*beeping horns

This is something I should really add to a post a while ago which I wrote about hypocrites. Anyway, maybe I'll scrap it in the end but I'm here now. Which is really the point.

I'm seeing my mum at the moment, who lives about two hours north of my own place and so I usually stay for a few days once I'm here. The trip here is almost always entirely boring, and bears no resemblance to a road trip you might have seen in a movie somewhere. One reason I think it looses my attention so quickly (compared to Tom Green in the above movie) is just how safe the roads here are compared to other roads I've been on.

I live in Sydney and spend most of my time on roads around the suburbs and the city, which is almost everyday, and I've also driven in Europe before.

Driving in Sydney [city] feels a bit like playing a video game. I'm not sure which one, but probably an old one like space invaders or paddle. One requiring years of practice and banging the side of the screen to get to the last level. You don't get years of practice with the real thing though. Your perfectly free to do your driving test in a suburb like Richmond, where your greatest obstacle will be finding your lane on the unmarked three lane roads, while simultaneously trying to avoid the chickens (who were to slow crossing that morning and now look like witches hats), and then taking your new license, and whoever is brave enough to come with you, straight into the city without a hitch.

Driving in Europe, if you've ever had the pleasure, is comparable to flying a plane. Without speed limits, or at least one's that are enforced, you get the feeling you had in primary school when you were playing a game in the quad and someone shouted "every man for himself". It's like the first time you ever drove a car. The feeling you get when you realise no one's watching, that- at least for now- this car belongs to you, and you can do whatever you want. Which, on a freeway in Europe, usually includes setting your own record speed, then trying to break it on the way home (or on the next hill). It's a great feeling, but of course it comes at a price, which is why the European roads take so many lives compared to the ones here.

On my way here I passed something that reminded me of an old post. There was a sign, and not a small or at all insignificant sign, telling me that if I was to witness a traffic accident I was to report it buy calling 131700. This was flashing in huge neon dots above the road; four other signs I passed with the time said the same thing. It was critical! If I saw an accident I was to call this number, and I should hurry up about it!

After losing my license (it's official in about five days) I've been more aware of what's happening on the road around me. Maybe that's a good thing and maybe it isn't- regardless- I now notice when someone in the car in front of me is doing something illegal. One thing I'm now noticing more often- after a friend of mine told me how much he got fined for this not long ago- is talking on your mobile while your driving. Now, I acknowledge I'm a pretty bad offender in this case, but I wouldn't try to argue about a fine I got for talking to a mate when I should have been watching the road (and the cop trailing behind me). However, if I was anywhere in the vicinity of one of the above signs (and vicinity is quite a subjective word really) I think I would have a case to make before I took on a fine for something they are telling us to do. Of course I'd need an accident...

Me to cop: "yeah, it's just around the corner back there. It's pretty bad. You should probably check it out hey"

The other point I wanted to make about the safe, but boring roads that brought me here (the F1) was just a small one. At least while I'm in the city- playing tetris and fighting everyone trying to get passed me- or on the autobarn- daring people to stick their heads out of the window while we do 200km/hr, I'm still awake. When you feel like your in danger you become more conscious of everything around you, your thinking about whether or not your going to fit between those two cars your passing, or whether there are any speed cameras on this street, but your thinking; which isn't what your doing on the freeway. If your in danger, like everyone driving in the city is, you have to; your aware. In becoming so much safer some roads have lost something I don't think stupid signs about traffic accidents can replace.

Grammer

Ok, so yesterday I was at a music festival with some mates and we decided we needed some cigarettes. On our way to the local shopping centre before the shows started we were talking about how smooth the 15mg Gadang was compared to the 30mg, completely oblivious to the fact that it was a public holiday and the chances of anything being open were quite non existent. Thinking about it now though, it was an Easter holiday, and I don't think the type of store owners at Top Ryde- where we were headed- would have been practicing Christian's, especially those at the tobacconist who were selling Indonesian cigarettes. Anyway, put simply, we were hopeful.

We got there excited and ready to light up and I left the car with a shopping list that had been written up (in the car) in the event of anything being open. No one else could have been bothered getting out and missing the next track on the chill out CD we had on, so I went on my own. With a taste for nicotine and the last song from the CD still going through my head, I headed down the seemingly pointless set of ramps that you find at every shopping centre- for the convenience of those in wheel chairs and the inconvenience of every body else. Don't know if you ever noticed them, but you spend twice as long trying to reach a point that begins to seem like a mirage, as you file down endless ramps in search of something as simple as a loaf of bread? So, after a kilometer or two of ramps, and having to dodge a few wheel chairs of course, I came to the actual entrance, and the sign telling me the shops were closed (they couldn't have put a sign on the road of course, that would have been to helpful).

Now, it wasn't the design of the shops I wanted to draw peoples attention to (if anyone's still listening), or even my disappointment at missing out on my Gadang's for that day (sorry, I know some people reading are trying to quit), but the sign itself (seen above). I've always had problems with grammar and spelling, so noticing this actually made me feel a little haughty at the time (after a giggle). But I think that was really the wrong response. While I'm sure this signs author probably speaks (and spells) in his native language fluently, a second language is something I have no experience of, and so am not really qualified to write about or judge. Put in the situation of writing for public consumption in a second language however, I think I would want someone fluent to check my work before it went on display...

A little peace and sleep

Ok, so I while ago I did something pretty horrible to someone I haven't been able to forget about. It's not something that keeps me up at night or anything, just one of those things you know are going to come back to haunt you eventually, even after your gone. It was pretty bad, so I needed something pretty amazing to make up for it, something that would be just as unforgettable for my friend without bringing up old memories. I thought about that for a long time- longer than you think- because I couldn't come up with anything, as awful as that sounds. Nothing was really good enough. Nothing would do.

I told them about this while they insisted they forgave me already (I didn't believe them). I told them I was sorry and I wished there was something I could do to make up for it, I told them how I felt about it and that stuff like that had happened to me. I told them the truth, but it didn't really help. Well, maybe it helped them, but it didn't help me. I'm not really sure if I'm doing this for them or for me anymore, I know it should be the former, but I can't stop it now it's started.

After a while of trying to come up with the really big thing that was going to make up for everything, something hit me: what if there wasn't anything I could do. What if nothing was good enough. Where would that leave me and what would that mean for my next move. That the right thing to do would be to admit that I could never make up for what happened? Was admitting that the first step towards peace (ie my own)? It didn't sound very helpful when I first thought about it. Like, what good could come from telling my friend there was nothing I could say that was going to make them feel any better. But it at least did sound honest.

I could say to them that I can never make up for what happened, but that they have everything else I have to give: my friendship, which would be an honest one and maybe that meant something (if they decided they wanted it). This is what I did.

I knew by now this was a little more about me than it was about my friend. They might appreciate what I was trying to do, but it really wasn't something I was doing for them. It might even seem like it was- from a certain perspective (a very generous one)- but it really wasn't. It was something I did for myself, for my own peace of mind, and maybe that isn't a good enough reason. Maybe your own redemption isn't enough. I could have ignored the whole situation, not brought up any old memories or asked myself any questions, and I almost did, but then what would I have learned. It all seems like one of those stories about multiple dimensions, where every action we make separates us from a dimension where we took a different one. Well, there are definitely a lot of me's who would have chosen to do something different here, but for now at least, this is the road I want to take.

My hero in the picture is Jesse Owens, who lived through a different kind of peace. The Olympic games of Berlin in 1936, where he and other black athletes won fourteen medals in the track and field, debunking the then held German believe in Aryan superiority.

Showers

I don't look forward to old age. It's different to the feelings everyone associates with death when they think about that for the first (or last) time- contemplating their own mortality. That's something I think I've learned to accept with a degree of dignity. There is a lot to be said about how one might die- whether it be for any causes or in a respectable manner etc etc. In fact now that I think about it I don't think I'm properly considering the more humiliating deaths such as all those categories of dementia but anyway. Old age though is something that carries a more elusive stigma and burden, not only to you- as the case is with most deaths- but to others as well. Usually too, as we have probably all experienced at one point or other, to those closest to us.

I love my grandmother. She isn't someone who I hold a great deal of respect for or someone I hold in any kind of esteem but for some reason I just love her, and I always will I expect. Through knowing my grandmother better I noticed things I think I can attribute to old age more than I can attribute to any aspect of her personality. Things that would normally call for a violent response if they were coming from anyone but her- and maybe Aeon Flux- because of what I've noticed lately.

yesterday I asked her whether there were any problems with the hot water heater, having had a number of cooler than normal showers in the morning before uni. She assured me most convincingly, and very quickly (perhaps to quickly thinking about it) that she had checked it only recently and that it was running on its "highest setting!". "Oh, ok, thanks grandma" I said gratefully, clutching the towel against my shoulders, still shivering from my bout with the elements indoors, quite happy with my response. I was convinced. There obviously wasn't any problem with the hot water heater at all, it must be in my head. Perhaps I had contracted a bit of pneumonia and I just felt colder than usual... After a week had gone by and I had the morning off I decided to see if I could do something about the shower situation. At the heater I found, to my surprise, that it had been turned down. This kept the water at a lower temperature with the expense of less gas.

This is something that my grandmother would do. But this isn't my current hypothesis (that I would love some feedback on). In fact, this is something my whole family might do. I might even do it in summer- well I'd probably forget- and that is my hypothesis! I, and most other's would forget, or couldn't care less, about things like this and other menial tasks (light switches count too) which might save us a sum on our bills each quarter because we are to busy with our lives (which in this case, unfortunately, involve hot showers).

While I don't think it was my grandmothers intention to make waking up in the morning any harder for me than usual, I do think she turned the heater down on purpose, not because she forgot, not because she wanted to see if the buttons worked, not even because she had a genuine desire to save on the gas bill, but because she had nothing else to do. Our minds- young and old, dementia ridden or not, need to be occupied to a certain extent. Maybe in the absence of everyday life- jobs, families, responsibility, things like this become more important. They occupy a larger part of our world and are thus more important to us. Turning things like lights and heaters off after a certain time is at the very least something to do.

And while I'm reasonably sure I'll be having a hot shower tomorrow, I'm almost just as sure that, given enough time, I'll be waking up to the same cold one's I'll forever associate with my stay at grandma's. At least I know she's around.

Hate list

So I've decided I spend far to much time talking to this one particular person, when there are really more interesting, entertaining and pleasant people out there to talk to. But it has taken me a long time to realise this, and I don't know why. I'm not sure if I never noticed these things about my friend or if they never bothered me before; or if, as is usually the case, it was a little of both. Now I've decided to notice them though I can't stop them from getting in the way and its harder and harder to ignore them, which you really have to do to have a normal conversation. I'm sure it's partly my fault too, I guess I have to accept that fact, but does that mean I should look closer at the whole situation- at them and at myself, analysing everything with a critical eye- or just forget about them.

The easier option seems to be more attractive right now.

I have a nasty side I didn't know about until recently. But maybe I did. It isn't anything that really makes sense, and it definitely isn't anything that has any basis in logic. But when I decide not to like someone, as I have in this case, some part of me- almost primal- changes. Like a switch, my thoughts of that person go from green to red. Even normal, positive things about them become clouded by what's happened [to me] and my whole attitude towards them changes for the worse. All the things I've done with them or for them I now see in a different light, from a new perspective, and it all happens so quickly. I don't know if it was just in this case but it really was like a switch, and it was one I took a long time to find, so maybe the relief I feel having found it just made it seem really quick... I don't know.

I've decided to put hypocrites on my hate list today. Why can't you just decide who/what you want to be and stick to it? There called principles and most of them aren't that complicated. Sticking to them though seems to be a problem for a lot of people. Today I was passed by a police van doing well over the limit without sirens or lights, just a desire to drive faster than the rest of us for no other reason than that the chances of being pulled over if your a police car are pretty slim. This wouldn't have normally bothered me. I would have just been happy about not having a cop tailing me on my way home. But I was recently pulled over by a cop for doing what they themselves, apparently, have no qualms about. What they of course, can pull off without receiving a five hundred dollar fine, or losing their license. I suddenly felt like breaking the law. This decision of mine was also influenced by my dad, who choose to be late to meet me one day and then decided to lecture me on the importance of keeping your appointments. Don't you realise what your saying? Should I tell you to shut up?

The easier option seems to be more attractive right now.

nothing

Another hero of mine