Hi there cyberfriends,
There are a couple of things I have not told you that one might consider to be important events.
First, I broke my computer about two weeks ago. Etienne and I had been driving somewhere we had never been. We had my laptop along with us so we could trust the powers of Google Maps. When we arrived at our destination, I closed my laptop and put it on his seat. When he got back in the car, he moved my laptop over to the passenger seat. When I got into the car, I did not check my seat. I sat on the computer. I did not even think anything of it. I said, “Oh hey, my computer is under me.” I then moved it to the back seat.
Only in the morning did I realize the extent of the damage. I had cracked the screen. It started out as just a little black spot. Two weeks later, it is a huge black spot that dominates the entire centre of my screen. I have to move my windows to the corners to be able to view anything. At the rate this black blob is expanding, I figure I have another week before I can’t use my computer at all. I am slightly angry about this, but not extremely angry. First of all, I really do not need a computer anymore because school is almost over. Secondly, I will be able to use Ash’s computer when she gets here in, oh I don’t know, two days! So it's not that bad.
But dammit this computer cost me $1000! Dammit!
Sorry I tried to look at the positive side there but the negative is pretty overpowering.
Alright, so beyond my idiocy (of which you were already aware), what else has been going on in my semi-charmed life? Let’s just say this past week has been the best week so far in Australia. I know I told you I had a lot of work to do (and I did it all) but I also interpersed some amazing trips with the work. Last week, two roommates and I drove to a nearby beach at 1 am. We went for a walk and found a boardwalk that weaves through wetlands for 6 or 7 kilometres. It was intense and beautiful.
The next night, Etienne and I went to the same beach to play some midnight Frisbee (and no, that is not some weird slang for homosexual activity). After a half hour, some Aussie friends unexpectedly showed up. They were hitting some golf balls into the water and we joined in the fun. It felt great to swing a golf club for the first time in a long while.
On Friday, I went to Double Island in Noosa, about an hour and a half north of Brisbane. To give you a sense of how amazing of a time I had, here is an excerpt of an email I sent to my mom that night:
“I am just going to bed now but I saw that you emailed and I got excited! The beach today was ab-so-lute-ly unreal! The best time I have had here in Australia! Seriously Ma, today was a slice of heaven. We went to an island at Noosa Beach, one of the more renowned Australian beaches. We took our car in a 2 minute ferry ride across, and then it was like the Muskokas, only better. Audrey and Jess went horseback riding along the beach for two hours, and me and Etienne rented a canoe and paddled around the huge lake for two hours. We would stop paddling for 10 minute stretches and just relax and talk. Fish jumped out of the water on a couple of occasions and we were surrounded by forest and mountains. Then we're lugging the canoe back to the resort and...a whole bunch of kangaroos come hopping in front of us! And they were everywhere! We went up and pet them, and tried to feed them. Imagine! Wild kangaroos and I was petting them. A couple of the mothers had their baby in the pouch and it was just such a surreal experience. After canoeing we went in the ocean at sunset with purple and pink clouds in the sky and the sun setting behind the mountains. And the water was so warm and the waves were so big. Then on the drive home my roommates and I stopped at an amazing Aussie restaurant. Then when we were closer to home, we stopped at another beach, put on the music, laid on the car and looked at the stars. "
Keep in mind that my policy regarding exclamation points is to use them like deodorant: infrequently and sparingly, if necessary. It was just such an amazing experience that there was no way around using them.
I am going to cut this blog post short. I have some school work to do before Sean and Dave get here. When do they get here, you ask? In 12 hours. Yeah, that came quick. Then Ash and Chris show up in 36 hours. It is going to be unbelievable. We are going to Surfer’s Paradise, Byron Bay for the aforementioned Mardi Grass, and then beautiful Cairns for 5 days.
I will not be blogging for a little while due to their arrival and our travels. When I do blog, you can bet that I will have a lot to share. School is almost over. The fun part is now starting.
Oh by the way, I was scheduled to work on Saturday but I did not know this. Consequently, I missed my shift. My manager was not upset. She was just worried that something had happened to me. Today, she gave me four passion fruits grown in her backyard that I could take home. She also asked if I would like to go for a ride in her husband’s hot rod with them some time. She also said she would give me a nice blanket our next shift together after I casually mentioned the nights are getting a little bit chilly. I am really happy she likes me and I think she is a sweet lady as well. The only reason all this love troubles me is because I lied when I applied for the job and told her I am in Australia until January. Now I have to tell this sweet lady that I am leaving in July. I am an asshole.
Thanks for checking in and I will be in touch soon. Word to big bird.
D.J.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Mocking the Redundancy of a Title
Hello party people, Put your hands up, put your hands up!
Now please put them down. Thank you for that. It just sets the mood of the article from the get-go. I am still in Australia, as you may have imagined. I wonder what your reaction would be if I just randomly put up a blog post that said something like, “Oh hey! I felt spontaneous and took a flight to Sweden!” It would be a really big shock, but I bet you would believe it for a second, no? But I digress, as I am wont to do.
Life is a blast here down under. I have so many school projects I must finish this week but I am not the least bit stressed about them. For those of you who know my work habits back home, you will be amazed to learn that I have found new levels of procrastination and general antipathy towards studying. However, the school environment in which I currently find myself is very conducive to not giving a shit. In fact, it reinforces my indifference. I have received marks at the top of my class in everything I have done so far and I haven’t given it any effort. Tonight, my professor explained how you can merely change some words around in your source document and use it in your own report to avoid plagiarism. She basically said that it is not plagiarism when you switch some words. Even more basically, she told us how to effectively plagiarize. She then told us she will know if we did not write it ourselves if it is written too well. I was flabbergasted and ecstatic. I am going to assume that there are universities that are quite difficult in Australia, so I would just like to take this time to thank Wilfrid Laurier University for sending me to this school.
So why, you ask, do I have all of these projects to do? Well, they are all due over the next three weeks but I want to complete them before Ashley, Chris, Sean, and Dave arrive here in Brisbane. And they arrive in one week! I am so excited and I can’t believe how fast time has gone. When they get off the plane, I am going to feel mixed emotions that will confuse me and cause me to run to the train and go back home without meeting them. I am just kidding, but I know Ash and Chris will be reading this blog post and I always like to keep them on their toes. Leave them wondering, “Is-is he joking?”
I tried to walk home from work yesterday instead of taking the train. It is only a half hour walk and I have done it with my roommates twice before. Yet, being the competitor I am, I still found a way to get lost. I don’t care how easy you try to make my route; I will get lost. It’s my competitive nature, baby. Seriously, though, it is pretty pathetic. I think if celestial beings were tracking my movements the way that humans track birds and other animals, they would be thoroughly confused by the route I take when I am lost.
“Where is he walking right now? He has passed two turns that will take him to his home yet he keeps walking!”
“He is walking slow and disoriented too. Is it possible he is looking for food?”
“No, he bought food from a grocery store yesterday. If he wanted food, he would go home.”
“Perhaps he is looking for a mate?”
“He has a mate on the other side of the planet. You know how crazy these humans are when they fall in this ‘love’ material they have there.”
“Well then I am not sure where he is going – oh wait, he is now walking on his street towards home. You don’t think this human does not know how to navigate his planet, do you?”
“Simon, come on! These humans are advanced creatures. Of course he knows how to navigate. Even primates know how to navigate! Even the cats and dogs can find their way home! This man is clearly of even higher intelligence than the rest. I can see his entire route was downhill. Perhaps he consciously or even sub-consciously planned his whole route to avoid difficult uphill slopes.”
“He is a unique specimen, Riley. He is certainly unique.”
(There is no doubt in my mind that celestial beings would have the names Simon and Riley. I really can’t think of anything else they would be called.)
Two nights ago I watched the movie Open Water. It is about a young couple that goes scuba diving at a reef. The boat driver mistakenly counts all the heads while they are still underwater and they leave without them. There is no happy ending here. The boat never comes back. They die. Since they never found them (except the guy’s camera in the stomach of a shark) they don’t know exactly how they died. However, there is no doubt it involved either drowning or being eaten by sharks. Neither of these scenarios sounds particularly enticing. Believe me when I say that I felt fearful for the characters in this movie.
I know what you are thinking: “It’s just a movie about sharks. It’s been done before. Have you ever heard of Jaws?” I would normally agree with you – wait a minute, did you just get snarky with me? Yes I’ve obviously heard of Jaws, you ass – but allow me to explain. In two weeks, the gang of Canadians will be heading up to Cairns. While there, I will be taken out to the ocean by unknown men. At this point I will jump in the ocean and snorkel at the Great Barrier Reef, for this is why I will have paid them to take me out to this place. This plot sounds eerily similar to the beginning of Open Water and I couldn’t help but think that I hope the endings are drastically different.
I just have a little tidbit I would like to share about my job. As I stated earlier, I work at a store that sells expensive porcelain, bone china, and crystal. So far, I have done a swell job of not breaking anything. However, my hands are like big blocks of wood. They were not meant for doing anything requiring delicacy or grace. This is why it is absolutely agonizing every time I have to wrap somebody’s China in tissue and pack it up for them. I can feel the perspiration forming on my forehead and I can feel them looking at me, judging me. “This guy doesn’t know how to wrap China! This gift is going to look awful when she opens it. My god, he just got the tape gun stuck to the tissue paper and now he is trying to rip them apart from each other. How did he manage to wrap himself in tape?” And then I finish and hand it to her and she says, “Thank you!”
On Saturday, I went to the park for a couple hours and just walked around and admired the beautiful plants and flowers. And the lizards. Man I love lizards. There are big ones here – the biggest I have seen was about three and a half feet long. In the botanical gardens, most lizards are about two feet long. When they see you approaching, they just stand absolutely still and watch you with that wary moving eye. This is too much for me to resist. I have to see if I can get close to them. I stand absolutely still as well and make subtle slow movements toward the lizard. Most times, they run away once I am within a four or five feet proximity but on Saturday I got close enough that I touched one. I like to believe that he recognized I was cool with lizards and that I just wanted to chill. I touched his back a couple times before he finally took off, at which point I said, “Adios little buddy.” We had a moment and we moved on with our lives. But I will never forget lil’ Estado.
I recently published my blog on my Facebook and MSN so I have had a few new people letting me know that they have been checking it out. Whoever is taking time out of their day to read something I wrote, I just want to say thanks a lot. To those of you who I have said it to in person before, let me say it again: I love you. To those of you with whom I have never shared those three magical words, I may love you and we haven’t found the right opportunity to say it or I maybe just enjoy your company. We don’t need to rush anything. The main point is I am happy you are reading this.
Enjoy your beautiful spring weather in Canada.
D. James F. Demers IV
Esquire
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Two Black People, Two Drastically Different Effects on my Life
Hey yo y'all,
I hope you are all enjoying your lives. If you are not, I urge you to try. Thanks.
I have worked the past two days (Saturday and Sunday) and I work tomorrow as well. Here in Australia, you can earn $20/hr for selling china and cutlery. You also earn time and a half for working on a Sunday. So, yes you did the math correctly, I earned $30 an hour today. The cost of living is a little bit higher here, but still, thirty dollars an hour? That is pretty sweet.
I have been following the American election a little bit and I have to say, I will be very upset if this Barack character does not win. How much do I know about his policies? Admittedly, not a lot. How much do I know about Hillary and McCain's policies? Not too much either. But what I do know is that Barack does not have the same old guard mentality that the other two candidates do. Hillary and McCain are just incarnations of the same candidates we've seen time and time again. I know Hillary is different in the sense that she lacks a penis, but let's be honest, we're not sure if that has been proven.
How many times have you seen an article like this one and just laughed at the similarities between the presidential election and the hallways of a high school? Do you remember the Swift Boat controversy from the last election? Yeah, I'm glad that we cleared up that whole thing. Barack does not seem to be in the race for political posturing or to bash his opposition. He has done both of these things undoubtedly, but this is an unfortunate inevitability during an election.
If you think that Barack is just a hot ticket right now because of his race and because he is the liberal media's darling, I urge you to watch this. I know it is long, but it one of the most inspiring speeches you will ever see. The man has the ability to inspire people with his words. He wrote this speech himself. Not his speech writers. Him. I know we cannot judge a man solely on his ability as an orator, but Bush is an awful public speaker and he has been an awful president. Through the power of trend analysis, I think we can deduce that Barack Obama will be at least mediocre.
As I said, I have not been following this election close enough to have an opinion that is important. However, I wanted to share my opinion anyway because when I watched Barack's speech, I was overcome with emotion. I felt that politics can actually be a beacon for change. And I am not sure when I last felt that, if I ever have.
Waiting for my train on the way home from work tonight, a black transvestite sat on the bench behind me. He put his (her?) hand on my back, and said, "Hey sweetie, do you have two dollars you could spare?"
I had been reading (see: zoned out) and I was shaken out of my trance by this question, as well as the contact on my back. When I turned around to answer this seemingly innocuous question, my face was thirty centimetres away from the face of a transvestite. What occurred over the next two minutes, in retrospect, seems like a dream. I will paraphrase the conversation for you, starting with my answer to the initial question.
Me: No
Tranny: Why not?
Me: Because I just don't have any money.
Tranny: You don't even have two dollars?
Me: I don't have any money, ok?
(We stare at each other for about 5 seconds. His look is 5% incredulity, 5% anger, and I think approximately 90% flirtiness. I am terrified but entranced.)
Tranny: Do you smoke?
Me: No.
Tranny: Why not?
(This is such a dumb follow-up question, I am now questioning if I misunderstood his initial question. Consequently, I respond ambiguously to cover whatever he might have asked.)
Me: 'Cuz I don't.
Tranny: No, I wanna know. Why don't you smoke?
(So I did hear his first question correctly, but now I am flummoxed by the fact that I have to explain why I do not smoke. I know that I rationally should have ended the conversation at this point but, let's face it, I am a big pussy.)
Me: Because I don't want lung cancer.
(At this point, I lean forward so he can't touch me anymore.)
Tranny: What's wrong? (His glance is accusatory, as if I have something against trannies.)
Me: I generally don't like strangers touching me, as a rule. (I am quite proud of this response.)
Tranny: Hmmm
(He then proceeds to stare at me for about 5 seconds. I lock eyes with him. I am not sure if I did this because I wanted to show I wasn't afraid or if I wanted to show I was accepting of transsexuals. But then he notices my hearing aids.)
Tranny: Oh my God, you're deaf. I am so sorry.
(If you think I was going to defend the hearing impaired at this point, you're crazy.)
Me: Yes I am.
Tranny: Oh my god, I am so sorry. Bye bye.
Me: It is ok. You have a nice day now.
At this point, the tranny walked away and harrassed a girl down the bench for money. She gave it to him immediately. I think I saw her burn her hand on her purse, how quickly she opened it.
I am telling you guys, I cannot describe how surreal this encounter was. I know I refer to the tranny as a 'him', but I was genuinely trying to decide the whole time if this guy was post-operation or pre-operation. He had a voice like a woman and I think I saw breasts when he walked away. But he had a couple stray hairs on his upper lip and cheekbones that reminded me he was still a large man. He just stared at me the whole time and I stared back. I had a long day at work and I had been reading, and he snapped me out of a solid mental zone-out, and all these ingredients compounded to create a very, very odd experience. I hope that I was able to accurately convey this.
After he left me, I was talking to another passenger. She was a nice lady, about thirty years old. During the course of the conversation, she asked me how much experience I had in retail. I told her I had quite a bit. She asked, "How much is quite a bit?" I responded, "Have you seen Road to Perdition?"
"No," she said.
"OK good," I answered. "I don't think anyone has. It's a bad movie from what I've heard."
I hope you are all enjoying your lives. If you are not, I urge you to try. Thanks.
I have worked the past two days (Saturday and Sunday) and I work tomorrow as well. Here in Australia, you can earn $20/hr for selling china and cutlery. You also earn time and a half for working on a Sunday. So, yes you did the math correctly, I earned $30 an hour today. The cost of living is a little bit higher here, but still, thirty dollars an hour? That is pretty sweet.
I have been following the American election a little bit and I have to say, I will be very upset if this Barack character does not win. How much do I know about his policies? Admittedly, not a lot. How much do I know about Hillary and McCain's policies? Not too much either. But what I do know is that Barack does not have the same old guard mentality that the other two candidates do. Hillary and McCain are just incarnations of the same candidates we've seen time and time again. I know Hillary is different in the sense that she lacks a penis, but let's be honest, we're not sure if that has been proven.
How many times have you seen an article like this one and just laughed at the similarities between the presidential election and the hallways of a high school? Do you remember the Swift Boat controversy from the last election? Yeah, I'm glad that we cleared up that whole thing. Barack does not seem to be in the race for political posturing or to bash his opposition. He has done both of these things undoubtedly, but this is an unfortunate inevitability during an election.
If you think that Barack is just a hot ticket right now because of his race and because he is the liberal media's darling, I urge you to watch this. I know it is long, but it one of the most inspiring speeches you will ever see. The man has the ability to inspire people with his words. He wrote this speech himself. Not his speech writers. Him. I know we cannot judge a man solely on his ability as an orator, but Bush is an awful public speaker and he has been an awful president. Through the power of trend analysis, I think we can deduce that Barack Obama will be at least mediocre.
As I said, I have not been following this election close enough to have an opinion that is important. However, I wanted to share my opinion anyway because when I watched Barack's speech, I was overcome with emotion. I felt that politics can actually be a beacon for change. And I am not sure when I last felt that, if I ever have.
Waiting for my train on the way home from work tonight, a black transvestite sat on the bench behind me. He put his (her?) hand on my back, and said, "Hey sweetie, do you have two dollars you could spare?"
I had been reading (see: zoned out) and I was shaken out of my trance by this question, as well as the contact on my back. When I turned around to answer this seemingly innocuous question, my face was thirty centimetres away from the face of a transvestite. What occurred over the next two minutes, in retrospect, seems like a dream. I will paraphrase the conversation for you, starting with my answer to the initial question.
Me: No
Tranny: Why not?
Me: Because I just don't have any money.
Tranny: You don't even have two dollars?
Me: I don't have any money, ok?
(We stare at each other for about 5 seconds. His look is 5% incredulity, 5% anger, and I think approximately 90% flirtiness. I am terrified but entranced.)
Tranny: Do you smoke?
Me: No.
Tranny: Why not?
(This is such a dumb follow-up question, I am now questioning if I misunderstood his initial question. Consequently, I respond ambiguously to cover whatever he might have asked.)
Me: 'Cuz I don't.
Tranny: No, I wanna know. Why don't you smoke?
(So I did hear his first question correctly, but now I am flummoxed by the fact that I have to explain why I do not smoke. I know that I rationally should have ended the conversation at this point but, let's face it, I am a big pussy.)
Me: Because I don't want lung cancer.
(At this point, I lean forward so he can't touch me anymore.)
Tranny: What's wrong? (His glance is accusatory, as if I have something against trannies.)
Me: I generally don't like strangers touching me, as a rule. (I am quite proud of this response.)
Tranny: Hmmm
(He then proceeds to stare at me for about 5 seconds. I lock eyes with him. I am not sure if I did this because I wanted to show I wasn't afraid or if I wanted to show I was accepting of transsexuals. But then he notices my hearing aids.)
Tranny: Oh my God, you're deaf. I am so sorry.
(If you think I was going to defend the hearing impaired at this point, you're crazy.)
Me: Yes I am.
Tranny: Oh my god, I am so sorry. Bye bye.
Me: It is ok. You have a nice day now.
At this point, the tranny walked away and harrassed a girl down the bench for money. She gave it to him immediately. I think I saw her burn her hand on her purse, how quickly she opened it.
I am telling you guys, I cannot describe how surreal this encounter was. I know I refer to the tranny as a 'him', but I was genuinely trying to decide the whole time if this guy was post-operation or pre-operation. He had a voice like a woman and I think I saw breasts when he walked away. But he had a couple stray hairs on his upper lip and cheekbones that reminded me he was still a large man. He just stared at me the whole time and I stared back. I had a long day at work and I had been reading, and he snapped me out of a solid mental zone-out, and all these ingredients compounded to create a very, very odd experience. I hope that I was able to accurately convey this.
After he left me, I was talking to another passenger. She was a nice lady, about thirty years old. During the course of the conversation, she asked me how much experience I had in retail. I told her I had quite a bit. She asked, "How much is quite a bit?" I responded, "Have you seen Road to Perdition?"
"No," she said.
"OK good," I answered. "I don't think anyone has. It's a bad movie from what I've heard."
Saturday, April 5, 2008
Tom Hanks Will Find a Way Into Any Blog Post
Hi-dee-ho neighbourinos,
I realize that I have not updated this blog in a little over a week. I apologize, but you people can't keep inundating me with emails asking how I am doing and what I am up to. It is getting ridiculous. I don't even have time to experience any of Australia's gifts when I am responding to upwards of 1000 emails a day. I don't mean to sound ungrateful; it just gets tiring being this popular.
What have I been doing since my successful foray into the working world? Not a whole lot, my friends, not a whole lot. I walked through the Botanical Garden in Brisbane, saw the Andy Warhol exhibit at the art gallery, worked one day, watched a couple movies, partied a couple nights, watched some rugby, went to some classes, and I went to Mooloolaba on the Sunshine Coast today. That was the highlight of the week. I love the waves. I don't ride the crest properly at all and consequently I get water up my nose and frequently hit the ocean floor as I am ripped in every direction. But I think that is part of the appeal. When you realize that you are at the mercy of Mother Nature, all of life's problems disappear. I don't really have a single problem, but just imagine if I did!
We had one roommate leave us this week and a new roommate join us. Old Roommate told our landlord we partied too much, causing our landlord to put up a list of rules in the house and regard us with more wariness. New roommate likes to party with us. Old Roommate spoke minimal english and just laughed every time she did not understand anything rather than ask for clarification. New Roommate is American and enjoys conversing. Old Roommate made herself rice seemingly every meal and took it to her room to eat by herself. New Roommate eats with all of us and we have all taken turns making meals each night this week. In short, the house is pretty much perfect now. One French man (Etienne), one French woman (Audrey), and two North Americans (me and New Roommate aka Jessie). Another bonus is that we all have partners back home so nobody is trying to get into anybody else's pants (although I do worry about Etienne sometimes.)
In all seriousness, Etienne and I have become very good friends. We are similar in a lot of ways. He has a very dry and witty sense of humour, much like me. His viewpoint on life is that we should try to be successful but not take ourselves too seriously, much like me. And he also has the highest marks at his business school in France, much like Jesse Spano in Saved by the Bell.
Etienne and I have had some fun times playing pranks as well. When our other roommate Audrey first moved in, she had a surprise waiting for her when she woke up. This surprise was that she could not leave her room because there was a large table, a dresser, two chairs, a vacuum cleaner, and an ironing board stacked against her door. I've also missed a train because I couldn't find any of my three pairs of shoes that Etienne had decided to hide in various locations throughout the house.* Every night we sit out on the porch and have a beer, have a good talk, and marvel at the fact that we are in Australia.
Last week, I informed you that I got a job. However, I never informed you what I will be doing in this job. What if I told you that I am working for Villeroy and Boch, the world's oldest purveyor of fine china and silverware? I can sell a single plate worth $80 or a cutlery set for $600. This is some seriously fancy stuff. As you may or may not be aware, I am not the most nimble and coordinated individual, so I am slightly terrified that I will break something. On the bright side, it would make for a great blog post. I'll keep you posted.
I am not doing anything too exciting as of yet, but only 3 weeks til Ash, Chris, and Sean come and I will be travelling all around Australia. I have been looking into different destinations and prices and it is getting me very, very excited. A couple days ago I was at a travel agency obtaining some information on an island to which I may or may not want to travel. I asked if I could just rough it on the island instead of staying in a hostel. The man informed me that I would have to have some advanced outdoorsman skills. I told him not to worry, as I lived on an island for an extended period of time. He said, "Oh really? What island was that?" I replied, "Have you seen Castaway?"
Just to let you know, a couple hours south of Brisbane there is a beach town called Byron Bay. The population of Byron Bay is comprised of mainly backpackers and free spirits, if you will. I have yet to venture there, but I think I know when I may go there. There is an annual festival held there called Mardi Grass. That extra 'S' in grass was not a typo. This year, Mardi Grass will be held on May 3rd and 4th. I don't condone illicit drugs or the glorification of addictive substances. But I am just a tourist and I owe it to myself to see what the fuss is all about. I hope all the kids there aren't in the throes of Reefer Madness!
That about wraps it up, my friends. It's been nice chatting with you. I like this blog format because I get to do all the talking and I don't have to pretend I find you interesting. That's not directed at all of you, just Chris.
'Til next time!
*I know I did not tell you what my retaliation was for Etienne hiding my shoes. This is because it was not quite as detailed and elaborate as his prank. After a week of eating too many beans and drinking a lot of milk, I had some remarkably putrid flatulence. With this tool at my disposal, I walked up to Etienne, barehugged him, and farted several times. He could not escape my vise-like grip and his intense struggling soon dimmed to faint kicks and tiny little whimpers. I released him before he could be granted the sweet mercy of death.
I realize that I have not updated this blog in a little over a week. I apologize, but you people can't keep inundating me with emails asking how I am doing and what I am up to. It is getting ridiculous. I don't even have time to experience any of Australia's gifts when I am responding to upwards of 1000 emails a day. I don't mean to sound ungrateful; it just gets tiring being this popular.
What have I been doing since my successful foray into the working world? Not a whole lot, my friends, not a whole lot. I walked through the Botanical Garden in Brisbane, saw the Andy Warhol exhibit at the art gallery, worked one day, watched a couple movies, partied a couple nights, watched some rugby, went to some classes, and I went to Mooloolaba on the Sunshine Coast today. That was the highlight of the week. I love the waves. I don't ride the crest properly at all and consequently I get water up my nose and frequently hit the ocean floor as I am ripped in every direction. But I think that is part of the appeal. When you realize that you are at the mercy of Mother Nature, all of life's problems disappear. I don't really have a single problem, but just imagine if I did!
We had one roommate leave us this week and a new roommate join us. Old Roommate told our landlord we partied too much, causing our landlord to put up a list of rules in the house and regard us with more wariness. New roommate likes to party with us. Old Roommate spoke minimal english and just laughed every time she did not understand anything rather than ask for clarification. New Roommate is American and enjoys conversing. Old Roommate made herself rice seemingly every meal and took it to her room to eat by herself. New Roommate eats with all of us and we have all taken turns making meals each night this week. In short, the house is pretty much perfect now. One French man (Etienne), one French woman (Audrey), and two North Americans (me and New Roommate aka Jessie). Another bonus is that we all have partners back home so nobody is trying to get into anybody else's pants (although I do worry about Etienne sometimes.)
In all seriousness, Etienne and I have become very good friends. We are similar in a lot of ways. He has a very dry and witty sense of humour, much like me. His viewpoint on life is that we should try to be successful but not take ourselves too seriously, much like me. And he also has the highest marks at his business school in France, much like Jesse Spano in Saved by the Bell.
Etienne and I have had some fun times playing pranks as well. When our other roommate Audrey first moved in, she had a surprise waiting for her when she woke up. This surprise was that she could not leave her room because there was a large table, a dresser, two chairs, a vacuum cleaner, and an ironing board stacked against her door. I've also missed a train because I couldn't find any of my three pairs of shoes that Etienne had decided to hide in various locations throughout the house.* Every night we sit out on the porch and have a beer, have a good talk, and marvel at the fact that we are in Australia.
Last week, I informed you that I got a job. However, I never informed you what I will be doing in this job. What if I told you that I am working for Villeroy and Boch, the world's oldest purveyor of fine china and silverware? I can sell a single plate worth $80 or a cutlery set for $600. This is some seriously fancy stuff. As you may or may not be aware, I am not the most nimble and coordinated individual, so I am slightly terrified that I will break something. On the bright side, it would make for a great blog post. I'll keep you posted.
I am not doing anything too exciting as of yet, but only 3 weeks til Ash, Chris, and Sean come and I will be travelling all around Australia. I have been looking into different destinations and prices and it is getting me very, very excited. A couple days ago I was at a travel agency obtaining some information on an island to which I may or may not want to travel. I asked if I could just rough it on the island instead of staying in a hostel. The man informed me that I would have to have some advanced outdoorsman skills. I told him not to worry, as I lived on an island for an extended period of time. He said, "Oh really? What island was that?" I replied, "Have you seen Castaway?"
Just to let you know, a couple hours south of Brisbane there is a beach town called Byron Bay. The population of Byron Bay is comprised of mainly backpackers and free spirits, if you will. I have yet to venture there, but I think I know when I may go there. There is an annual festival held there called Mardi Grass. That extra 'S' in grass was not a typo. This year, Mardi Grass will be held on May 3rd and 4th. I don't condone illicit drugs or the glorification of addictive substances. But I am just a tourist and I owe it to myself to see what the fuss is all about. I hope all the kids there aren't in the throes of Reefer Madness!
That about wraps it up, my friends. It's been nice chatting with you. I like this blog format because I get to do all the talking and I don't have to pretend I find you interesting. That's not directed at all of you, just Chris.
'Til next time!
*I know I did not tell you what my retaliation was for Etienne hiding my shoes. This is because it was not quite as detailed and elaborate as his prank. After a week of eating too many beans and drinking a lot of milk, I had some remarkably putrid flatulence. With this tool at my disposal, I walked up to Etienne, barehugged him, and farted several times. He could not escape my vise-like grip and his intense struggling soon dimmed to faint kicks and tiny little whimpers. I released him before he could be granted the sweet mercy of death.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
A Walk to Remember
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)
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)
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
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