If I Ever Feel Better

A few weeks ago, I posted about an incident that happened during our regular Wednesday night trivia at the Maroubra Bay Hotel.  It made me wonder a little bit about some of the issues you hit once you step out of your own subculture and into another.  Tonight has only raised more questions.

It should have been our best night yet.  After turning up weekly since August, we finally made friends with some of the locals.  We sat at a table with a young guy called Dave, who turned out to be a bit of a trooper - and possibly the solution to our lack of sports trivia knowledge.  Later on, we were joined by group of three girls, who we had won over by sharing our bar tab with them.  We chatted and bonded and it made me feel far more connected than I have since moving to Sydney.  Is making new friends always as simple as this?

Then at 10:30, a drunk guy who had been heckling the trivia earlier came over and squirted a sauce bottle in Dave’s face.  Completely unprovoked.  He then proceeded to walk around spraying the rest of us with tomato.  As we were cleaning up, he came back for more, this time getting violent and pushing Dave around.  Having just met Dave, I was amazed at his composure - he was clearly fuming but he didn’t say a word and didn’t fight back.

Even as we gathered our things and hurried out, the guy threatened us and pushed us out.  He circled us as we stood on the pavement outside and went in for a swing at Dave, busting his lip, all the time shouting that he ran the place and that we’d better not come back ever again.

I don’t know what to think after this.  We reported the incident to the police, but I’m not confident it will make a difference.  The bar staff clearly tolerate this kind of behaviour - and there was no apparent security.  The woman running the trivia night cut it short by a round even prior to these dramas, simply because there were some patrons acting aggressively.  Whether the trivia night can even continue under these circumstances is a bit doubtful.

In the coming days, we’ll need to debrief.  We’ll need to see how the issue is handled by the pub and by the cops.  We’ll need to work out what kind of risks we’re willing to take in future.  Because tonight went bad very quickly - and it could have been a lot worse.

Getting back to Sydney in late January was a difficult time for me.  I’d managed to put some unpleasant things to the side while I lived it up for 7 weeks in the US - but on my return I was unemployed and living in a city in which I no longer felt I belonged.  I had moved to Sydney hoping to put down some new roots and nothing seemed to have played out the way I imagined.  I spent most of February watching DVDs on the couch and feeling sorry for myself.

I mention this because that time feels a lot longer ago than 9 months.

My instinct when things have been tough has been to leave, to try and find happiness and contentment somewhere else.  You know that already, if you’ve been a reader of my blogs for any length of time.  When I was jobless and uncertain, I felt like rebooting somewhere else - it was the first answer to any question.

Now I’m looking towards the future.  I have had a few companies approach me about potential jobs - one of which involves an interstate move.  I’m weighing things up, but I’m not keen to move, especially now that Nikki and I have finally settled on a country to spend the next little while.  My life isn’t perfect, for sure.  But for the first time in a long while, that doesn’t bother me much - and I know that changing cities yet again isn’t the answer.

I have a pretty simple life, and it’s a happy one.  I get stressed by some things, but so many things give me joy.  I have good friends here and other good friends scattered around the country and the world.  I have free time to do things that give me pleasure.  I read and I blog and I go to trivia and I dance and I sing karaoke and I play guitar and I spend hours on the phone to a girl in Canada.

I’m from a family of nomads and I’m marrying a girl from another country, so Sydney is unlikely to be the end of the line for me - but it’s nice to know that sometimes you don’t need to chase the good things and that they can surprise you where you are.

There’s a bit in one of Douglas Adams’ Hitchhiker’s Guide books where a guy gives up on humanity when he sees instructions on a packet of toothpicks.  I knew exactly how he felt when I read the packet of my dental floss, which proclaims:

50m
2x as Much Floss*

*Than 25m packs

Thank you, Johnson & Johnson copywriters! Where would I have been without your handy calculation skills?

When Phil, a guy I know, got back from a trip overseas, during which he had proposed to his girlfriend, it was odd to notice that he was wearing something on his ring finger.  I asked my friend Andy about it afterward.  “Do guys get engagement rings?  Am I missing something?”

“I think Phil just likes rings,” he said.

Phil might have been on to something, because while my fiancée Nikki can announce her new status just by flashing her left hand, I have had to come up with ways of bringing it up in conversation.

I was talking about this when I ran into an old friend on the street recently.  We’d both seen each other’s status changes on Facebook (how did we ever find out these things before?) but hadn’t seen her since the happy event.  She showed me her bling and I just waved my hand and said “Here’s where my ring would be if I had one!”

“It’s so annoying that boys don’t have rings,” she said.  “Because I know that when I’m not around girls flirt with Michael.”

The other weekend, I was out with friends and it seemed like this one girl was trying it on with me.  It would have been a bit presumptuous to have said “I have a fiancée” apropos of nothing.  But a discreet gesture with your hand on the bar?  That might have worked a treat.

It’s been three times now that I’ve ventured out to Chatswood on a Friday night to join my friend Sally at the institution that is RSL karaoke.  I’m happy that it’s becoming a semi-regular part of my life.  Not only does it involve cheap drinks and the chance to get up and make a fool of myself, it’s a fascinating cross-section of society that goes there.

It’s a diverse crowd, to say the least.  There are uni students, bogans, suburban mums and people from all sorts of ethnic backgrounds.  There is also a large contingent of regulars that seem to have some intellectual disabilities.  And pretty much everyone has a go on the mic.

It’s the last group that is the most fascinating to watch.  Like the rest of the crowd, they’re divided between some amazing singers and some wretched ones - but they’re easily the most enthusiastic performers.  One guy has the voice of a young Elvis Presley and belts and croons out with impressive passion.  One guy has the voice of the Cookie Monster and can fill the dancefloor with his performance of “Yellow Submarine”.

What I like about it is that it’s a million miles removed from the mockery of TV talent shows like Idol.  No one is belittled or selected purely for the amusement of others.   Everyone is genuinely equal up on stage and we all get to be rock stars in our minds for a few minutes.

I’m disappointed now to learn that half of the places I visited over December/January weren’t part of the “real America”.  Why didn’t anyone warn me?

Fascinating fact: Sarah Palin’s speech about “pro-America” places was in Greensboro, NC - home of the most unbelievable array of Waffle House regulars you’ve ever seen.  Some of them even had their own teeth.

We were talking this weekend, a few friends and I, about Sydney rental prices - and the huge rip-off they are.  For a few of us at least, we’ve reached our late 20s and are making far more money than we expected to at this age, certainly more money than we could have conceived when we signed our first rental leases years back.  Yet for all that, we look around and realise that we just aren’t willing to spend the amount expected for rent on most places.   So you start to wonder, who is renting these places?  Who are these people and where do they get all this money?

A couple of possibilities present themselves: firstly, that there’s an inherited wealth effect, where kids are getting a head start financially from their folks; and secondly that these super-rich people don’t exist and that a lot of people are living well beyond their means.  The first is true in some cases, especially where I live.  There are a lot of wealthy families within spitting distance of the Harbour and their kids aren’t just relying on their weekly pay-packet, but it doesn’t account for that much of the issue.

The second theory might have been speculative a few months ago, now it’s an acknowledged fact.  We’ve spent ourselves silly in recent years, figuring that it was all up, up, up.  You’ll earn more next year than you did this year.  Your assets will be worth more next year than this year.  Now things are slowing - or in freefall, in the case of the stockmarket - and debts have to be paid off.

I’ve heard a few people voice the idea that this will all be good for us - bringing prices down to fairer levels, forcing people to reduce their consumerism - but I don’t know how it will all play out.  I feel for people who have over-stretched and are going to hurt a lot in the next few years.  I feel for people who will still be homeless no matter how low house prices and rents fall.  A recession won’t fix our city’s inequalities any more than a decade of prosperity did.

Maybe it’s just a good chance to look at our own priorities - to recognise that playing catch-up with a city that has lost all sense of proportion will only drive you crazy and probably broke.

From the evil geniuses who brought you Rock Band and Guitar Hero, we now present the new interactive music game, Worship Band!  Available now for Wii, Xbox 360 and PS3.  With exciting new action features:

• Point like Darlene Zschech from Hillsong!
• Close your eyes earnestly!
• Change the lyrics to the new Coldplay album to make them about Jesus!
• Create just the right spritual atmosphere to increase tithing!

Featuring tunes by Casting Crowns, Sanctus Real, Chris Tomlin and that band that wrote “Jesus Is My Friend”.

I got a letter from the government the other day, opened and read it…

It said that I was again being called in for jury duty.  This happened once before in June, but because my panel was never required to attend court, they’re entitled to call me in again.  Of course, the timing couldn’t have been worse, this month being when my fiancée Nikki was supposed to come and meet my family.  But with my stupid sense of obligation, and the fact that I may very well be empanelled whether I like it or not, that plan has been postponed.  Screw you, NSW Sheriff’s Department.

Who knows what will happen when I attend on Monday.  Every story I’ve ever heard about jury duty ends with “And they didn’t pick me.”  So who do they pick?  Who are these people who give up weeks at a time to listen to court cases? Is it all an elaborate hoax to make us think justice is democratic, when it’s really the same twelve professionals who are wheeled out every time?

I may be onto something with this…

I’ve got it.  The political bug, that is.  For some reason, I’ve become obsessed with the U.S. Presidential election.  I can’t help it.  I read all the blog posts, all the articles.  I watch all the videos.  I don’t have a huge amount invested in it - after all, we’re a long way away here in Australia, and if the likes of Dubya and Ronald Reagan have failed to destroy the world, I’m not too worried about global apocalypse whatever the outcome.  But I do get excited.  It’s like a big theatrical production to me.

Of course, if you’re one of my American readers and it’s your economy and your army and your health care (or lack of) that are being debated, then I guess it’s probably a lot more serious than that.

It’s just remarkable that so many people are paying attention, wherever we live. Who’s watching the Canadian election other than the Canadians?  Does anyone even realise New Zealand is having one too?  I live a three hour flight from Auckland and I had no idea until I saw it on Sky News on a plane.

I wonder if the sheep are allowed to vote?