He did not see the DFO anywhere. In fact, all he saw was the Domestic airport. How logical, he thought. He went to a desk to ask an employee the location of the DFO. She informed him that it was "just past the International airport."
"So how long would it take me to walk there?" he asked.
"Oh, you couldn't walk there. It's quite a distance," she informed him.
He then walked to the transportation desk to inquire if a bus would take him to the DFO. The woman working there informed him that only a taxi could take him there, as no buses went to the city from the airport. He was briefly alarmed that she referred to the DFO's location as "in the city", but again, probably not as alarmed as he should have been.
It was at this time that he decided he had already paid too much money taking the train to get to the airport and he was not going to waste any more money taking a taxi. No, he decided. He was going to walk. He had about 55 minutes to spare and he was well aware of how much distance one could travel in 55 minutes. Even with his shin splints, bad back, sore hips, and other general ailments that a normal 22 year old should not have, he knew he could walk at a fairly rapid pace. And off he went.
It took him a half hour just to walk back to the International airport. The simple truth is that airports take up a lot of land. This may not shock some of you, and it didn't shock this man either; he simply did not really stop to think about it. And so he trudged onward, mentally calculating the area in square kilometres that this particular airport probably occupied. He did not think long enough to come up with a final figure, for it finally dawned on him why this walk seemed slightly frightening. The fact is that he was walking on the shoulder of a two-laned highway. No man or woman was meant to walk to the DFO from the airport. Yet he plowed onward.
It began to rain while he walked. It was also 25 degrees celsius. His shirt clung to him under the influence of perspiration and rain. Cars zoomed by him at a dizzying pace but he stayed to the far left end of the shoulder, giving himself plenty of separation from the road (cars drive on the left side in this strange land). His feet ached from the shoes he was wearing. They were his roommate's shoes and they were one size too small. You see, he was in a strange new land, and he had not packed his fancy shoes. Thus, he needed to borrow.
One hour passed and he still saw no sight of the DFO. He began to think how hilarious this situation had become. He did not dare count the numerous errors he had made so far on his journey, for that would only serve to depress him. He just concluded that he was not going to make this interview and also surmised that he probably was never going to find a job in this foreign land. But he kept trudging on. Now his thoughts were shifting from "Where is the DFO?" to "How do I get back to the city and away from this highway to significantly reduce my chances of being an innocent bystander in a highway accident?"
Then the shoulder abruptly stopped. There was construction and consequently nowhere left for him to walk on the side of the road. He briefly contemplated hitchhiking, as the citizens of this foreign land were very friendly and he thought it would be worth a shot. He thought the better of it. Instead, he turned around and searched for the nearest side street away from the highway.
Now his thoughts were focused squarely on how to get back to the city. He knew he was too late for his interview. Although he had no means of telling the time (he did not wear a watch and did not own a cell phone), he knew he had been walking for at least an hour. He walked down the side street and then -magically- there it was. The DFO stood before him. He deliberated whether it was even worth going, as no employer ever gives the job to someone who shows up late for the interview.
However, he had no idea how to get home from where he was and he had come all this way so he decided it was in his best interests to at least show up. He walked into the gigantic outlet and spent ten minutes trying to find the store at which he had the interview.
He walked into the store and addressed the manager. He looked at a clock on the wall. It was 9:50 am. He had been walking for one hour and twenty minutes. He was also twenty minutes late. He apologized profusely for his tardiness and said that he would still love to have the interview, if the manager had time.
Then a funny thing happened. The manager understood completely. She spoke with him for a half hour and then gave him the job. She gave the job to a man who showed up twenty minutes late drenched in sweat and rain! The man was ecstatic, especially because he had been looking for a job for quite some time. After the interview, the man caught a bus back home from the DFO and it took him only 20 minutes. But I would be remiss if I did not tell you that the bus picked him up, then drove around a block and stopped at the exact same stop at which it had just picked him up. For a moment he felt he may have been trapped in a dream. If he had an acid habit, there is no doubt there would have been a freakout on that bus.
And that may sound like a funny little story, my friends, but it actually happened to a real person. And do you know who it happened to?
That's right. Former President Bill Clinton.
No, it happened to me today. It was a fun little adventure all around, and I am happy that it turned out the way that it did. The only downside is that I was hoping this conversation would happen.
Manager: So, will you have any trouble getting here for shifts?"
Me: "Oh no, I actually live very close to the airport."
Manager: "Oh really? Whereabouts do you live?"
Me: "Have you seen the movie Terminal?"
Alas, this conversation never took place. But, as the old adage goes, an arbitrary Tom Hanks film reference a day is the key to happiness. With this in mind, I will keep trying to find a way to get a little Tom Hanks in my life.
Thanks for reading about a day in the life of this 22 year-old man in a strange land. I hope you are all happy and prosperous.
By the way, my roommate has pictures up on her website, audreygirard.com. I don't think she would mind if you went there and had a look around. There are some pictures of me, as well as some nice scenery shots.
Take care,
D.J. 'the employed one' Demers
(I'm working on a better nickname)
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Saturday, March 22, 2008
Top of the W
Oh you're still here?
Hello my friends. I know it has been over a week since I last updated you on what is going on in my life. How you functioned in the interim, I am not sure. I praise you for trudging through life without knowing what has become of me. You exemplify true courage, each and every one of you.
So what has become of me? Let's just say life is fantastic. I saw a Queenland license plate the other day that summed up my experiences recently. You know how an Ontario license plate will have your license plate number and at the bottom it will say something like 'Ontario: Yours to Discover'? Well this license plate had this written at the bottom: 'Relax, it's Queensland.' I couldn't have said it any better myself. The time I have spent here in Brisbane, Queensland, Australia has truly been the epitome of relaxation. The only thing that slightly bothers me is that I still have not found a job yet, and it isn't for lack of trying. But I should stress that this only slightly bothers me.
On my first day of orientation, the international co-ordinator at my university explained the 'W' path that you will follow when you travel to a foreign country for an extended period of time. This is the essence of the 'W': When you first realize you are going to be travelling to a new and exotic country, you are at the first peak of the W. When you travel to the foreign country, you will go down in the first valley of the W for an undetermined amount of time as you adjust to the new culture and the feeling of being away from your loved ones. Then you will hit the middle peak of the W as you become totally acclimated to the new country, meet great friends, and have some great fun. Then you will hit another valley when you head back to your native land and face the daunting task of re-adjusting to your once familiar surroundings. Finally, you hit the last peak of the W when you have fully adjusted back to your country of origin.
As it stands now, I am can say with some confidence I am at the middle peak. Not only have I forged some amazing friendships with other exchange students, but I have also recently begun hanging out with some Australians. And really, that is half the reason I came to Australia. When you are around Aussies, you are totally immersed in the culture and it is quite a fun experience. I won't lie to you, between their crazy accents and my hearing impairment, I only understand about 4.2% of what they are actually saying. But the other 95.8% of the time, I respond with a standard "bugger off, mate" and everyone is satisfied. (I feel I must stress I am only joking about the 4.2%, but it does require concentration on my part to catch everything they say.)
This past Wednesday, I attended the Wilco concert I have been looking forward to for quite a long time. I think I may have mentioned it already. It did not disappoint in one single area. That band is beyond reproach. Their live performance was an otherworldly experience. Every song had so much depth. Every member of the band is so ridiculously talented at their respective instruments, but they don't make convoluted elitist music to show off each of their talents (I'm looking at you, Mars Volta). Instead, Wilco just puts together a solid rhythmic rock and roll song with some amazing rock out solos. Furthermore, the lead singer, Jeff Tweedy, was far more charismatic and engaging between songs than I imagined he would be. They don't take themselves too seriously. The only thing they take seriously is pleasing the fans. Also, the venue they were playing at, the Tivoli, was phenomenal. Basically, the whole concert was an 11 out of 10 in my mind. I hate to get excited for events because it just leaves the door open for disappointment. But this show eclipsed my high expectations and elevated my love for Wilco to a possibly unhealthy level.
Here are a couple links of them performing live. If you don't like them, I guess you are entitled to your opinion. But I would prefer if you didn't read my blog again. Probably don't bother calling me when I get home either. Thanks.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1j2k47bXrgs&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dj18x8zRdOo
And for those who like a good 12 minute rock out, here is the song for you!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GKEUrA_K-30&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fpiyxi8GW7k&feature=related
(Seriously, I just watched those links and I got excited about that concert all over again. Screw it, I'm saying it. It was my favourite concert of all time.)
On Thursday, I had a job interview at a ski and snowboard shop about 40 minutes from my house. (A snow shop in Australia? I know it sounds odd. All of their clientele are either travelling to Canada, Europe, or the mountains in New Zealand or south of Australia during the winter.) In order to get the interview, I said that I ski and snowboard regularly in Canada. I don't think I was lying. 'Regularly' is such an ambiguous term, really. I used to ski as a child, although I haven't done it in 4 or 5 years. And I tried snowboarding once, but I called it an early day when I got a concussion. The interview went well, in my mind, but they have eight other people to interview, so we shall see.
Yesterday, I went to Mooloolaba on the Sunshine Coast. (It is ridiculously difficult to remember all the names of cities and beaches because they all sound like a word I may have made up when I was five. Examples are the aforementioned Mooloolaba, Tangalooma, Coolangatta, etc. With that being said, they are really fun to say once you remember them.) I went there with Audrey and Jessie, my French roommate and American friend respectively, and 4 Aussies. It was a sweet beach. The waves were not as big as Surfer's Paradise, but it wasn't as commercialized either. I tried jet-skiing for the first time in my life. I was only on the back, not riding it, but it was still a wicked time. The drive back from the beach was beautiful, as we just drove for miles and miles with nothing but trees on either side of us, with rolling hills in the distance. Australia is a lot like Canada in that there are heavily populated regions, but you can also drive through the country and not see anything but nature on either side of the road.
I couldn't help but think during this drive how perfect life is. After a beautiful day at the beach, driving in the car with great people with great music playing, you can't help but appreciate how amazing life can be. I know it was Good Friday and you are supposed to be practicing your religion and not spending a day at the beach. However, in my mind's eye, appreciating a beautiful beach and the companionship of great people is quite an appropriate way of appreciating God. I may be wrong, I may be right. It's just how I feel.
When I returned home from the beach at 5:30, I had an email from my Aussie friend Scott inviting me to play poker with him and his Aussie mates. I eagerly accepted and by 7 pm I was in the company of 4 Aussies ready to play some poker. It was the first time I have hung out with just Aussies and it was a really fun time. Canadians and Australians just get along together. Our cultures are just so similar that it is impossible not to get along.
I did not win the game. I caught a flush on the flop and someone raised me an exorbitant amount. I raised All-In. He called. He had three of a kind. He caught a fourth on the river. Four of a kind beats the flush. Damn. But I did not even care. I smoked cigars, drank some bourbon, and watched the Broncos game on television. It was a kick-ass time. The Brisbane Broncos were playing Sydney, and one of the guys I was playing poker with was wearing a Sydney jersey instead of a Brisbane jersey. He cheered for Sydney because he did not want to cheer for the Broncos just like everyone else. I identified with this. I cheer for the Senators over the Leafs because, well, they actually have a good team. I also identified with how much he got chirped the whole game. Unlike the Leafs, though, the Broncos ultimately prevailed.
My love affair with rugby is growing, by the way. I am learning the distinctions between the three different leagues that are popular in Australia: League, Union, and Aussie Rules. Next Friday, I am going to attend the Broncos game. I am super pumped about that. The rules are pretty similar to NFL, with three differences that make it (gasp!) better than the NFL. Here are the three main differences. One, you have to touch the ball down in the end zone, not just cross the goal line (this makes it much more interesting, as a player can get drilled before he has the chance to touch the ball down). Two, there is no stoppage after a player is tackled. If he did not fumble when he was tackled, then he simply kicks the ball back to his teammate and play continues. Three, they don't wear equipment. It boggles my mind everytime I see these massive bodies collide at high speed. The only advantage the NFL has over rugby is the potential for amazing downfield throws and catches. But this does not come close to overcoming the advantages that rugby has. Seriously, if you learn the rules of rugby, you will be a fan. Trust me.
I am going to wrap it up. I must once again say that I appreciate you reading this. I know I tend to write a novel each time and I am thankful that you take time out of your day to read this. All three of you. I must give a shout out to Susan, who I know reads regularly. Thank you for being my blog's biggest fan. haha
And although they will not be reading this now, I want to wish my Mama and Rick a fun vacation, as they going golfing in Myrtle Beach for a couple of weeks. Luh ya Ma.
Important Alert: Chris has just booked a flight to Australia for the end of April, the same time Ash comes. That means that as of now, Ash, Sean, and Chris are all coming to visit me in the Land Down Under. I couldn't have expected that when I first came here. That is amazing.
Thanks guys. I hope you all have a wonderful Easter. It is my first Easter I will not be with my family, but I love you guys. I'll eat a great Easter meal while thinking of you!*
* great Easter meal may or may not consist of bread and peanut butter
Hello my friends. I know it has been over a week since I last updated you on what is going on in my life. How you functioned in the interim, I am not sure. I praise you for trudging through life without knowing what has become of me. You exemplify true courage, each and every one of you.
So what has become of me? Let's just say life is fantastic. I saw a Queenland license plate the other day that summed up my experiences recently. You know how an Ontario license plate will have your license plate number and at the bottom it will say something like 'Ontario: Yours to Discover'? Well this license plate had this written at the bottom: 'Relax, it's Queensland.' I couldn't have said it any better myself. The time I have spent here in Brisbane, Queensland, Australia has truly been the epitome of relaxation. The only thing that slightly bothers me is that I still have not found a job yet, and it isn't for lack of trying. But I should stress that this only slightly bothers me.
On my first day of orientation, the international co-ordinator at my university explained the 'W' path that you will follow when you travel to a foreign country for an extended period of time. This is the essence of the 'W': When you first realize you are going to be travelling to a new and exotic country, you are at the first peak of the W. When you travel to the foreign country, you will go down in the first valley of the W for an undetermined amount of time as you adjust to the new culture and the feeling of being away from your loved ones. Then you will hit the middle peak of the W as you become totally acclimated to the new country, meet great friends, and have some great fun. Then you will hit another valley when you head back to your native land and face the daunting task of re-adjusting to your once familiar surroundings. Finally, you hit the last peak of the W when you have fully adjusted back to your country of origin.
As it stands now, I am can say with some confidence I am at the middle peak. Not only have I forged some amazing friendships with other exchange students, but I have also recently begun hanging out with some Australians. And really, that is half the reason I came to Australia. When you are around Aussies, you are totally immersed in the culture and it is quite a fun experience. I won't lie to you, between their crazy accents and my hearing impairment, I only understand about 4.2% of what they are actually saying. But the other 95.8% of the time, I respond with a standard "bugger off, mate" and everyone is satisfied. (I feel I must stress I am only joking about the 4.2%, but it does require concentration on my part to catch everything they say.)
This past Wednesday, I attended the Wilco concert I have been looking forward to for quite a long time. I think I may have mentioned it already. It did not disappoint in one single area. That band is beyond reproach. Their live performance was an otherworldly experience. Every song had so much depth. Every member of the band is so ridiculously talented at their respective instruments, but they don't make convoluted elitist music to show off each of their talents (I'm looking at you, Mars Volta). Instead, Wilco just puts together a solid rhythmic rock and roll song with some amazing rock out solos. Furthermore, the lead singer, Jeff Tweedy, was far more charismatic and engaging between songs than I imagined he would be. They don't take themselves too seriously. The only thing they take seriously is pleasing the fans. Also, the venue they were playing at, the Tivoli, was phenomenal. Basically, the whole concert was an 11 out of 10 in my mind. I hate to get excited for events because it just leaves the door open for disappointment. But this show eclipsed my high expectations and elevated my love for Wilco to a possibly unhealthy level.
Here are a couple links of them performing live. If you don't like them, I guess you are entitled to your opinion. But I would prefer if you didn't read my blog again. Probably don't bother calling me when I get home either. Thanks.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1j2k47bXrgs&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dj18x8zRdOo
And for those who like a good 12 minute rock out, here is the song for you!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GKEUrA_K-30&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fpiyxi8GW7k&feature=related
(Seriously, I just watched those links and I got excited about that concert all over again. Screw it, I'm saying it. It was my favourite concert of all time.)
On Thursday, I had a job interview at a ski and snowboard shop about 40 minutes from my house. (A snow shop in Australia? I know it sounds odd. All of their clientele are either travelling to Canada, Europe, or the mountains in New Zealand or south of Australia during the winter.) In order to get the interview, I said that I ski and snowboard regularly in Canada. I don't think I was lying. 'Regularly' is such an ambiguous term, really. I used to ski as a child, although I haven't done it in 4 or 5 years. And I tried snowboarding once, but I called it an early day when I got a concussion. The interview went well, in my mind, but they have eight other people to interview, so we shall see.
Yesterday, I went to Mooloolaba on the Sunshine Coast. (It is ridiculously difficult to remember all the names of cities and beaches because they all sound like a word I may have made up when I was five. Examples are the aforementioned Mooloolaba, Tangalooma, Coolangatta, etc. With that being said, they are really fun to say once you remember them.) I went there with Audrey and Jessie, my French roommate and American friend respectively, and 4 Aussies. It was a sweet beach. The waves were not as big as Surfer's Paradise, but it wasn't as commercialized either. I tried jet-skiing for the first time in my life. I was only on the back, not riding it, but it was still a wicked time. The drive back from the beach was beautiful, as we just drove for miles and miles with nothing but trees on either side of us, with rolling hills in the distance. Australia is a lot like Canada in that there are heavily populated regions, but you can also drive through the country and not see anything but nature on either side of the road.
I couldn't help but think during this drive how perfect life is. After a beautiful day at the beach, driving in the car with great people with great music playing, you can't help but appreciate how amazing life can be. I know it was Good Friday and you are supposed to be practicing your religion and not spending a day at the beach. However, in my mind's eye, appreciating a beautiful beach and the companionship of great people is quite an appropriate way of appreciating God. I may be wrong, I may be right. It's just how I feel.
When I returned home from the beach at 5:30, I had an email from my Aussie friend Scott inviting me to play poker with him and his Aussie mates. I eagerly accepted and by 7 pm I was in the company of 4 Aussies ready to play some poker. It was the first time I have hung out with just Aussies and it was a really fun time. Canadians and Australians just get along together. Our cultures are just so similar that it is impossible not to get along.
I did not win the game. I caught a flush on the flop and someone raised me an exorbitant amount. I raised All-In. He called. He had three of a kind. He caught a fourth on the river. Four of a kind beats the flush. Damn. But I did not even care. I smoked cigars, drank some bourbon, and watched the Broncos game on television. It was a kick-ass time. The Brisbane Broncos were playing Sydney, and one of the guys I was playing poker with was wearing a Sydney jersey instead of a Brisbane jersey. He cheered for Sydney because he did not want to cheer for the Broncos just like everyone else. I identified with this. I cheer for the Senators over the Leafs because, well, they actually have a good team. I also identified with how much he got chirped the whole game. Unlike the Leafs, though, the Broncos ultimately prevailed.
My love affair with rugby is growing, by the way. I am learning the distinctions between the three different leagues that are popular in Australia: League, Union, and Aussie Rules. Next Friday, I am going to attend the Broncos game. I am super pumped about that. The rules are pretty similar to NFL, with three differences that make it (gasp!) better than the NFL. Here are the three main differences. One, you have to touch the ball down in the end zone, not just cross the goal line (this makes it much more interesting, as a player can get drilled before he has the chance to touch the ball down). Two, there is no stoppage after a player is tackled. If he did not fumble when he was tackled, then he simply kicks the ball back to his teammate and play continues. Three, they don't wear equipment. It boggles my mind everytime I see these massive bodies collide at high speed. The only advantage the NFL has over rugby is the potential for amazing downfield throws and catches. But this does not come close to overcoming the advantages that rugby has. Seriously, if you learn the rules of rugby, you will be a fan. Trust me.
I am going to wrap it up. I must once again say that I appreciate you reading this. I know I tend to write a novel each time and I am thankful that you take time out of your day to read this. All three of you. I must give a shout out to Susan, who I know reads regularly. Thank you for being my blog's biggest fan. haha
And although they will not be reading this now, I want to wish my Mama and Rick a fun vacation, as they going golfing in Myrtle Beach for a couple of weeks. Luh ya Ma.
Important Alert: Chris has just booked a flight to Australia for the end of April, the same time Ash comes. That means that as of now, Ash, Sean, and Chris are all coming to visit me in the Land Down Under. I couldn't have expected that when I first came here. That is amazing.
Thanks guys. I hope you all have a wonderful Easter. It is my first Easter I will not be with my family, but I love you guys. I'll eat a great Easter meal while thinking of you!*
* great Easter meal may or may not consist of bread and peanut butter
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
The Concert I've been Waiting For!
Hello to my cyber friends,
Tonight I drank some beers by myself, cranked some tunes, and got excited for the concert I have been eagerly anticipating for 3 or 4 months now. Some of you may know that Wilco is one of my favourite bands. I want to say my favourite band, I really do, but I am averse to hyperbole. But rest assured, I love their music like a fat adult loves ineffectual fad diets.
As each minute passed, I grew more and more excited for this show. Wilco, who Wikipedia says is often referred to as 'America's Radiohead' because of their diverse range of musical inclinations, just does it for me. They hit me in a certain part of my brain, causing it to immediately say, "Yes, I am going to drift off to a better place for the next five minutes. See you later." Also, the venue at which they are playing, The Tivoli, is a world-class venue, and many Australians I have talked to have raved about it.
I already envisioned all the wonderful things I would say about this concert. I would talk about how I got to see an amazing band in an amazing country - an opportunity afforded to few people. I would exclaim that sometimes life just punches you in the face with its awesomeness, leaving you no choice but to recognize how fortunate you are. These were all the things I would tell you when I returned from my concert.
Alas, I will not be telling you any of that tonight.
The reason for this is the concert is on Wednesday the 19th of March. Today is the 12th, my friends. I read the ticket wrong.
Actual conversation between me and the doorperson:
Doorperson: Ticket Please.
(I hand her ticket)
Doorperson: This is a Wilco ticket.
Me: Yes it is.
Doorperson: This is The Jam
Me: I'm sorry? This isn't the Tivoli?
Doorperson: The Jam is playing tonight.
Me: (Not wanting to ask any more questions but still completely baffled) Oh ok. Right on, have a good night.
Then as I walked away wondering what had happened, I realized my sister's birthday had just passed. Her birthday is on the 8th. That means today is the 12th. Then I found a lightpost and slammed my face into at an alarming speed.
Yeah, I know. I may actually be clinically retarded.*
But anyhoo, I've already forgotten about that. (The only thing that stops me from getting depressed about my occasional spurts of extreme stupidity is my terrific ability to forget things.) I'll let you know how the concert goes next week. My only fear is that my brain may have already ticked off the event in my mental calendar and I won't attend next week.
A couple more things to throw your way.
I had a dream three nights ago that I met Will Smith and it was apparently the second time I had met him. We had an emotional encounter and I explained how much I idolized him and everything I wanted to do in my life was because of his inspiration. We were both crying a lot. It was pretty crazy. In my dream, I was explaining the emotional encounter with Big willy to one of my friends while we smoked a joint together. Who was the friend, you ask? John Mayer.
Do I idolize Will Smith that much? I didn't think so, but after I woke up, I thought about it. And you know what? I do idolize him. He went from late 80's rapper to Hollywood heavyweight and he has seemed like a genuinely nice guy the whole time. So thank you, crazy dream, for alerting me to my profound respect for Mr Smith.
And do I want to smoke a joint with John Mayer? Sure, why not.
Also, I went back to Surfer's Paradise last Saturday. My God, I love that place. The waves were even bigger this time. Every time the waves/undercurrent rip your limbs apart and destroy your sense of balance/direction, it is the single most invigorating moment of your life.
On the train to Surfer's, there was this couple (they were both around 18 years old) and they were kissing and snuggling the whole trip. They got off two stops before Surfer's. Then when I caught the train back about 5 hours later, they were on my train again. I was intrigued by this coincidence. I was also intrigued by the fact that they were not sitting together. Then after about fifteen minutes, she went and sat beside him. They were visibly arguing for about ten minutes. Then he told her to get off the train and she wouldn't. Then he tried to get up so he could get off and she wouldn't let him. She actually got physical and pushed him back into his chair (he was skinny, she was heavyset. I think she could have taken him in 8 rounds). Long story short, he spent the rest of the 1 hour train ride moving away from her. She spent the rest of the ride waiting ten minutes then moving over to where he had moved. They ended up going their separate ways at my stop, but I have no doubt she tracked him down again.
I have no idea what transpired between them from the time I first saw them and when I last saw them. I think he may have had a one night stand with her, and then was terrified when he saw her on his return trip. Whatever the case, it made for great entertainment.
Alright, you guys have been great. Don't forget to tip your waitress.
Donny boy
*Test results pending
Tonight I drank some beers by myself, cranked some tunes, and got excited for the concert I have been eagerly anticipating for 3 or 4 months now. Some of you may know that Wilco is one of my favourite bands. I want to say my favourite band, I really do, but I am averse to hyperbole. But rest assured, I love their music like a fat adult loves ineffectual fad diets.
As each minute passed, I grew more and more excited for this show. Wilco, who Wikipedia says is often referred to as 'America's Radiohead' because of their diverse range of musical inclinations, just does it for me. They hit me in a certain part of my brain, causing it to immediately say, "Yes, I am going to drift off to a better place for the next five minutes. See you later." Also, the venue at which they are playing, The Tivoli, is a world-class venue, and many Australians I have talked to have raved about it.
I already envisioned all the wonderful things I would say about this concert. I would talk about how I got to see an amazing band in an amazing country - an opportunity afforded to few people. I would exclaim that sometimes life just punches you in the face with its awesomeness, leaving you no choice but to recognize how fortunate you are. These were all the things I would tell you when I returned from my concert.
Alas, I will not be telling you any of that tonight.
The reason for this is the concert is on Wednesday the 19th of March. Today is the 12th, my friends. I read the ticket wrong.
Actual conversation between me and the doorperson:
Doorperson: Ticket Please.
(I hand her ticket)
Doorperson: This is a Wilco ticket.
Me: Yes it is.
Doorperson: This is The Jam
Me: I'm sorry? This isn't the Tivoli?
Doorperson: The Jam is playing tonight.
Me: (Not wanting to ask any more questions but still completely baffled) Oh ok. Right on, have a good night.
Then as I walked away wondering what had happened, I realized my sister's birthday had just passed. Her birthday is on the 8th. That means today is the 12th. Then I found a lightpost and slammed my face into at an alarming speed.
Yeah, I know. I may actually be clinically retarded.*
But anyhoo, I've already forgotten about that. (The only thing that stops me from getting depressed about my occasional spurts of extreme stupidity is my terrific ability to forget things.) I'll let you know how the concert goes next week. My only fear is that my brain may have already ticked off the event in my mental calendar and I won't attend next week.
A couple more things to throw your way.
I had a dream three nights ago that I met Will Smith and it was apparently the second time I had met him. We had an emotional encounter and I explained how much I idolized him and everything I wanted to do in my life was because of his inspiration. We were both crying a lot. It was pretty crazy. In my dream, I was explaining the emotional encounter with Big willy to one of my friends while we smoked a joint together. Who was the friend, you ask? John Mayer.
Do I idolize Will Smith that much? I didn't think so, but after I woke up, I thought about it. And you know what? I do idolize him. He went from late 80's rapper to Hollywood heavyweight and he has seemed like a genuinely nice guy the whole time. So thank you, crazy dream, for alerting me to my profound respect for Mr Smith.
And do I want to smoke a joint with John Mayer? Sure, why not.
Also, I went back to Surfer's Paradise last Saturday. My God, I love that place. The waves were even bigger this time. Every time the waves/undercurrent rip your limbs apart and destroy your sense of balance/direction, it is the single most invigorating moment of your life.
On the train to Surfer's, there was this couple (they were both around 18 years old) and they were kissing and snuggling the whole trip. They got off two stops before Surfer's. Then when I caught the train back about 5 hours later, they were on my train again. I was intrigued by this coincidence. I was also intrigued by the fact that they were not sitting together. Then after about fifteen minutes, she went and sat beside him. They were visibly arguing for about ten minutes. Then he told her to get off the train and she wouldn't. Then he tried to get up so he could get off and she wouldn't let him. She actually got physical and pushed him back into his chair (he was skinny, she was heavyset. I think she could have taken him in 8 rounds). Long story short, he spent the rest of the 1 hour train ride moving away from her. She spent the rest of the ride waiting ten minutes then moving over to where he had moved. They ended up going their separate ways at my stop, but I have no doubt she tracked him down again.
I have no idea what transpired between them from the time I first saw them and when I last saw them. I think he may have had a one night stand with her, and then was terrified when he saw her on his return trip. Whatever the case, it made for great entertainment.
Alright, you guys have been great. Don't forget to tip your waitress.
Donny boy
*Test results pending
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
I Am Paid Per Word
Oh hello there,
This past weekend was my best so far of my time here in Australia. Friday night I saw two of my favourite bands, Broken Social Scene and Stars, Saturday I went to Surfer’s Paradise with two French friends and an Australian friend, and Sunday I laid around outside playing guitar and watching The Sopranos on my computer. I know that watching a TV show on your computer does not sound fun when compared to a sweet concert and one of the most famous beaches in the world, but rest assured Sunday was friggin’ phenomenal.
Before I go any further, let me first congratulate C-Dep on the comment he made regarding my dream. He is the winner of this month’s contest. The contest called for contestants to make a previously happy person question their self-worth in 300 words or less. Once again, congratulations Chris.
Today I looked for a job. I have been applying online for a week now, but with limited success. So today I decided to start banging on some doors and handing out some resumes. With my boundless charisma, I knew that a job was but one gap-toothed smile away. Etienne and I went to the mall and applied for the same jobs. We did not go in together, but we did hand out our resumes to the exact same places within ten minutes of each other. I know this wasn’t a very good idea, but I am banking on the fact that my resume will probably be valued over his because I speak fluent English. Of course, he is probably banking on the fact that I have a dirty beard, dirty hair, and wore my fedora while he was dressed to the nines. We’ll call it a draw, I guess.
Those who know my aversion to physical labour will laugh at this story. I walk out of a store after just submitting my resume. A woman comes up to me and says, “Are you looking for a job?” I say, “Yeah! Why? Are you looking to hire?” She says, “Have you ever done physical labour?” I don’t even think about lying. “Nope,” I reply. Then, after realizing I sound like a bit of a pansy, I add “but I play a lot of sports so I mean I do physical stuff.” Smooth, I know.
She then asks, “Would you want to do some physical labour? For a builder?” I think for approximately half of a second and respond. “No, I don’t believe I would.” We exchange our pleasantries, and I walk away thoroughly pleased that I was able to escape the prospect of working hard for my money. I don’t think my hearing aids could take it because they would go dead from all the sweat that would pour out of my body in the Australian sun. That was a nice way of justifying my decision. But in the interest of full disclosure, I must admit I wasn’t even thinking about my hearing aids. I was thinking about my back, my knees, my shoulder, and my hips It ain’t easy being a 75 year old trapped in a 22 year old’s body.
I have a bad memory when it comes to everyday stuff. There is a water fountain at school that shoots about a foot in the air when you first push the button before it settles down to its normal 5 centimeter arc. I always forget about this initial burst at the push of the button. Consequently, every time I drink from this fountain I receive a blast of water to the face that helps me identify with the plight of the female adult film star.
I also just figured out yesterday which one of the nozzles in the shower was hot and which one was cold and also which way you have to turn them to shut them off (Yes I have been living in this house over two weeks). Prior to yesterday, my showers consisted of me turning on the shower by turning both nozzles, then stepping under the water. Then it would either be too cold or hot so I would turn to adjust the nozzles and realize I forgot which was hot and which was cold. I would then realize I did not know which way to turn the nozzles to make them hotter or colder. You can see how much of an adventure this became. 3rd degree burns and instantaneous frostbite wreaked havoc on my body. You know how I finally memorized this information? When I was thinking about how I should write it in my blog. When I realized how stupid it made me sound, my brain got offended and took action. It compiled the shower information and now has it stored in my memory banks. However, I liked this new adventure every day and I am now quite upset that my brain has deprived me of this. In retaliation, I am still telling you about my lack of memory to spite my brain.
I realize that my brain has to be functioning in order for me to even be writing this, but it has been a complex chain of events and I would prefer if you just let it be.
To summarize my memory problems, let me put it this way: if I was a lion, I would probably continue to go to the same watering hole long after the other lions realized that the buffaloes and gazelles no longer gathered there. I would die within days. Thank god I am a human.
Alright, now let me tell you about the concert and beach!
The concert: I went by myself. I struck up a conversation with a guy on the train into the city. He ended up being a 19 year-old homosexual. His name was Johnny Boy, and he even had a hand gesture/symbol to accompany his name whenever he said it. He did not know the band I was going to see. When prompted, he informed me his favourite singer is “Britney motherfucking Spears. She is just the BADDEST! Me and my friends just crank that and dance all night long!” We did not share similar musical tastes.
There is always one person at a concert who is rocking out a little harder than those around him. That guy or girl who cheers extra loud and has that extra hop in their step. I was that person. Stars and Broken Social Scene rocked out and I loved every minute of it.
When I got home, there was a little bit of a shindig going on at my house with the international students. My house has become the de facto hang out house because of its size and because of the immense popularity of its tenants (I’m talking about me!). So we partied the rest of the night and it was a good time. I must admit that I consistently fall asleep before everyone else when we have our get-togethers. Most of the other international students are 19-20 years old. Those extra few years are killing me.
Saturday I went to Surfer’s Paradise. Wow. I have already been to Surfer’s once since I have been to Australia. I did not document it because it was raining that day and, in all honesty, it was really nothing to blog home about. But this time? It was unreal. Beautiful sunshine, huge waves, and a 22 year old who wishes he could be 5 years old for the rest of his life. A perfect combination. I played in those waves for so long. I stayed out in the waves for an hour after my friends had gone back in to lay on their towels. It was too much fun to go in.
When I woke up Sunday, moving my limbs was a chore. My back and my hips were punishing me for battling the undercurrent all day Saturday. And believe me, the undercurrent is a force to be reckoned with. It doesn’t just move you. It has its way with you. Of course, I decided to run against it all afternoon so I didn’t drift too far from where our towels were located.
Listen, I know this is getting long. I am gonna wrap it up now. When I first got in the water, I was scared of sharks. Kinda got over it but the thought is always there. Sunday, since I was sore, I just lazed around. Awesome.
OK well thank you for reading this mini novel. The denouement has always been my weak point. These were originally going to be three posts and now they became one due to my procrastination.
Once again, thank you for reading this. If you are reading this and I haven’t heard from you, drop me a line. It’s nice to hear from all of you.
Til next time,
Donaldhino
(Random Australian fact: Burger King and McDonald’s are just as prevalent in Australia as they are in the rest of the civilized world. However, Burger King is called Hungry Jack’s. McDonald’s is still called McDonald’s, but it’s nickname is not Mickey D’s. It is Macca.)
This past weekend was my best so far of my time here in Australia. Friday night I saw two of my favourite bands, Broken Social Scene and Stars, Saturday I went to Surfer’s Paradise with two French friends and an Australian friend, and Sunday I laid around outside playing guitar and watching The Sopranos on my computer. I know that watching a TV show on your computer does not sound fun when compared to a sweet concert and one of the most famous beaches in the world, but rest assured Sunday was friggin’ phenomenal.
Before I go any further, let me first congratulate C-Dep on the comment he made regarding my dream. He is the winner of this month’s contest. The contest called for contestants to make a previously happy person question their self-worth in 300 words or less. Once again, congratulations Chris.
Today I looked for a job. I have been applying online for a week now, but with limited success. So today I decided to start banging on some doors and handing out some resumes. With my boundless charisma, I knew that a job was but one gap-toothed smile away. Etienne and I went to the mall and applied for the same jobs. We did not go in together, but we did hand out our resumes to the exact same places within ten minutes of each other. I know this wasn’t a very good idea, but I am banking on the fact that my resume will probably be valued over his because I speak fluent English. Of course, he is probably banking on the fact that I have a dirty beard, dirty hair, and wore my fedora while he was dressed to the nines. We’ll call it a draw, I guess.
Those who know my aversion to physical labour will laugh at this story. I walk out of a store after just submitting my resume. A woman comes up to me and says, “Are you looking for a job?” I say, “Yeah! Why? Are you looking to hire?” She says, “Have you ever done physical labour?” I don’t even think about lying. “Nope,” I reply. Then, after realizing I sound like a bit of a pansy, I add “but I play a lot of sports so I mean I do physical stuff.” Smooth, I know.
She then asks, “Would you want to do some physical labour? For a builder?” I think for approximately half of a second and respond. “No, I don’t believe I would.” We exchange our pleasantries, and I walk away thoroughly pleased that I was able to escape the prospect of working hard for my money. I don’t think my hearing aids could take it because they would go dead from all the sweat that would pour out of my body in the Australian sun. That was a nice way of justifying my decision. But in the interest of full disclosure, I must admit I wasn’t even thinking about my hearing aids. I was thinking about my back, my knees, my shoulder, and my hips It ain’t easy being a 75 year old trapped in a 22 year old’s body.
I have a bad memory when it comes to everyday stuff. There is a water fountain at school that shoots about a foot in the air when you first push the button before it settles down to its normal 5 centimeter arc. I always forget about this initial burst at the push of the button. Consequently, every time I drink from this fountain I receive a blast of water to the face that helps me identify with the plight of the female adult film star.
I also just figured out yesterday which one of the nozzles in the shower was hot and which one was cold and also which way you have to turn them to shut them off (Yes I have been living in this house over two weeks). Prior to yesterday, my showers consisted of me turning on the shower by turning both nozzles, then stepping under the water. Then it would either be too cold or hot so I would turn to adjust the nozzles and realize I forgot which was hot and which was cold. I would then realize I did not know which way to turn the nozzles to make them hotter or colder. You can see how much of an adventure this became. 3rd degree burns and instantaneous frostbite wreaked havoc on my body. You know how I finally memorized this information? When I was thinking about how I should write it in my blog. When I realized how stupid it made me sound, my brain got offended and took action. It compiled the shower information and now has it stored in my memory banks. However, I liked this new adventure every day and I am now quite upset that my brain has deprived me of this. In retaliation, I am still telling you about my lack of memory to spite my brain.
I realize that my brain has to be functioning in order for me to even be writing this, but it has been a complex chain of events and I would prefer if you just let it be.
To summarize my memory problems, let me put it this way: if I was a lion, I would probably continue to go to the same watering hole long after the other lions realized that the buffaloes and gazelles no longer gathered there. I would die within days. Thank god I am a human.
Alright, now let me tell you about the concert and beach!
The concert: I went by myself. I struck up a conversation with a guy on the train into the city. He ended up being a 19 year-old homosexual. His name was Johnny Boy, and he even had a hand gesture/symbol to accompany his name whenever he said it. He did not know the band I was going to see. When prompted, he informed me his favourite singer is “Britney motherfucking Spears. She is just the BADDEST! Me and my friends just crank that and dance all night long!” We did not share similar musical tastes.
There is always one person at a concert who is rocking out a little harder than those around him. That guy or girl who cheers extra loud and has that extra hop in their step. I was that person. Stars and Broken Social Scene rocked out and I loved every minute of it.
When I got home, there was a little bit of a shindig going on at my house with the international students. My house has become the de facto hang out house because of its size and because of the immense popularity of its tenants (I’m talking about me!). So we partied the rest of the night and it was a good time. I must admit that I consistently fall asleep before everyone else when we have our get-togethers. Most of the other international students are 19-20 years old. Those extra few years are killing me.
Saturday I went to Surfer’s Paradise. Wow. I have already been to Surfer’s once since I have been to Australia. I did not document it because it was raining that day and, in all honesty, it was really nothing to blog home about. But this time? It was unreal. Beautiful sunshine, huge waves, and a 22 year old who wishes he could be 5 years old for the rest of his life. A perfect combination. I played in those waves for so long. I stayed out in the waves for an hour after my friends had gone back in to lay on their towels. It was too much fun to go in.
When I woke up Sunday, moving my limbs was a chore. My back and my hips were punishing me for battling the undercurrent all day Saturday. And believe me, the undercurrent is a force to be reckoned with. It doesn’t just move you. It has its way with you. Of course, I decided to run against it all afternoon so I didn’t drift too far from where our towels were located.
Listen, I know this is getting long. I am gonna wrap it up now. When I first got in the water, I was scared of sharks. Kinda got over it but the thought is always there. Sunday, since I was sore, I just lazed around. Awesome.
OK well thank you for reading this mini novel. The denouement has always been my weak point. These were originally going to be three posts and now they became one due to my procrastination.
Once again, thank you for reading this. If you are reading this and I haven’t heard from you, drop me a line. It’s nice to hear from all of you.
Til next time,
Donaldhino
(Random Australian fact: Burger King and McDonald’s are just as prevalent in Australia as they are in the rest of the civilized world. However, Burger King is called Hungry Jack’s. McDonald’s is still called McDonald’s, but it’s nickname is not Mickey D’s. It is Macca.)
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