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.
Monday, August 29, 2005
A little about my day - 29/08/05
A little about my day;
I woke up in the most pessimistic mood today. Like all was lost. The thought of working until January is making me nauseous, and I'm having enough trouble dealing with my reluctance to continue on working with these guys. So I am faced with a dilemma. My wage is sufficient enough for me to atleast save some money for my plans at the end of the year, but this environment is driving me crazy.
I work independently in a small, drab master bedroom. It's a modest office building that resembles an old house. Actually, it is an old house with a porch, full size kitchen and a shower. Renovated along with the neighbour's house, to be reborn as freight forwarders. It is a nice place and I do at least have some company now. My concern is that the company I work for is supposed to be an international player with a global network of agents. I'm sure our allies overseas would laugh to hear that Brisbane has one unqualified freighty that sits in a bedroom all day. So it has come to my attention that if my bosses don't care enough about Brisbane it would only be detrimental to me if I care.
Our (my) head office is in Melbourne so I have work by myself all by my lonely self. Recently I have been imagining the analogy of a soldier trapped behind enemy lines. He calls for back up, "Delta 1, this is Charlie. I need back up, now".
"No-can do soldier. It's just to damn hot in there. Your going to have to wait it out. Good luck" replies Delta 1 (the head office), in a nervous sounding voice. I'm concerned that the next four months will be changing times for my industry and I don't want to have to deal with. From my experience these problems can be very stressful.
So: Money and job or no money and sanity?
Suprisingly I have regained some of my optimism tonight so I think the winner is........Money YAY for money. It is the most important factor for me and my plans next year. No money, no climbing Thailand. It has been many years since I have traveled to lands a far. Of course, I will be going to uni next year and it is always handy to have some money waiting for the start of uni.
I'm still reluctant to continue on working with these guys but I'll do it for now. Logically it works, but once put into practice it just seems so wrong.
Nengi
I woke up in the most pessimistic mood today. Like all was lost. The thought of working until January is making me nauseous, and I'm having enough trouble dealing with my reluctance to continue on working with these guys. So I am faced with a dilemma. My wage is sufficient enough for me to atleast save some money for my plans at the end of the year, but this environment is driving me crazy.
I work independently in a small, drab master bedroom. It's a modest office building that resembles an old house. Actually, it is an old house with a porch, full size kitchen and a shower. Renovated along with the neighbour's house, to be reborn as freight forwarders. It is a nice place and I do at least have some company now. My concern is that the company I work for is supposed to be an international player with a global network of agents. I'm sure our allies overseas would laugh to hear that Brisbane has one unqualified freighty that sits in a bedroom all day. So it has come to my attention that if my bosses don't care enough about Brisbane it would only be detrimental to me if I care.
Our (my) head office is in Melbourne so I have work by myself all by my lonely self. Recently I have been imagining the analogy of a soldier trapped behind enemy lines. He calls for back up, "Delta 1, this is Charlie. I need back up, now".
"No-can do soldier. It's just to damn hot in there. Your going to have to wait it out. Good luck" replies Delta 1 (the head office), in a nervous sounding voice. I'm concerned that the next four months will be changing times for my industry and I don't want to have to deal with. From my experience these problems can be very stressful.
So: Money and job or no money and sanity?
Suprisingly I have regained some of my optimism tonight so I think the winner is........Money YAY for money. It is the most important factor for me and my plans next year. No money, no climbing Thailand. It has been many years since I have traveled to lands a far. Of course, I will be going to uni next year and it is always handy to have some money waiting for the start of uni.
I'm still reluctant to continue on working with these guys but I'll do it for now. Logically it works, but once put into practice it just seems so wrong.
Nengi
Friday, August 26, 2005
2 Years of freight Forwarding boredom
So here we are again. The third post of what will hopefully become a long run melodrama of my life. The first post introduced us to what I like to call 'one of the worst'. 1999 has few memories I would like to remember but, as mentioned, these years are character building and I don't think I would trade places with anyone for all the wealth in the world. At any cost there is a story to tell.
After leaving Photography College in late 1999 I chose to take some 'Nengi time', or stone as it were. Many of my days were spent cruising around the secluded regions of my city limits suburb, smoking cones and pondering idle nothingness with acquaintances better left in the time of yesterday. I inefficiently bought my poison on a daily basis with my fellow pilgrims. Consuming only a days worth of supply as though the following day would prevail like most 'normal' peoples day's. I was wasting away in a repetitive cycle of over consuming illegality and drive-through burgers and fries. Who would have thought I had come to this? From being the bright son with all the possibilities (no offense to my dear brother) to a money squandering Nob head with a drug addiction. Perhaps I am exaggerating slightly but I still consider these days to be the start of something that would riddle my life for many years to follow. The cycle of daily 'car rotting' concluded for I was to become Employed, Full-Time. Those words every parent wants to hear. I sought full-time work for my own financial goals - Ta make a man out o yar. Frankly the thought of continuing school in my depressive state and lack of financing made me sick. The days of education and development were finished for good, or so I thought.
My place in the freight industry was established in such a simple way. I visited an employment agency and said "give me a job". Prestige and recognition were not my first priorities when considering employment so I took the first possible opportunity that came along - the freight industry. My first interview did not come to any fruition so I suggested the notion of doing some work experience. Before I knew it I was placed in the trusty hands of a small customs brokerage firm. The moment I entered the white fluro lit office I realised that this would be my place of employment for some time. My Initiation into the freight industry was conducted by an eccentric muzza, sporting a tie-die soccer T, who enjoyed the simple pleasures in life. Like compression locking the brakes on the poor little Barina. Lets just say eccentric muzza was eccentric. The Boss and The eccentric muzza weren't mates at the best of times so my sudden appearance worked out quite conveniently for all. I was suddenly entrenched in head-height paperwork and courier driving before I could say "Jee, how sucky is the freight industry?".
In short, my career as a runner in the Customs brokerage firm was fairly monotonous and plain work. It is easy to see how my work will one day be replaced by machines. These were possibly two of my most boring years (2000-2001).
So I'll end this post knowing that I wasted 2 years working in an industry that would haunt me for the next five or so years.
>>>By the way, I have decided that it will be to boring and time consuming for me to try recount my entire past. Instead I have decided to write what comes to my head. Sometimes it will be old accounts, sometimes new accounts and many times it will just be me pondering this brain I have been bestowed with.
Thanks
After leaving Photography College in late 1999 I chose to take some 'Nengi time', or stone as it were. Many of my days were spent cruising around the secluded regions of my city limits suburb, smoking cones and pondering idle nothingness with acquaintances better left in the time of yesterday. I inefficiently bought my poison on a daily basis with my fellow pilgrims. Consuming only a days worth of supply as though the following day would prevail like most 'normal' peoples day's. I was wasting away in a repetitive cycle of over consuming illegality and drive-through burgers and fries. Who would have thought I had come to this? From being the bright son with all the possibilities (no offense to my dear brother) to a money squandering Nob head with a drug addiction. Perhaps I am exaggerating slightly but I still consider these days to be the start of something that would riddle my life for many years to follow. The cycle of daily 'car rotting' concluded for I was to become Employed, Full-Time. Those words every parent wants to hear. I sought full-time work for my own financial goals - Ta make a man out o yar. Frankly the thought of continuing school in my depressive state and lack of financing made me sick. The days of education and development were finished for good, or so I thought.
My place in the freight industry was established in such a simple way. I visited an employment agency and said "give me a job". Prestige and recognition were not my first priorities when considering employment so I took the first possible opportunity that came along - the freight industry. My first interview did not come to any fruition so I suggested the notion of doing some work experience. Before I knew it I was placed in the trusty hands of a small customs brokerage firm. The moment I entered the white fluro lit office I realised that this would be my place of employment for some time. My Initiation into the freight industry was conducted by an eccentric muzza, sporting a tie-die soccer T, who enjoyed the simple pleasures in life. Like compression locking the brakes on the poor little Barina. Lets just say eccentric muzza was eccentric. The Boss and The eccentric muzza weren't mates at the best of times so my sudden appearance worked out quite conveniently for all. I was suddenly entrenched in head-height paperwork and courier driving before I could say "Jee, how sucky is the freight industry?".
In short, my career as a runner in the Customs brokerage firm was fairly monotonous and plain work. It is easy to see how my work will one day be replaced by machines. These were possibly two of my most boring years (2000-2001).
So I'll end this post knowing that I wasted 2 years working in an industry that would haunt me for the next five or so years.
>>>By the way, I have decided that it will be to boring and time consuming for me to try recount my entire past. Instead I have decided to write what comes to my head. Sometimes it will be old accounts, sometimes new accounts and many times it will just be me pondering this brain I have been bestowed with.
Thanks
Thursday, August 25, 2005
"....and then there was Nengisuls"
Why is it that us humans feel the urge to document the most insignificant and pointless information? Like for instance, a public journal. I would like to offer the example of my Nanna. She was a lovely soul and at about the age of 70 or so she decided to finalise her memoirs. See, life is short and without these documented events of finite detail within our pointless existences (relatively speaking), we would simply blow away with the wind to be remembered only by those that loved us.
So now here I am ready to document something that probably should have been started many years ago. Or more realistically should never have been started at all.
I am, Nengi, 24 and currently working as a frieghty in sunny Brisvegas, Australia, but only for so long. Hopefully by the end of this year I will quit my job and be off to Thailand for a month of mad, crazy climbing exploits. It should be the trip of a life time if I can just save my pennies.
But lets go back a little further. Well not to far, but just far enough to make me go awwwwww the ol days. See, as far as I'm concerned life for me started in a strange way at about the age of 19. The days before that were character building for sure. I made some of those friends that I will probably have till the day I die. But the real character - Nengisuls - was established after the age of 18 - 19 (or taken away as it may seem to me). I must also note that 2 special people ignited the name Nengisuls in my highschool days and they should get their recognition for influencing my life. Thanks girls
The year was 1999 and I was a photography student. The previous year had seen me just pass VCE (Victorian Certificate of Education - yr 11&12) which by any definition was utterly pointless due to me chosing to attend a Private Photography College where my VCE scores meant nothing. Ahh the wonders of private college where as long as you have the money to pay upfront your sure to get a top quality education. My father was funding my efforts but I was still just scrapping by with a nasty pot habbit and poor work ethic - not to mention my fathers frugal antics with his abundence of wealth.
The unfortunate happenings of the previous year brought my Photographic education to an end. This is a part of the story where I should restrain myself and hold onto to some secrets of mine. The internet is no place for me to reveal such issues. Lets just say that I was a victem and this abuse brought about the dividing of my father and I. My step mother betrayed me in the highest order and my father sided with her. So in short, my world was turned on its head within the space of one year or so.
I have a theory that my reasoning for startinig my nasty pot habit was due to the abuse I suffered at the time. This led to a severe downward spiral that turned, what was supposed to be a successful school life and lucrative career into turmoil and drug addiction. I really dislike using excuses to cover up what is essentially a bad decision at the wrong time and I'm aware that I should have "Said No To Drugs" :oP. But all you square hippies can just kiss my ass. Honestly, I have learnt a lot from my past suffering. Sometimes I think of what it would have been like to not be swayed by pot, or to not have been the victem of abuse but then I remember that it has helped me in a way. It helped me to see the darker side of life and to realise that there is always room for further degradation. You would be amased at how far down rock bottom really is.
So it was 1999, I dropped out of Photography school, my family found out I was being abused by my step mothers friend of many years, I fell out with my father, started smoking pot, oh and I managed to destroy my car in a head-on collision aswell. I wasn't hurt but it really topped off a great year. It was a trial that I will never forget it.
The rest will have to wait till next time because I must leave work and go home. I'll try to cover my past as much as possible before going onto the present. I may even cover some of my distant highschool past, not that I can remember much.
So until next time "Be good. And if you can't be good be careful" hehehe I'm getting so old.
Nengi
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