Lamentable Me

Good morning, its bloody early.  I'm up as my son's compass is buggered and its better for my back.  We're off away to the big smoke after a long week.  Union conference, catch up with family and squeezing in as much as possible to get home and do it all again.

This week was unbelievably hard for me.  I know that because I caught myself saying "I miss drinking".  I don't think I ever had a booze problem, on the contrary, I was quite good at it.  So what was it exactly that I missed? Don't I have other things to give my oodles of free time to? Of course, in fact I have too many of those things.

Basketball; I loved it when I first started playing it and I wish after all this time I was better.  The biggest compliment I have had in my playing life is instead of teammates telling me all the things I'm doing wrong is that they're pleading with me to back myself and trust what I can do.  Dalek building and general pottering in the shed.  There are many projects ahead and the eventual YouTube channel I've often threatened to start.  Family of course, playing with child, cuddling wife and walking the poodle. More work; the drug of choice for many who are addicted to workahol.  The trouble with them is that they can't relate to those of us who aren't addicted ourselves.

All of the above could be taking up my time but there's something in common with all of those that booze doesn't carry, which made it seem awfully appealing yesterday afternoon. Caring.  All of those things, sport, hobbies, family, they all involve a level of giving a toss.  After the week I had (acknowledging that I'm a whiner) the idea of doing something that involved not caring seemed very appealing.

Teaching is an emotionally taxing profession.  I loved the line from Jerry Maguire and quote it often in relation to teaching when I say, "it's an up-at-dawn, pride swallowing siege that I can never fully tell you about".  I don't hate teaching but the idea of having a break from the mental fatigue that comes with the job is looking better every day.  I don't quite have enough leave as I've cashed in long service twice.  Once for a new hot water service and once to buy Mum a car.  It's now getting harder to comprehend feeling this way consistently for the next three years for leave to accumulate and for our son to be old enough to travel anywhere significant.

All jobs that people care about are draining.  Some call it challenging or stimulating, essentially they provide enough of a problem to make it interesting enough to not drive into the oncoming lane off traffic on a Monday morning.  I've learned that you cant be precious about your work (the planning) kids are allowed to dislike it.  What drains me is the days where the teaching hat is not worn at all because other hats are demanded by circumstance, first aid, correctional officer, cleaner, therapist, motivational speaker, IT technician and after all those hats have been worn and you're ready to get back to work the bell rings.  When someone says "I don't care about this job" I think people should interpret "I care deeply, I'm tired and I need someone to take over".  People might be thinking this is a cry for help from me and it isn't.  An educational facility's answer to my situation is to provide me with meetings with leaders who can give me strategies......more work, more caring.  This does not ease the burden for the humble chalkie.

So I'm taking this mini break to get away, attend a union conference and spend some time with my father and my wife's family too.  I dare say a trip or two to a hardware store to stock up on dalek building tools/ materials might be in order too.  I won't go back to booze, but I think I can lament the abrupt end of our relationship.  It was nice to do something and not care.

I.M

Older Me

It's March.  Bugger.  Goal again for the year to not become a miserable, moaning sulk by the end of it.  Prognosis isn't good however.

For someone who is uncomfortable in life in general (almost) birthdays must be a total pain in the arse.  Correct me if I'm wrong.  I never feel that kindness or courtesy toward me is deserved so when the old bday rolls around its immediately a day where people are forced to be nice to you and you have to pretend that its unusual.  Cards with classic convertibles or motorbikes that look like bloody three piece suites on wheels.  Email offers exclusively for you and the other thousands of you who happen to be born on the same day because these companies who've mined your data think you have no concept of statistics or big numbers.  No I don't ned a penis enhancement pump, I'm perfectly happy with the one I have (sorry its Tim Minchin's bit, but read the blog title).

So You (whoever might be reading) will probably find my mood declining as the month wears on.  It's a nice, steady and sustained drop in happiness that lasts all month due to my birthday being at the end. Hurrah.

I.M

Uncomfortably Me

It's difficult to not begin a post with "I", very difficult.  It's my blog surely I should be able to start it however the hell I want.  Herein lies the problem, when I say "the" it should read "my" problem.  The issue is quite simple and the reason I blog in the first place.  My blog is written by someone who still isn't comfortable in his own skin.  Someone asked me at work what my blog was about? I had no idea it needed some kind of meta narrative (it worked for Seinfeld, but I never found it funny).  My blog is the distillation of a small amount of ramblings that rattle around in my head and then are vomited onto the page via keyboard and are framed in the views of a person who struggles to feel comfortable in almost all aspects (there are one or two which don't apply) of my life.

There, sure that makes for a great plug to increase readership.  Happy that nobody has commented yet.

I.M

Doubtable me

I'm a compliment fisher. I am a serial compliment fisher. I feel bad about it but I don't think I can stop. 

The reason I can't stop is the same reason I haven't slept well for the past few weeks. Not our two year old. I don't want to be left alone with my thoughts. I don't hear voices or think I can talk to plants. 

I do have recurring thoughts about how horrible a person I am. How can people find me nice? Why do people think I'm good at my job? How could someone love me? Why would these people want to talk to me?

It's been hard living like this. It isn't constant and I know that things will improve. 

I fish for compliments almost as a test of how genuine people are. Tell me a positive and I'll probably fish for a compliment to see if you really meant what you just said. It's weird and convoluted and makes perfect sense in my head (where at the moment it's a crap place to be). 

Why negative. My childhood wasn't bad. What could be bad about growing up as an overweight, sickly, asthmatic, non footballer, non cricketer who watches Doctor Who in regional south Australia?

Other than all of that last question. One day I'll be able to hear "you're looking good" and know it isn't the same as the "you're looking good", in high school. 

I want to live my life and not spend my time on earth complaining about mine. I need to find a way to grow out of this thought process.  But that seems like me trying to make my hair grow longer by force of will. I'm not sure it can be done. 

Impatient Me

I have many failings but one of my biggest is my impatience.  Bad news for someone supposedly at an 80% risk of being killed by cancer.  At this rate it would appear that stress is more likely.  I’m finding myself having one of those days where I’d prefer to not be at work or at home.  On the drive home I was tempted to knock on doors and ask if the occupants would like help around the house: digging holes, changing bulbs, cleaning toilets, quite literally anything.

It’s strange how I promised myself a year ago that I wouldn’t be in this space again and one year on, here I am.  Something that people don’t let you know about being grown up and having responsibilities is that the sea of “things” is unending.  I’ve always described teaching in Jerry Maguire’s words of being, “an up-at-dawn, pride-swallowing siege that I can never fully tell you about”.  Some people are skilled enough to navigate the needs of that job and manage the sea of stuff that is life too.

For some reason I’ve been kidding myself into thinking that I am one of those people.  Psyching myself up to believe that I can deliver interesting lessons, write reports, update plans, build the gym, finish the dalek, go to events, raise money for charity, attend church functions, play sport, BE A FATHER!!! Be a husband, pay bills, take meds, check homework, mediate “issues”, shop for Christmas, wash the car, book in the family wagon to have a break service, try to save money by ordering the parts online, check the VIN plate to make sure I order the right parts, make it line up with a pay week, exercise, better yourself, register your PD, fix that trailer for the dalek, mow and fertilise the lawn, weed the front yard, help organise the garage sale, buy more mouse traps, walk Billy more, get down to 75kg, try and waterproof the shed, get rid of the half done roller door, put up new gates, paint the last part of the outside of the house, put bark chips in the front yard, write that reflection that will earn you money next year, blog, get those YouTube videos done.

I haven’t used an “and” there because it means that immediately after will be the final thing on the list, I’ve just run out of the things that are currently buzzing around in my head; well apart from today’s elephant in the room, we’re moving. Really? When? At what point was I not offered a seat on the committee that decided this rather large ‘minor detail’ in my life because I feel as if it’s something that would have been weighed up for a few days at least.

I get (accept) that may of the things on the list are my choice and I can opt out of them at any time.  I also don’t like to disappoint my loved ones (maybe that comes with learning to be a husband and dad).  I fully accept that I have some help at my disposal but my plans shouldn’t be other’s plans, they didn’t ask to be a part of them and probably have a list like this or bigger to do themselves.  I hate half finished things and I can’t sit still.

If, IF..I sit down to watch television, I’m hungry, I’ve been working while medicated and they’ve worn off so when I eat I’ll need to visit the loo 15 times a night.  I haven’t watched the Dr Who series I got for my birthday past episode 5.  Plus I never finished the last one.  I shouldn’t say “I wish” but it would seem that I really need a more focussed and blinkered life.  One of my best friends told me that when I became a dad I’d wonder what I used to do with all my time.  Mum’s have it bad too and I am not trying to play the “poor man” card.  I already do not drink, smoke or gamble (the socially accepted hobbies).  I don’t do recreational drugs (slightly less socially acceptable but not outside the zeitgeist.

There will be some Holiday time approaching at Christmas/New Year and even though it’s a month away its fast booking up with things.  I think I’d better face facts that if I want to complete the list I need to know that the list will only ever be completed when I stop caring about things and therefore stop doing them.  My problem isn’t really considered a problem in broad terms but maybe this ambition and drive to complete projects is the “manic” side.  The corresponding “up” to the “down” that I’ve been experiencing.  It has gotten worse since my illness, since my realisation that my life will be short and trying to cram as much success (as I seem to define it) into the time that I am on earth. From my own admission its likely that if I do get terminally ill I’ll be quite impatient about it.

I.M

Electable Me

While I'm waiting for a rodent to be killed violently I may as well write about the elephant in the room.  I've been swearing off commenting on the USA's election via Facebook, but we're here so get used to it.  Like many, I listened to the mainstream media and I'm now stunned that there will be a President Trump leading the free world.  If his policies are to be believed the rest of the world may not have much to worry about as he's only really looking out for the USA.

If the modern political sphere is anything to go by, there will be a Trump administration for at least 8 years too.  Yes his policies seem to go against every fibre of my being.  Yes, he seems to have promised the world and is now trying to back pedal as much as possible.  Yes, I posted the George Carlin quote, "Never underestimate the power of stupid people in large numbers".  Please world remember this, we've been here before.

As much as I hate to admit it, seemingly unpopular, right wing governments were the norm in Australia in the mid 90's through to 2007.  I hated all that Jon Howard (ex PM) was and stood for.  I campaigned for Mark Latham over JH!  When someone from Australia steps back and takes a moment to ponder the reason why a person like Mr Trump is elected, it can defy belief.  Then a person like me switches their stereotype headset on (even though the iPhone 7 has no headphone socket) and it does make some sense. Large numbers of previously employed, a majority Christian population, a majority of those Christians being quite conservative, the people who aspire to have excess, the people who consider themselves "self made men" like Trump is perceived to be (not the reality).

It didn't happen in Australia until successive unpopular governments were elected.  This gave a particular politician (who we really only knew from his part on national breakfast TV) the opportunity to ride a wave of disgruntled right wing and highly hopeful lefty superhero status to the Lodge in Canberra.  Ask most people in that cabinet how things worked between Kevin07 and 2010 and one word that comes up is "shambolic".  It led to Kevin Rudd being removed before then end of his first term.

The portrayal of Mr Trump ( I hope) is only a portrayal of him if that makes sense.  The Jon Howard I met in 2005 (toward the end of his empire, and having staved off many challenges from Peter Costello at the time) wasn't the angry man slapping the podium I thought he would be.  He was quiet, charming, dunking scotch fingers and talking to people about cricket.

 I hope anyone living in the USA knows that the elections there are portrayed in Australia as a caricatured pissing contest.  More like kids vying for SRC (class president) than actual President (All the way with Stephanie K).  All I can say for my friends (maybe friend) reading this in the USA is I hope the country's experience with President-elect Trump will be no worse than our Kevin07 experience.  I hope the depiction of his persona is just that.  That one day you'll speak to him in a community club somewhere and realise he's probably a perfectly nice guy (as long as you don't discuss politics).

I.M

Manual- Labor-able......? Me?

I never listened too carefully to the people who told me that one day I'd wake up and realise it was a little harder to get out of bed, or a little more effort would be needed to get to items on lower shelves in shops etc.  That one day I'd find myself.....old.

This is my body and I live in it, its thirty three and sixteen months old.  It's changed a lot since it was new, its done stuff it wasn't built to do and now it resembles something from a Top Gear challenge (middle top gear, new TG's challenge is to find someone to watch) or an episode of Mighty Car Mods.  It seems to have changed so dramatically that I cant remember what it was like to do things that may body was built to do. Although last night I think I got a taste of what it must've been like to live with me in my Northern Adelaide days.

So, I'm ageing, who cares? Plenty more fuel in the tank, haven't even had my second wind yet.  Or have I?  This is what's been eating away at me and I feel remarkably stupid about it.  Here I am 5 days before more surgery (and NO it isn't bloody cancer) The rumour mill went bonkers about that one last year.

So the background in brief.  Last year a 'lump' was discovered.  Said lump was prodded, poked, scanned and tested to be safe.  The plan was to remove lump Mid year.  Along came a production of The Wizard of Oz and I was offered the role of Tin Man.  Being the showoff I am I jumped (rather gingerly) at the chance.  Surgery was scheduled for September/October (with production week commencing a few days post op) no dancing down the yellow brick road for this Tin Man, hence it was postponed til December.  December arrives and so does a long bout of viral gastro.  Can't bring it into the hospital so postponed until Easter: family visits etc, life gets busy so postponed until July.

Here we are, July, cold. Apart from the odd jostling of the appointment times etc all seems to be aligning.  School holidays, reports, even a two week break in the basketball schedule plus even a loss in the first game back still gets us into the finals.  Why am I so nervous?

I think I'm used to lump life.  I have learned to sit down and not hurt myself.  I miss riding my motorcycle, but I can still play sport to some degree and now I'm having doubts about going through. I have no belief in "a plan" circumstances changed my dates which maybe says that perhaps I'm not as selfish as I think.  I'm not worried about the surgery itself, my surgeon is a lovely chap who I've trusted my life to previously and have an good rapport with.  I think I'm worried about my body's response to the surgery. These things can come back, hernias are a possibility, recovery can take longer than anticipated.  I'm less worried about dying in theatre than I am about losing more of my "normality" after the procedure.

My phobia's newest symptom is a recurrence of an original one.  I recall lying in a hospital bed and all I was interested in was going to Bunnings and trying out power tools.  I couldn't drill anything in my room but it was my want to be able to do something handy or in my mind worthy with the time I have.  I cant sleep in unless Im sick or drugged.  I hate sitting down on days when the weather is good and I could be building the gym, planting the lawn, servicing the car, motorbike or Mum's car.  My problem is less being a DIY-aholic and more like I have a phobia of losing my ability co contribute.

I have over committed to projects in the past but never during the recovery post op period because even I am not that stupid.  Say hello to the new, even dumber me.  Not only have I committed to lining the ceiling of the gym, building the giant shoe box, finishing the dalek and making a workbench for myself. I've also committed to planning a semester long Maths unit (because paperwork is definitely my strong suit). There you have it, I have a browser history full of youtube DIY projects and a wife and son that aren't getting what they need from me (in my mind).  If only that help were at hand but honestly, people getting nervous and turning to drugs, alcohol (I miss that) and other vices is more of an issue than me and my need to be productive.

If only I could find a way to be productive in a way that would help my career.  Maybe instead of a Mathematics unit they'd like a birdhouse?

I.M