Overdelayed delayed...stuff.
These are 6 blog posts typed on the laptop during random midnight hours and on the planes and buses that were necessary to bring me to where I am today. Forgive me if the thoughts sound disjointed. I've got 14 ish posts all together so bear with me ya?
EDIT: If you've read up to the Indiana Jones part of the post, please scroll down and continue. I've just uploaded 5 more entries for your reading pleasure. +D
31/12/08
There's so many things to dream about. So many things to do and be and want to be.
But now, I feel as though I'm stuck in a dream. I'm stuck in that haze that you get when you wake up from a midafternoon nap. Like you're suspended in reality.
You're halfway between the real world and the fantasy world that you've just woken up from.
Mouth a little dry and head starting to pound.
You look outside and the sky is still bright but yet you feel as though you've lost a sense of timing. Whether it is 10am or 3pm, doesn't really matter to you anymore. You can't be bothered to give a shit.
Seemingly unintelligent words spill from my fingers. An urgency that I don't really understand make me type faster, as though I am facing my impending doom and yet, I don't realise that the Grim Reaper's scythe hangs above my neck. All I do is sit here and type. And type and type and type.
The laptop burns hot. It sears my groin where it sits, a comfortable burning pain that you know if increased another two degrees Celsius, will be uncomfortable.
I am not used to typing on this keyboard anymore. It feels big, cumbersome, unwieldly, too far to reach. I am now familiar with the small keys and the clackety-clacks of the Aspire.
The cotton wool sensation in my head is annoying. But as I sit here, I hear the occasional beep of the smoke detector and the distant drone of cars and someone coughing. My fingers fly across the keys, knowing where its headed but making oh so many mistakes it isn't funny.
Today is the last day of the year.
It is the end of 2008. And the herald for 2009.
I have cleaning to do. Oh dear lord.
I want to sniff books and smell the ancient smell of used text that people have picked up and read and flipped and dog-eared and marked and jotted down and scribbled in. The scent of a loved book is sometimes better than the fresh factory scent of a newly manufactured book off the press, still hot from impressing ink.
Being without internet is FUCKING annoying. But I'm not sure where else I can claim wifi from.
I sit alone at home with the beeping smoke detector and my luggage strewn across the sofa. That's all my worldly belongings. Plus minus a box or two.
I like doing this. Typing down my random thoughts and little little things that I'm pondering.
I wonder whether tomorrow will be a good day. I want it to be cloudy and a bit cold so that I can wrap up and have less clothes to carry in my bag. But Wanganui? I hardly doubt that, Probably blisteringly hot. I hope I can get a train. To Palmerston North, of course. But I'm not sure how to go about booking it.
I need to prepare myself for actual actual work on Monday. oh FUCKING SHIT.
If I am a smoker, I would probably need a cigarette at the moment. Just to get a hang on things, a perspective.
Family left today. And as glad as I am to see them go, you know the whole familiarity breeds contempt thing, I am not used to the quietness of the house. I am not used to being on my own.
I hope that one day, I could likely say that I am not used to being with people. A hermit's life for me!
I really really need to start cleaning up.
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Smile and you break my heart
Its nearly the end of 2008. Nearly the end of December. Nearly the end of my life as it is in Dunny.
I shall be moving to WangyWangy on New Year's Day. And then I'll be making my way up by plane, bus, whatnot. I'm kind of excited. I wonder what's in store for me.
I've also gotten my registration certificate as well as a document called APC (Annual Practising Certificate) that allows me to practise in my chosen field of work. I feel all grown up all of a sudden.
In a way, I'm still wondering what is possibly in store for me. And I wonder whether this coming year will promise new changes or new challenges or will it change me literally to the point where I wouldn't recognise myself when I type my year end entry for 2009.
"Make Me Sweat" still plays in the background. Its very 1950s. Very....elegantly sensual. Maybe I should change the introduction. Or something.
Was flipping through a motivational book lying on a shelf and I came across the idea that if you are able to take into control your fears, desires, the things that happen around you, you could change your life. And I wondered about whether I could make that kind of life change. Whether I was able to make everything happen. If only I just took control. If only I just put a bridle around the rearing head of my life and take charge...for once.
Sometimes, I feel as though I'm pretty much just floating around and letting myself be carried on the waves of Life. That I sail along with the waves and the tides, following wherever it leads me, just floating along. Hopelessly. If the waves crash, I sink and I float and I get tossed by the storms that hit me again and again.
My personal demons have never really gone away, has it?
But I'm going to take a hold of myself. And make me happen.
I need to. I must.
I'm growing up.
If not, I'm grown up then. And its about damn time that I play the part.
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And with a burst of light, its over.
And in comes in 2009.
Amid the drunken throng who yelled and cheered as pyrotechnicians lit thousands of fireworks above us, the brightly burning 2009 numbers emblazoned themselves in my memory.
Sis pats my shoulder, "Your first working year."
Yeah, I know. Can't forget that now, can we?
Ash fell onto the waiting crowds' heads as we stood close enough that the ashes from the fireworks fell like out of season snow. The air was tinged with the smell of alcohol. Among strangers' faces, I saw some that I recognised. Some from school, some from work, some from Health Science, some from physio. A band played "Auld Lang Syne " and the crowd mumbled along. Probably too inebriated.
The atmosphere was warm. Very summery. As it should be.
Standing in shorts and a t-shirt, I held my phone up long enough to take pictures of the spectacle at the Octagon to get a sore shoulder from keeping it up that way for 5 minutes. Wow. First time I've actually ever attended a New Year's Eve celebration.
And somehow...you seem to be missing.
You should have been there with me. You should have been by my side.
But you weren't. And I wondered for a moment what you were doing at that very second when the clock struck twelve.
Hm.
As much as I have feigned disinterest at relationships, I sometimes wonder. A man can wonder, can't he? I wonder what it would be like to have walked together with you, hand in hand, to our special little place to watch the fireworks. Holding you close as you shiver against the cold or probably protest against the additional bodyheat. And as the fireworks lit the sky, I wonder how the lights would have sparkled in your eyes. And the curve of your smile as I kissed your lips and murmured a little "Happy New Year" into your ear.
And in our little secret spot, you would snuggle up against me as I pulled you close and together, we would watch the lights explode until there was no more light and once again, we were back into the darkness.
But a dream is a dream is a dream.
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Oxymoronic Weather
The cheeriness of the morning does not match my mood.
The sun is out, the skies blue, patches of light grey clouds floating past. The ground remains wet from what obviously looks like morning dew but the sun seems relentless enough to start drying sunspots on the road where it is not shaded by the trees.
Today is the day of the big move. And I've just woken up and put my sleeping gear away.
This is it, Poet. This is the biggest step I've taken so far and God knows where I'll end up because of it.
A new Year, Poet. A new start. A new slate. A new time to disappear.
A time to begin anew. A time to try and leave the mistakes of the past behind and try and run as far away as I can.
I know this is futile. As it always is. After all, we are all taught to learn from our mistakes, not run as far away as we can. My train of thought is obviously flawed philosophy.
When I woke up this morning, one of the thoughts that crossed my mind was that I was literally scared shitless. I'm going to actually work on Monday. I wonder whether it would be like the hospital where I am supervised constantly for the first week or so and then am I going to get chucked into the deep end?
I don't know.
Well, 4 more days and then I'll know for sure.
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I'm on the plane right now heading for Wellington, about ?30? minutes into the flight. Thank God for small laptops.
After being served a rather saltier-than-usual pack of chips and a mildly diluted tea, I'm starting to get bored. I want to watch my movie but I don't have a pair of headphones and of course, I'm not sure I want the sounds of "Pink Panther" echoing throughout the Boeing 737. Talk about bad preparation for things.
In a way, it still feels really surreal. I can't believe I'm actually flying up to my first real real real job. I'm going to get paid for this. And in a sizable amount too.
A text I got from Sis who saw me off at the airport stated, "Bye bye...my little bro is all grown up now."
Yeah, grown up. Interesting concept. More like grow old. I'm still very immature in my own head.
But it should be okay, right? I mean, when I get down at the airport, first things first, I'm going to head to the railway station and see if I can book anything. I need to get to Palmy as soon as possible. Was hoping to take a walk around town but now, I'm seriously doubting if anything is open at all. Shit.
Worst case scenario, I'll end up spending the night in Wellington and hopefully, find my own way up to Wangy tomorrow.
The airplane noise is very loud. Even with my own one functioning ear, I'm thinking its loud. I'm thankful that I only have one functioning ear. Would have hated to deal with noise coming into both ears.
Oh, just talking about ears, I told the truth on my job contract. Well...not so much truth rather than actually admitting that I am half deaf instead of omitting out that little detail. With previous jobs, I've never actually made known the little fact about my little disability. After all, catching mumps at the tender age of 2 and then learning to deal with a bung ear kinda makes you adapt pretty quickly to the fact that all sound seems to be coming from the right ear. I wonder what the other people are going to say. Advice was to actually get hearing aids but seriously? I would think twice about being treated by someone who walked in with a hearing aid. I might even start speaking slower. But then again, that's prejudice, isn't it? And I can't do that. And I hope other people don't do that to me as well. Who knows, I might look extremely *ahem* distinguished with wires coming out of my ears.
A year up in WangyWangy. I wonder how I'm going to change. And if I do, would I change for better or for worse?
In a way, I'm glad that I have left both Dunny and Welly behind. No doubt, I was keen on staying at both places as they are absolutely amazing for dance but to actually stay there? Really? I left both places for different reasons and ironically enough, I'm ending up in a place that doesn't even have dancing. Maybe its a good thing.
But then again, who knows, right? Who knows.
I really like the idea of not having a direct internet connection that I can get to. I also like the fact that I've written 4 blog posts within a relatively short period of time. This is my second time blogging today. I've got a lot to post up when I finally get back online.
But in a way, I'm glad I don't have to deal with Internet.
BUT watch me. As I get into Wellington Airport, the first thing I'll be doing is fumbling for the wireless switch on the laptop and trying to pick up a connection. Which I probably won't get. But will try anyway.
The little screens above the passenger's head in front of me is flashing random trivia questions. And I have to put away this laptop because we're landing in 5 mins time.
Talk soon.
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Here I am, sitting and even possibly slumming it out on a metal bench at the Welly Railway Station. Apparently, there are no trains heading up to Palmy so I have to make do with a train. Last bus ride I took...well, lets just say I left it in a worst state when I first got on.
The sky is a light baby blue. Wisps of cloud whisk by quickly and again, I am reminded of why this city is known as the Windy Capital. The winds are fierce and mercilessly so. I've got about 40 minutes wait or possibly even 10 minutes if the bus comes early.
As I rushed through the city from the airport to the railway station, I thought that I would have missed Wellington. That I would gaze out the window, familiar at the sight and even a bit teary-eyed. Slightly prodigal son come home, kinda thing. But no.
My eyes were dry as a bone and I couldn't care less. Even when the shuttle drove past the Basin Reserve, I can still imagine walking through it to town, to breakfast or lunch, to dinner, to buy groceries, to dance. Memories indeed.
And as we turned up the road going around the Basin, I remembered all the moments I climbed that little incline to go to the Warehouse, for dance practice with the DancingSoftwareDeveloper, to go to Cuba Street for breakfast with the Sociologist.
And passing the flat....sigh.
In all honesty, I am glad I am not living there anymore. In all honesty, as much as that is "home" in a way and I actually still have a box of things there that I need to pick up, I'm glad this, Welly, is no more called home.
Sis mentioned off-handedly to me that she was proud of how I seemed to travel everywhere on my own, expanding out and heading off elsewhere rather than just Dunny which has been her home for the past 8 years. Truth to tell, I was always a bit of a quiet, self-keeping introvert who would rather stay home and be "at home" rather than head out and start adventuring. And to be perfectly honest, I've always been a bit of a mummy's boy.
But my first step out of Dunny which led me to Welly last year was probably the best thing I could have done, I felt. I learnt to live on my own and deal with things on my own. A lot of...what I would like to term "hoohaas". Apparently, one thing that pissed people off more than I thought it would was my state of cleanliness. Yup...that still needs a bit of taking care of.
And after that first step, I felt that I was ready to head off elsewhere.
Had a chat to Dad yesterday on the phone while he was in the City of Sails and he mentioned that I might want to look at heading up that way in a year or two's time. And I was thinking about it too. After all, the better the weather, the better my health. I'm that kinda guy. No winters for me, please. Snowmen and snow can stay in the fridge or the Artic Circle.
Its very surreal, still. I'm here, in Welly, sitting on a cold, green (I think its green...maybe bluish green?) bench and typing this and waiting for my bus further north to get here.
Me, the adventurer. Very Indiana Jones. Now all I need is a dusty, desert hat, the Holy Grail, and several Nazi military types to beat up.
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Funny that.
Funny how life works in general, for that matter.
Funny that I sat down and the first thing I thought was that this was your seat. Last year.
You sat here, remember?
When you said you got bus-sick on long trips and no one wanted to sit next to you, I did, remember? I even brought a plastic bag, remember?
Don't think you do.
Anyway, a funny though that came to mind was that the last time I rode on this route, I was heading to Levin. Gosh, good times. Or maybe not. It feels really weird and I've slept long enough that the back of my neck hurts now. I'm trying to keep awake. And its kinda working. We're outside a little town known as Otaki and there's a little girl playing Pokemon on her Nintendo Wii. And as half deaf as I am, I can still hear the wee little whistles and jingles as whatever animal it is now fights a baddie. Did I mention she has her earphones on?
I'm pretty keen to keep uploading pictures so that you, dear readers, get a slight idea of what's going on. But I think, as they say, that a picture is worth a thousand words so to completely challenge my literary skills, I'll try and make up that quota. Actually, come to think of it, I probably have about two to three good pictures now? +)
And come to think of it, I have a habit of speaking too soon. I'm now staring at the New World in Levin where I last swore to the Brit that I never want to see again. Oh well...tough shit.
Another hour or so to Palmy then. Looks like I'll be arriving early evening. Thank goodness for summery months where the sun sets at 10 instead of 5.
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Odd.
I'm in a room that's probably more suited for a couple. Double bed, with red satin sheets. Relatively wrong considering I'm on my own. It's been a while.
Well, not really. I've never been in THAT kinda situation before. But you know, yeah...
Its 12.09a.m. and I'm in some random place above a bar. Well, not really random either. The bar offers accommodation so I'm taking it. Beggars can't be choosers, right? But then again, I'm not really begging. Shit, I'm not making any sense anymore, am I?
And I really don't like this keyboard. I feel as though I have to stretch for everything. Fingers are feeling a bit odd for that matter. But then again, I guess I have to make do with this new keyboard since I'll be switching between mini and mega.
There's something really rustic about blogging on Notepad. Especially since there's no frills attached and everything is made really really simple. And like, there's no chance of attaching pictures so basically, its the words that keep readers reading.
Its a cold night tonight. Well, not exactly cold. But its fricking hot in the room and my window is opened up wide. Took a few pictures. What's quite awesome is that my room leads to a balcony and there's a street lamp casting beautiful shadows.
I don't feel like going to sleep tonight but I know I need to. I know that tomorrows going to be a big day for me, what with meeting everyone and getting to know the hospital and all. I still don't want to go to sleep. I want to keep awake. I am still, after all, a creature of the night.
On a completely different note...
You don't deserve this. You don't deserve to take the shit that my life brings along with me. I know. I'm sorry. As much as I would like to make your life that much better, I can't. Because I know I don't want to make your life miserable. I have lived a life that I think is flawed in more ways than one. And asking for redemption doesn't seem to quite do it.
Forgiveness. Just another concept.
We're only human, after all. Asking for forgiveness sometimes seems nigh impossible. And to give it...well. If I wouldn't give it, I highly doubt someone else will. And I am a pretty forgiving guy. Except for some people.
Huh.
You know what would make this night a little bit better?
A rich, red, tango. Outside. Right now. Right here. On the streets. On the balcony. Where we dance to the bandoneon and the piano and the strings as they play a soulful, mellow, melody. Where we move and the steps don't count. The beat doesn't count. Forget the beat. Just move. With me. As one person. One body. One soul.
Feel the passion with me. Feel the richness of the music as its melancholic aura washes over you. Making you clean. Drenching you in the romance of the moment.
Make it happen. With me.
Right here. Right now.
What's life without a little spontaneity, eh?
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Today is the day.
Today is the day that I turn up at the door and get acquainted with my new life.
Gosh, I'm a bit excited.
But here, I sit, waking up at the ungodly time of 8.18a.m. when I actually slept at 2 the night before. I'm going to be extremely tired tonight. And I really am not looking forward to starting work on time. Bleh.
The weather is a bit overcast today. Streaks of grey mixed with the baby blue of yesterday. The roads are very quiet. This is Palmy North on New Year's. Um. Yeah.
Current itinerary for today consists of me getting a coach up to Wangy and getting dropped off at the hospital so I can say hello. I'm quite looking forward to it.
But first, breakfast. And then I'll blog if I feel like it.
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Just because its me.
As I walked around WangyWangy today, I got three different kind of greetings from complete strangers.
One was a big native dude who mouthed out, "Hey, Ching Chong, why don't you go back to your own country!" while pedalling on what looked like a little kid's bike. Jerkoff.
Second was a white short car which honked, albeit in a rather friendly way and a woman sitting in the front seat waved to me as though she has never seen an Asian person before.
Third was a car that honked in a relatively menacing way, in the kind of way that makes you jump as you don't expect it and them grinning as they zoom past you.
Why, oh why, do I need to get such treatment?
To the dude on the bike, I would have shouted, "I contribute more to this country than you on the dole, fuckface!" But of course, I didn't want to die so soon. And I did promise family that I would take care of myself when I live here alone.
To the two others in their cars, I wish I had a Bigfoot that I could use to crush them underneath my monster wheels. But that is fantasy too. And I might need to add that I don't drive. Oh the shame.
I'm currently rewatching Chuck Palahnik's "Fight Club". There's something very moving and very psychological about it. It technically can be used as something for modern literature dissection. Hm.
A pretty useful line.
Its only after we've lost everything that we're free to do anything - Tyler Durden
Its true, isn't it?
I have just finished watching the scene where Tyler takes a convenience store owner out back and threatens to kill him if the owner does not go and pursue past dream of becoming a vet.
And the scene where Tyler drives into the opposite lane and asks if you were going to die, what would you have wished you had done.
What would you wish you had done?
Or am I just becoming too bohemian right now? Too hippy? Too philosophical? Too...bullshit?
Is it true that after everything has been taken away from you, then you are free to do whatever you want?
Can a parallel truth be drawn from the fact that we need to be truly broken in order to be able to have total dependence on God? Or a deity if you believe otherwise?
Or shall we draw the idea that we need to stop caring? Or stop living? To die. In order to live.
Man, this is getting nowhere. Or maybe its heading someplace but its not making any sense at all.
In the event of this happening, I'm going to bed.
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So work wasn't as bad as I thought. Although I did wish deep down inside that I was so much more busier than I
actually was. I kept dozing off reading Brukner and Khan this afternoon. Boring stuff, really.
I'm still "internetless". Oh dear. I thought that when I started a job, I would have internet access at the tips of
my fingers and I would be able to blog like crazy. But oh, no, I'm still stuck on Notepad and typing this on my
laptop. In that case, I might as well just stop blogging since I'll be doing all of this on Notepad anyway. And its
wayy more accessible compared to an internet connection.
My colleagues are nice, friendly, and they try and make me feel as welcome as possible. Which is really good.
I'm still trying to cope with getting used to the hospital setting and what not. I'm going to be seeing my first
real patient on Thursday morning. 44 year old lady, should be interesting one way or another.
You know, I actually think that I've become more boring once I've started working. I know of many bloggers who
literally swear to stop blogging once they start work because they're in a different mindset. And all that jazz,
anyway.
Work tires you out. It tires me out anyway. When I got home, all I could really do was just sit and stare at the
computer screen. Played Diablo II for about half an hour and then went to bed. And woke up to various phone calls
from friends and family and then went back to bed again. What a day.
If this is working life for the rest of my life, someone shoot me. Now. Pweese?
EDIT: If you've read up to the Indiana Jones part of the post, please scroll down and continue. I've just uploaded 5 more entries for your reading pleasure. +D
31/12/08
There's so many things to dream about. So many things to do and be and want to be.
But now, I feel as though I'm stuck in a dream. I'm stuck in that haze that you get when you wake up from a midafternoon nap. Like you're suspended in reality.
You're halfway between the real world and the fantasy world that you've just woken up from.
Mouth a little dry and head starting to pound.
You look outside and the sky is still bright but yet you feel as though you've lost a sense of timing. Whether it is 10am or 3pm, doesn't really matter to you anymore. You can't be bothered to give a shit.
Seemingly unintelligent words spill from my fingers. An urgency that I don't really understand make me type faster, as though I am facing my impending doom and yet, I don't realise that the Grim Reaper's scythe hangs above my neck. All I do is sit here and type. And type and type and type.
The laptop burns hot. It sears my groin where it sits, a comfortable burning pain that you know if increased another two degrees Celsius, will be uncomfortable.
I am not used to typing on this keyboard anymore. It feels big, cumbersome, unwieldly, too far to reach. I am now familiar with the small keys and the clackety-clacks of the Aspire.
The cotton wool sensation in my head is annoying. But as I sit here, I hear the occasional beep of the smoke detector and the distant drone of cars and someone coughing. My fingers fly across the keys, knowing where its headed but making oh so many mistakes it isn't funny.
Today is the last day of the year.
It is the end of 2008. And the herald for 2009.
I have cleaning to do. Oh dear lord.
I want to sniff books and smell the ancient smell of used text that people have picked up and read and flipped and dog-eared and marked and jotted down and scribbled in. The scent of a loved book is sometimes better than the fresh factory scent of a newly manufactured book off the press, still hot from impressing ink.
Being without internet is FUCKING annoying. But I'm not sure where else I can claim wifi from.
I sit alone at home with the beeping smoke detector and my luggage strewn across the sofa. That's all my worldly belongings. Plus minus a box or two.
I like doing this. Typing down my random thoughts and little little things that I'm pondering.
I wonder whether tomorrow will be a good day. I want it to be cloudy and a bit cold so that I can wrap up and have less clothes to carry in my bag. But Wanganui? I hardly doubt that, Probably blisteringly hot. I hope I can get a train. To Palmerston North, of course. But I'm not sure how to go about booking it.
I need to prepare myself for actual actual work on Monday. oh FUCKING SHIT.
If I am a smoker, I would probably need a cigarette at the moment. Just to get a hang on things, a perspective.
Family left today. And as glad as I am to see them go, you know the whole familiarity breeds contempt thing, I am not used to the quietness of the house. I am not used to being on my own.
I hope that one day, I could likely say that I am not used to being with people. A hermit's life for me!
I really really need to start cleaning up.
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Smile and you break my heart
Its nearly the end of 2008. Nearly the end of December. Nearly the end of my life as it is in Dunny.
I shall be moving to WangyWangy on New Year's Day. And then I'll be making my way up by plane, bus, whatnot. I'm kind of excited. I wonder what's in store for me.
I've also gotten my registration certificate as well as a document called APC (Annual Practising Certificate) that allows me to practise in my chosen field of work. I feel all grown up all of a sudden.
In a way, I'm still wondering what is possibly in store for me. And I wonder whether this coming year will promise new changes or new challenges or will it change me literally to the point where I wouldn't recognise myself when I type my year end entry for 2009.
"Make Me Sweat" still plays in the background. Its very 1950s. Very....elegantly sensual. Maybe I should change the introduction. Or something.
Was flipping through a motivational book lying on a shelf and I came across the idea that if you are able to take into control your fears, desires, the things that happen around you, you could change your life. And I wondered about whether I could make that kind of life change. Whether I was able to make everything happen. If only I just took control. If only I just put a bridle around the rearing head of my life and take charge...for once.
Sometimes, I feel as though I'm pretty much just floating around and letting myself be carried on the waves of Life. That I sail along with the waves and the tides, following wherever it leads me, just floating along. Hopelessly. If the waves crash, I sink and I float and I get tossed by the storms that hit me again and again.
My personal demons have never really gone away, has it?
But I'm going to take a hold of myself. And make me happen.
I need to. I must.
I'm growing up.
If not, I'm grown up then. And its about damn time that I play the part.
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And with a burst of light, its over.
And in comes in 2009.
Amid the drunken throng who yelled and cheered as pyrotechnicians lit thousands of fireworks above us, the brightly burning 2009 numbers emblazoned themselves in my memory.
Sis pats my shoulder, "Your first working year."
Yeah, I know. Can't forget that now, can we?
Ash fell onto the waiting crowds' heads as we stood close enough that the ashes from the fireworks fell like out of season snow. The air was tinged with the smell of alcohol. Among strangers' faces, I saw some that I recognised. Some from school, some from work, some from Health Science, some from physio. A band played "Auld Lang Syne " and the crowd mumbled along. Probably too inebriated.
The atmosphere was warm. Very summery. As it should be.
Standing in shorts and a t-shirt, I held my phone up long enough to take pictures of the spectacle at the Octagon to get a sore shoulder from keeping it up that way for 5 minutes. Wow. First time I've actually ever attended a New Year's Eve celebration.
And somehow...you seem to be missing.
You should have been there with me. You should have been by my side.
But you weren't. And I wondered for a moment what you were doing at that very second when the clock struck twelve.
Hm.
As much as I have feigned disinterest at relationships, I sometimes wonder. A man can wonder, can't he? I wonder what it would be like to have walked together with you, hand in hand, to our special little place to watch the fireworks. Holding you close as you shiver against the cold or probably protest against the additional bodyheat. And as the fireworks lit the sky, I wonder how the lights would have sparkled in your eyes. And the curve of your smile as I kissed your lips and murmured a little "Happy New Year" into your ear.
And in our little secret spot, you would snuggle up against me as I pulled you close and together, we would watch the lights explode until there was no more light and once again, we were back into the darkness.
But a dream is a dream is a dream.
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Oxymoronic Weather
The cheeriness of the morning does not match my mood.
The sun is out, the skies blue, patches of light grey clouds floating past. The ground remains wet from what obviously looks like morning dew but the sun seems relentless enough to start drying sunspots on the road where it is not shaded by the trees.
Today is the day of the big move. And I've just woken up and put my sleeping gear away.
This is it, Poet. This is the biggest step I've taken so far and God knows where I'll end up because of it.
A new Year, Poet. A new start. A new slate. A new time to disappear.
A time to begin anew. A time to try and leave the mistakes of the past behind and try and run as far away as I can.
I know this is futile. As it always is. After all, we are all taught to learn from our mistakes, not run as far away as we can. My train of thought is obviously flawed philosophy.
When I woke up this morning, one of the thoughts that crossed my mind was that I was literally scared shitless. I'm going to actually work on Monday. I wonder whether it would be like the hospital where I am supervised constantly for the first week or so and then am I going to get chucked into the deep end?
I don't know.
Well, 4 more days and then I'll know for sure.
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I'm on the plane right now heading for Wellington, about ?30? minutes into the flight. Thank God for small laptops.
After being served a rather saltier-than-usual pack of chips and a mildly diluted tea, I'm starting to get bored. I want to watch my movie but I don't have a pair of headphones and of course, I'm not sure I want the sounds of "Pink Panther" echoing throughout the Boeing 737. Talk about bad preparation for things.
In a way, it still feels really surreal. I can't believe I'm actually flying up to my first real real real job. I'm going to get paid for this. And in a sizable amount too.
A text I got from Sis who saw me off at the airport stated, "Bye bye...my little bro is all grown up now."
Yeah, grown up. Interesting concept. More like grow old. I'm still very immature in my own head.
But it should be okay, right? I mean, when I get down at the airport, first things first, I'm going to head to the railway station and see if I can book anything. I need to get to Palmy as soon as possible. Was hoping to take a walk around town but now, I'm seriously doubting if anything is open at all. Shit.
Worst case scenario, I'll end up spending the night in Wellington and hopefully, find my own way up to Wangy tomorrow.
The airplane noise is very loud. Even with my own one functioning ear, I'm thinking its loud. I'm thankful that I only have one functioning ear. Would have hated to deal with noise coming into both ears.
Oh, just talking about ears, I told the truth on my job contract. Well...not so much truth rather than actually admitting that I am half deaf instead of omitting out that little detail. With previous jobs, I've never actually made known the little fact about my little disability. After all, catching mumps at the tender age of 2 and then learning to deal with a bung ear kinda makes you adapt pretty quickly to the fact that all sound seems to be coming from the right ear. I wonder what the other people are going to say. Advice was to actually get hearing aids but seriously? I would think twice about being treated by someone who walked in with a hearing aid. I might even start speaking slower. But then again, that's prejudice, isn't it? And I can't do that. And I hope other people don't do that to me as well. Who knows, I might look extremely *ahem* distinguished with wires coming out of my ears.
A year up in WangyWangy. I wonder how I'm going to change. And if I do, would I change for better or for worse?
In a way, I'm glad that I have left both Dunny and Welly behind. No doubt, I was keen on staying at both places as they are absolutely amazing for dance but to actually stay there? Really? I left both places for different reasons and ironically enough, I'm ending up in a place that doesn't even have dancing. Maybe its a good thing.
But then again, who knows, right? Who knows.
I really like the idea of not having a direct internet connection that I can get to. I also like the fact that I've written 4 blog posts within a relatively short period of time. This is my second time blogging today. I've got a lot to post up when I finally get back online.
But in a way, I'm glad I don't have to deal with Internet.
BUT watch me. As I get into Wellington Airport, the first thing I'll be doing is fumbling for the wireless switch on the laptop and trying to pick up a connection. Which I probably won't get. But will try anyway.
The little screens above the passenger's head in front of me is flashing random trivia questions. And I have to put away this laptop because we're landing in 5 mins time.
Talk soon.
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Here I am, sitting and even possibly slumming it out on a metal bench at the Welly Railway Station. Apparently, there are no trains heading up to Palmy so I have to make do with a train. Last bus ride I took...well, lets just say I left it in a worst state when I first got on.
The sky is a light baby blue. Wisps of cloud whisk by quickly and again, I am reminded of why this city is known as the Windy Capital. The winds are fierce and mercilessly so. I've got about 40 minutes wait or possibly even 10 minutes if the bus comes early.
As I rushed through the city from the airport to the railway station, I thought that I would have missed Wellington. That I would gaze out the window, familiar at the sight and even a bit teary-eyed. Slightly prodigal son come home, kinda thing. But no.
My eyes were dry as a bone and I couldn't care less. Even when the shuttle drove past the Basin Reserve, I can still imagine walking through it to town, to breakfast or lunch, to dinner, to buy groceries, to dance. Memories indeed.
And as we turned up the road going around the Basin, I remembered all the moments I climbed that little incline to go to the Warehouse, for dance practice with the DancingSoftwareDeveloper, to go to Cuba Street for breakfast with the Sociologist.
And passing the flat....sigh.
In all honesty, I am glad I am not living there anymore. In all honesty, as much as that is "home" in a way and I actually still have a box of things there that I need to pick up, I'm glad this, Welly, is no more called home.
Sis mentioned off-handedly to me that she was proud of how I seemed to travel everywhere on my own, expanding out and heading off elsewhere rather than just Dunny which has been her home for the past 8 years. Truth to tell, I was always a bit of a quiet, self-keeping introvert who would rather stay home and be "at home" rather than head out and start adventuring. And to be perfectly honest, I've always been a bit of a mummy's boy.
But my first step out of Dunny which led me to Welly last year was probably the best thing I could have done, I felt. I learnt to live on my own and deal with things on my own. A lot of...what I would like to term "hoohaas". Apparently, one thing that pissed people off more than I thought it would was my state of cleanliness. Yup...that still needs a bit of taking care of.
And after that first step, I felt that I was ready to head off elsewhere.
Had a chat to Dad yesterday on the phone while he was in the City of Sails and he mentioned that I might want to look at heading up that way in a year or two's time. And I was thinking about it too. After all, the better the weather, the better my health. I'm that kinda guy. No winters for me, please. Snowmen and snow can stay in the fridge or the Artic Circle.
Its very surreal, still. I'm here, in Welly, sitting on a cold, green (I think its green...maybe bluish green?) bench and typing this and waiting for my bus further north to get here.
Me, the adventurer. Very Indiana Jones. Now all I need is a dusty, desert hat, the Holy Grail, and several Nazi military types to beat up.
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Funny that.
Funny how life works in general, for that matter.
Funny that I sat down and the first thing I thought was that this was your seat. Last year.
You sat here, remember?
When you said you got bus-sick on long trips and no one wanted to sit next to you, I did, remember? I even brought a plastic bag, remember?
Don't think you do.
Anyway, a funny though that came to mind was that the last time I rode on this route, I was heading to Levin. Gosh, good times. Or maybe not. It feels really weird and I've slept long enough that the back of my neck hurts now. I'm trying to keep awake. And its kinda working. We're outside a little town known as Otaki and there's a little girl playing Pokemon on her Nintendo Wii. And as half deaf as I am, I can still hear the wee little whistles and jingles as whatever animal it is now fights a baddie. Did I mention she has her earphones on?
I'm pretty keen to keep uploading pictures so that you, dear readers, get a slight idea of what's going on. But I think, as they say, that a picture is worth a thousand words so to completely challenge my literary skills, I'll try and make up that quota. Actually, come to think of it, I probably have about two to three good pictures now? +)
And come to think of it, I have a habit of speaking too soon. I'm now staring at the New World in Levin where I last swore to the Brit that I never want to see again. Oh well...tough shit.
Another hour or so to Palmy then. Looks like I'll be arriving early evening. Thank goodness for summery months where the sun sets at 10 instead of 5.
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Odd.
I'm in a room that's probably more suited for a couple. Double bed, with red satin sheets. Relatively wrong considering I'm on my own. It's been a while.
Well, not really. I've never been in THAT kinda situation before. But you know, yeah...
Its 12.09a.m. and I'm in some random place above a bar. Well, not really random either. The bar offers accommodation so I'm taking it. Beggars can't be choosers, right? But then again, I'm not really begging. Shit, I'm not making any sense anymore, am I?
And I really don't like this keyboard. I feel as though I have to stretch for everything. Fingers are feeling a bit odd for that matter. But then again, I guess I have to make do with this new keyboard since I'll be switching between mini and mega.
There's something really rustic about blogging on Notepad. Especially since there's no frills attached and everything is made really really simple. And like, there's no chance of attaching pictures so basically, its the words that keep readers reading.
Its a cold night tonight. Well, not exactly cold. But its fricking hot in the room and my window is opened up wide. Took a few pictures. What's quite awesome is that my room leads to a balcony and there's a street lamp casting beautiful shadows.
I don't feel like going to sleep tonight but I know I need to. I know that tomorrows going to be a big day for me, what with meeting everyone and getting to know the hospital and all. I still don't want to go to sleep. I want to keep awake. I am still, after all, a creature of the night.
On a completely different note...
You don't deserve this. You don't deserve to take the shit that my life brings along with me. I know. I'm sorry. As much as I would like to make your life that much better, I can't. Because I know I don't want to make your life miserable. I have lived a life that I think is flawed in more ways than one. And asking for redemption doesn't seem to quite do it.
Forgiveness. Just another concept.
We're only human, after all. Asking for forgiveness sometimes seems nigh impossible. And to give it...well. If I wouldn't give it, I highly doubt someone else will. And I am a pretty forgiving guy. Except for some people.
Huh.
You know what would make this night a little bit better?
A rich, red, tango. Outside. Right now. Right here. On the streets. On the balcony. Where we dance to the bandoneon and the piano and the strings as they play a soulful, mellow, melody. Where we move and the steps don't count. The beat doesn't count. Forget the beat. Just move. With me. As one person. One body. One soul.
Feel the passion with me. Feel the richness of the music as its melancholic aura washes over you. Making you clean. Drenching you in the romance of the moment.
Make it happen. With me.
Right here. Right now.
What's life without a little spontaneity, eh?
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Today is the day.
Today is the day that I turn up at the door and get acquainted with my new life.
Gosh, I'm a bit excited.
But here, I sit, waking up at the ungodly time of 8.18a.m. when I actually slept at 2 the night before. I'm going to be extremely tired tonight. And I really am not looking forward to starting work on time. Bleh.
The weather is a bit overcast today. Streaks of grey mixed with the baby blue of yesterday. The roads are very quiet. This is Palmy North on New Year's. Um. Yeah.
Current itinerary for today consists of me getting a coach up to Wangy and getting dropped off at the hospital so I can say hello. I'm quite looking forward to it.
But first, breakfast. And then I'll blog if I feel like it.
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Just because its me.
As I walked around WangyWangy today, I got three different kind of greetings from complete strangers.
One was a big native dude who mouthed out, "Hey, Ching Chong, why don't you go back to your own country!" while pedalling on what looked like a little kid's bike. Jerkoff.
Second was a white short car which honked, albeit in a rather friendly way and a woman sitting in the front seat waved to me as though she has never seen an Asian person before.
Third was a car that honked in a relatively menacing way, in the kind of way that makes you jump as you don't expect it and them grinning as they zoom past you.
Why, oh why, do I need to get such treatment?
To the dude on the bike, I would have shouted, "I contribute more to this country than you on the dole, fuckface!" But of course, I didn't want to die so soon. And I did promise family that I would take care of myself when I live here alone.
To the two others in their cars, I wish I had a Bigfoot that I could use to crush them underneath my monster wheels. But that is fantasy too. And I might need to add that I don't drive. Oh the shame.
I'm currently rewatching Chuck Palahnik's "Fight Club". There's something very moving and very psychological about it. It technically can be used as something for modern literature dissection. Hm.
A pretty useful line.
Its only after we've lost everything that we're free to do anything - Tyler Durden
Its true, isn't it?
I have just finished watching the scene where Tyler takes a convenience store owner out back and threatens to kill him if the owner does not go and pursue past dream of becoming a vet.
And the scene where Tyler drives into the opposite lane and asks if you were going to die, what would you have wished you had done.
What would you wish you had done?
Or am I just becoming too bohemian right now? Too hippy? Too philosophical? Too...bullshit?
Is it true that after everything has been taken away from you, then you are free to do whatever you want?
Can a parallel truth be drawn from the fact that we need to be truly broken in order to be able to have total dependence on God? Or a deity if you believe otherwise?
Or shall we draw the idea that we need to stop caring? Or stop living? To die. In order to live.
Man, this is getting nowhere. Or maybe its heading someplace but its not making any sense at all.
In the event of this happening, I'm going to bed.
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So work wasn't as bad as I thought. Although I did wish deep down inside that I was so much more busier than I
actually was. I kept dozing off reading Brukner and Khan this afternoon. Boring stuff, really.
I'm still "internetless". Oh dear. I thought that when I started a job, I would have internet access at the tips of
my fingers and I would be able to blog like crazy. But oh, no, I'm still stuck on Notepad and typing this on my
laptop. In that case, I might as well just stop blogging since I'll be doing all of this on Notepad anyway. And its
wayy more accessible compared to an internet connection.
My colleagues are nice, friendly, and they try and make me feel as welcome as possible. Which is really good.
I'm still trying to cope with getting used to the hospital setting and what not. I'm going to be seeing my first
real patient on Thursday morning. 44 year old lady, should be interesting one way or another.
You know, I actually think that I've become more boring once I've started working. I know of many bloggers who
literally swear to stop blogging once they start work because they're in a different mindset. And all that jazz,
anyway.
Work tires you out. It tires me out anyway. When I got home, all I could really do was just sit and stare at the
computer screen. Played Diablo II for about half an hour and then went to bed. And woke up to various phone calls
from friends and family and then went back to bed again. What a day.
If this is working life for the rest of my life, someone shoot me. Now. Pweese?
posted by Poet at
8:14 AM
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