I find nothing more repulsive than binge drinking hooliganism. Followed closely by vomiting on someone's toilet floor. Lets face it, you made it so close. What was stopping you from opening the toilet seat and taking aim? It's a wonder what half a bottle of vodka in half an hour can do to a man.
I remember the days of yesterday when us highschool kids would purchase the cheapest, most grotesque 'poisons' we could for a random and eventful night. Binge drinking was popular in my day but we at least had the self control to pace ourselves to some degree. Surely by the end of the night I would wind up in some ditch puking my guts up, but I always took aim in an appropriate locality. The thought of desecrating some poor innocent host's premises was too much to bare.
This short entry was inspired on the spur of the moment by a vocal projection I would best forget. So I end this by offering some advice. Watch your booze and be responsible. A small percentage of drinkers can actually handle high alcohol consumption therefore overuse will only cause problems.
Nengi
Friday, September 23, 2005
Wednesday, September 21, 2005
My belated update of things to come
It appears now that I'll be traveling to Thailand. My flight is booked, I don't have a passport nor do I have travel insurance and I still don't know if I'll be able to fill this damn room of mine while I'm away. But all is well because I have committed to something I never thought I could do. Well actually I've always wanted to travel overseas for an extended adventure but due to my previous drugo experiences I have been somewhat of a pessimist - combined with the occasional crazy-man optimism associated with drug addiction.
I'll be traveling throughout the land of smiles for just under 3 months with only broad intentions of what I'd like to accomplish. First and foremost is the personal journey of discovery within me, followed by the experience and endeavors of learning about South East Asian cultures and people. Beyond that, I'm not to sure. This is what I like to call the miscellaneous goal. The unknown and the willingness to push through the force of unpredictability, even in the face of despair.
The personal journey for me is one of independence. An ability to be able to trust my instincts and to rely on my abilities without hesitation. A grave issue of mine for many years now has been an unwillingness to trust my thoughts. Can I accomplish the next great challenge? I think so. Will I crumble and fail? Hell no, I'm here now and I'll stand up to what ever life has to throw at me. Realistically I'm as scared as a little boy on his first day of school. This fear is one of lasting anguish, forever testing me. I feel as though my struggle up this great peak has been one of my greatest accomplishments, yet I glance over yonder only to realise I still have more horrendous peaks to climb. So, yes, I'm looking forward to this great journey but I also reside within myself and recognise that I have to overcome a my lack of self-confidence and low self-esteem.
In a way I feel that by learning about foreign cultures indifferent to mine I will some how find, in me, a new idea of humanity and a way to move forward as a real person. I have always tokened a specific example to the way I feel inside. It is as though I am merely occupying this carrier I call a body, looking out of these eyes from deep within. I do not see the answers yet but time will draw them out and I may one day feel normal again. It is my friends and family that reassure me and make me feel normal and real inside- but what's real anyway? As funny as it sounds I look at this world in the same way as Neo looked at the Matrix. There must be something we are all missing. Something bigger than us. There goes my agnostic thoughts again. Maybe I can find peace in Buddhism or Islam :oP. Or perhaps I simply think to much.
Finally I come to the miscellaneous goal, which possibly refers to my previous paragraph but in more realistic terms it refers to the world around me and how I interact with it. This last year has seen me interacting with my world in a stale and unfulfilled manner. Working to live and dreading my days in a mentally unrewarding occupation. Generally the populace do exactly that. The majority are processing your paper work, cleaning your schools and institutions, selling you products and fundamentally supporting your way of life. I say no to that pathway because I want to be satisfied in my lively ambitions - I want to live to work, not work to live (not trying to criticise the majority consensus). Maybe I'm just an idealist and maybe I will forever be striving for satisfaction but I would rather strive for something than settle for something. After all satisfaction is only temporary. My confidence in that slogan is dwindling as I attempt to glance into my future. I'll be struggling with this notion for the rest of my life unless I see the beauty in simplicity and the happiness in life. Thai culture uses the term sanuk (fun) as a way of living. If something becomes mai sanuk (not fun) it is considered drudgery or mundane therefore functions using the sanuk ideology. I hope one day I might truly recognise this constructive metaphor for life. Perhaps satisfaction wont simply be temporary.
As per usual I have read to much into my thoughts. It is now that I have to strip all preconceived notions of what I believe in and start from scratch. I'm now left naked with no real idea, but a veritable melting pot of different ideologies. This is how I define the meaning of life, a sequence of mental evolutions with the aim of deciphering some great and all empowering theory of being. It just isn't possible, it's a pipe dream.
So this time, 2 months from now I'll be trekking around Thailand. It's all I can think of at the moment. I thoroughly look forward to the change in direction and the unlimited possibilities that await me. The only thing that stays the same is change (Sage Francis).
Nengi
Monday, September 05, 2005
The epic of my first Mt Maroon experience
03/09/2005:0615
Blang blang bling dong dang.... I must have accidentally turned my alarm off in a hazy half awake state because that is my door bell and I was supposed to be up at 0530. A bell from hell with its ridiculously loud monochromatic melodies of songs from before my time. The other residence of my house should be awake after that screeching serenade coming from the kitchen. I quickly jump out of bed, rap a towel around me and race for the front door. It's Womby (not real name), my climbing partner for today. I unlock the fortress gate so he can rummage through my assortment of climbing gear which has been laid out on the lounge room floor since last night. I eagerly get changed and gather all my gear, ready for yet another weekend of climbing chaos. Once all the appropriate gear has been accounted for we jump in the car and head off on our long journey to the mighty Mt Maroon.
After two hours of driving we arrive at what looks to be the outskirts of a paddock. The next ten or so minutes are a big part of our excursion, as we are preparing for what will be a very long day. Womby opens the boot of his car and we take what gear we need. I have a quick smoke, put my harness on, clip all the gear I'll be needing to my gear loops and tie one of the ropes to my body like a backpack. We head off toward this grand behemoth knowing only to well that there is a long walk ahead. Approximately and hour or so of steep hiking we divert off the worn tourist track through moderately dense scrub and boulders. At present we are probably around six to seven hundred metres off the ground and we still have some way to go till we arrive at our destination. Womby guides us up through the bush to a cliff with no obvious way down to the base of our climb. We search the wall for a couple of anchors to rappel from. After half an hour of looking, calling friends for beta and snacking on fruit bars we decide to rappel from a large boulder just down from where we are standing.
The rappel from this boulder is surely one of the most interesting raps I have done. There are about 3 levels broken up by horizontal sections of ferns and other subtropical shrubbery. After reaching the first horizontal section I find myself plunging my boots through the wet greenery, trying to find footing on anything available. I reach the next ledge and carefully lower myself closer to the ground. Once at the bottom I call out to Womby "Off rope". "Okie dokie" he replies. Womby then starts his rappel following the my same line. He is overly cautious and doesn't look comfortable but after some struggle he makes it to the ground and we both coil up the ropes.
The climb we are about to attempt is called Jug City. It's a moderately easy grade at 16 but that is all I'm interested in climbing today as Mt Maroon has a long approach and the thought of getting trapped out here is definitely in the back of my mind. I lead the first pitch on what I would call less than bomber gear. None the less I complete my climb with some difficulty at the top due to a clump of irritating long grass filling my face as I try to top out onto a ledge. As I gain the top of the first pitch I search desperately for a tree worthy of belaying Womby up. There is nothing here, well nothing except for a couple of small cracks in the rock. So, as quickly as I can, I place four pieces of gear and equalise the anchor so Womby can second up the climb I just ascended, "On belay, climb when ready". "Okie dokie" replies Womby.
Once he reaches the ledge we realise that the day is getting the better of us. It is already around 1600 and we still have to get to the top of this epic 120m multi pitch climb - time sure does fly when you're having fun. Womby quickly grabs all the trad gear he can from me and heads off on the second pitch. We have to simply follow the line of least resistance but after about twenty minutes of climbing Womby realises that he may have headed to far left, and that we may very well be heading toward more difficult territory. He gains a tree belay about twenty or so metres from me and begins to rig up my anchor so I can second him up the climb. After a short while he hollers "On belay, climb when ready". So I quickly throw my shoes and helmet on and clean the rest of the gear from the rock. "Ok. Climbing".
I top out at Womby's anchor and realise that it is getting late - around 1700. We are faced with a predicament of being caught on the face with very little time before dark to get out off the rock and back to the safety of the car. Womby and I quickly rig up the lines for a rap and descend to the bottom of the climb. At present we are still at around six hundred metres of the ground with less than an hour of sun to light our path. We pack our gear and start to scramble down the scree slope until we reach a ledge with a forty metre drop ahead of us. This turns out to be one of my most rewarding abseils (never thought I would say that). There are two free hanging sections and lots of nice rock to admire.
The next hour is spent scrambling down loose bush to more ledges requiring more rappelling. The sun fades quickly and before soon we are finishing our last abseil with barely a glimmer of light to guide our way. Doh, I realise I left my head lamp at home so Womby switches on his head lamp and I have to resort to using my phones camera light which is surprisingly bright. We start to traverse along the edge of the mountain, searching for the tourist track we came in on. This is the first time I have had to bush bash in such a rugged environment and I must admit I am a little nervous. We stumble and struggle with urgent pace along the loose rock and plant life for an hour or so until finally we find the track. There were moments where I felt as though we were about to have a Blair witch moment but luckily we found the track. It's all smooth sailing from here.
We have a pleasant walk down the track in the dark and reach the car by 1930, relieved to be back in the relative safety of modern technology. I roll myself a well deserved cigarette and gobble down some lollies I had left in the car before our epic journey. Womby starts the car and we head off toward Brisbane. As we come into Boonah we feel its probably best if we stop at the local cafe for some serious black coffee and a muffin. Damn its hot but very good. We head off again and before I know it we have reached my house. Womby comes in with me so as we can sort through all of our gear and reappropriate each others respective equipment.
What a day. Fourteen hours from start to finish. I'm sure I'll feel it tomorrow but its all worth it.
One may ask why I subject myself to the rigors of this extreme sport. It is easy to answer. Climbing makes me feel alive.
Blang blang bling dong dang.... I must have accidentally turned my alarm off in a hazy half awake state because that is my door bell and I was supposed to be up at 0530. A bell from hell with its ridiculously loud monochromatic melodies of songs from before my time. The other residence of my house should be awake after that screeching serenade coming from the kitchen. I quickly jump out of bed, rap a towel around me and race for the front door. It's Womby (not real name), my climbing partner for today. I unlock the fortress gate so he can rummage through my assortment of climbing gear which has been laid out on the lounge room floor since last night. I eagerly get changed and gather all my gear, ready for yet another weekend of climbing chaos. Once all the appropriate gear has been accounted for we jump in the car and head off on our long journey to the mighty Mt Maroon.
After two hours of driving we arrive at what looks to be the outskirts of a paddock. The next ten or so minutes are a big part of our excursion, as we are preparing for what will be a very long day. Womby opens the boot of his car and we take what gear we need. I have a quick smoke, put my harness on, clip all the gear I'll be needing to my gear loops and tie one of the ropes to my body like a backpack. We head off toward this grand behemoth knowing only to well that there is a long walk ahead. Approximately and hour or so of steep hiking we divert off the worn tourist track through moderately dense scrub and boulders. At present we are probably around six to seven hundred metres off the ground and we still have some way to go till we arrive at our destination. Womby guides us up through the bush to a cliff with no obvious way down to the base of our climb. We search the wall for a couple of anchors to rappel from. After half an hour of looking, calling friends for beta and snacking on fruit bars we decide to rappel from a large boulder just down from where we are standing.
The rappel from this boulder is surely one of the most interesting raps I have done. There are about 3 levels broken up by horizontal sections of ferns and other subtropical shrubbery. After reaching the first horizontal section I find myself plunging my boots through the wet greenery, trying to find footing on anything available. I reach the next ledge and carefully lower myself closer to the ground. Once at the bottom I call out to Womby "Off rope". "Okie dokie" he replies. Womby then starts his rappel following the my same line. He is overly cautious and doesn't look comfortable but after some struggle he makes it to the ground and we both coil up the ropes.
The climb we are about to attempt is called Jug City. It's a moderately easy grade at 16 but that is all I'm interested in climbing today as Mt Maroon has a long approach and the thought of getting trapped out here is definitely in the back of my mind. I lead the first pitch on what I would call less than bomber gear. None the less I complete my climb with some difficulty at the top due to a clump of irritating long grass filling my face as I try to top out onto a ledge. As I gain the top of the first pitch I search desperately for a tree worthy of belaying Womby up. There is nothing here, well nothing except for a couple of small cracks in the rock. So, as quickly as I can, I place four pieces of gear and equalise the anchor so Womby can second up the climb I just ascended, "On belay, climb when ready". "Okie dokie" replies Womby.
Once he reaches the ledge we realise that the day is getting the better of us. It is already around 1600 and we still have to get to the top of this epic 120m multi pitch climb - time sure does fly when you're having fun. Womby quickly grabs all the trad gear he can from me and heads off on the second pitch. We have to simply follow the line of least resistance but after about twenty minutes of climbing Womby realises that he may have headed to far left, and that we may very well be heading toward more difficult territory. He gains a tree belay about twenty or so metres from me and begins to rig up my anchor so I can second him up the climb. After a short while he hollers "On belay, climb when ready". So I quickly throw my shoes and helmet on and clean the rest of the gear from the rock. "Ok. Climbing".
I top out at Womby's anchor and realise that it is getting late - around 1700. We are faced with a predicament of being caught on the face with very little time before dark to get out off the rock and back to the safety of the car. Womby and I quickly rig up the lines for a rap and descend to the bottom of the climb. At present we are still at around six hundred metres of the ground with less than an hour of sun to light our path. We pack our gear and start to scramble down the scree slope until we reach a ledge with a forty metre drop ahead of us. This turns out to be one of my most rewarding abseils (never thought I would say that). There are two free hanging sections and lots of nice rock to admire.
The next hour is spent scrambling down loose bush to more ledges requiring more rappelling. The sun fades quickly and before soon we are finishing our last abseil with barely a glimmer of light to guide our way. Doh, I realise I left my head lamp at home so Womby switches on his head lamp and I have to resort to using my phones camera light which is surprisingly bright. We start to traverse along the edge of the mountain, searching for the tourist track we came in on. This is the first time I have had to bush bash in such a rugged environment and I must admit I am a little nervous. We stumble and struggle with urgent pace along the loose rock and plant life for an hour or so until finally we find the track. There were moments where I felt as though we were about to have a Blair witch moment but luckily we found the track. It's all smooth sailing from here.
We have a pleasant walk down the track in the dark and reach the car by 1930, relieved to be back in the relative safety of modern technology. I roll myself a well deserved cigarette and gobble down some lollies I had left in the car before our epic journey. Womby starts the car and we head off toward Brisbane. As we come into Boonah we feel its probably best if we stop at the local cafe for some serious black coffee and a muffin. Damn its hot but very good. We head off again and before I know it we have reached my house. Womby comes in with me so as we can sort through all of our gear and reappropriate each others respective equipment.
What a day. Fourteen hours from start to finish. I'm sure I'll feel it tomorrow but its all worth it.
One may ask why I subject myself to the rigors of this extreme sport. It is easy to answer. Climbing makes me feel alive.
Understanding my indecision
My indecision plagues each day I endevour to find direction life. Recently, I have been moving back and forth between the ideas of travelling to Japan or Thailand. There are pros and cons to both directions and I have - hopefully - come to a final decision.
My first option is to travel to Thailand so I can climb till my hearts content. Two months of sun, beach and rock. It sure does sound like some strange wet dream I know. Then, after I have relieved all the stress in these poor sagging limbs I want to study a Bachelor of Arts. This degree is renowned through out this great nation as the course for those lacking direction. I'm sure I have made yet another exaggeration but lets face it, a student can basically follow any line of interest in many different fields to accomplish a qualification. I don't know what I want to be when I grow up so I'll follow my nose, pick some subjects and figure the rest out later.
My second option is to travel to Japan and teach English conversation skills to the locals. Initially my reasoning was understandable. I wanted to gain some rudimentary skills in Japanese before majoring in the language for my degree. Unfortunately, I wouldn't be entitled to a holiday before having commence teaching. The experience would be invaluable and I would gain those basic Japanese language skills very quickly while still getting paid to teach. But is it really worth the effort - probably.
My house mates (well, one in particular) has had to put up with my indecision for some time now. Back and forth from one idea to the next. My mother also understands this chaotic mind of mine. Week by week I inform her of my new endevours and life missions. Each idea does have merit but none of them have really harnessed my future ambitions. Up until now, that is.
The decision to explore the vertical environment of Krabi seems to be solid as stone. I have the money and I am prepared to resign from work at the end of October. The ball is in motion and I'm ready to harness it with both hands and run like hell. So, to this brain of mine I ask; "Is this it, or do you have something else in mind?". Time will tell.
Those that know me understand that my self torment is probably to my detriment but it is my indecision and it makes me feel alive. Never except the normal and never admit to permanent satisfaction, for satisfaction can only be temporary.
My first option is to travel to Thailand so I can climb till my hearts content. Two months of sun, beach and rock. It sure does sound like some strange wet dream I know. Then, after I have relieved all the stress in these poor sagging limbs I want to study a Bachelor of Arts. This degree is renowned through out this great nation as the course for those lacking direction. I'm sure I have made yet another exaggeration but lets face it, a student can basically follow any line of interest in many different fields to accomplish a qualification. I don't know what I want to be when I grow up so I'll follow my nose, pick some subjects and figure the rest out later.
My second option is to travel to Japan and teach English conversation skills to the locals. Initially my reasoning was understandable. I wanted to gain some rudimentary skills in Japanese before majoring in the language for my degree. Unfortunately, I wouldn't be entitled to a holiday before having commence teaching. The experience would be invaluable and I would gain those basic Japanese language skills very quickly while still getting paid to teach. But is it really worth the effort - probably.
My house mates (well, one in particular) has had to put up with my indecision for some time now. Back and forth from one idea to the next. My mother also understands this chaotic mind of mine. Week by week I inform her of my new endevours and life missions. Each idea does have merit but none of them have really harnessed my future ambitions. Up until now, that is.
The decision to explore the vertical environment of Krabi seems to be solid as stone. I have the money and I am prepared to resign from work at the end of October. The ball is in motion and I'm ready to harness it with both hands and run like hell. So, to this brain of mine I ask; "Is this it, or do you have something else in mind?". Time will tell.
Those that know me understand that my self torment is probably to my detriment but it is my indecision and it makes me feel alive. Never except the normal and never admit to permanent satisfaction, for satisfaction can only be temporary.
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