Who would of thought I would be wearing even a shirt at this time of year. December 21st, a couple of weeks into the Queensland summer and it's cold outside. The moon in the night sky is shining bright, stars a-lit and the air is soft, light, and cool. If I had just woken up from a fair couple of months slumber, I would probably have thought I'd slept a few months more.
The change in the weather is actually something I would of looked forward to much more if I had knew it were coming and that I didn't have work to attend. Either things were unpreventable but I guess with summer being so unpredictable, it could of just rained another day and that would be it. But I guess with even the few hours I've had to really experience it, it's made me feel slightly tingly inside; good tingly that is.
Work happenings today were pretty unpredictable as well. Monday nights are usually clean up and prep nights where I would be cleaning stoves and changing foils and then preping for the week of cooking. But as uncertain as the food industry and it's consumers are these days, we were pretty constant throughout the night. Even after the total blackout we had which left only the gas burners a light, people were still wanting to come in for a feed. I'm not quite sure how dinner by a candle-light makes you feel but cooking by candle-light made me feel fairly content for some odd reason. Without the fridges buzzing, and the fans producing the noise fans make, it was just me, my gas and the clanking of the pans.
The sounds heard in the kitchen are often clouded by the noises of the circuits. Very rarely do you get to hear the jets of the blue flamed stoves nor the sound onions make when they hit the pan. Even the droplets of oil are heard, the minute sounds they make are quite magnificent. Cooking in the dark made me feel like myself. It felt like I was on a stage but no-one was watching, it was just me in an empty room, doing what I was doing. It was kind of strange but it was a good feeling.
The lights turned on about a half an hour later and all returned to normal. Even Tien missed the quietness of the silences so I guess it's not just me who's a little mental. I spent time at the gym in a much similar fashion, I've actually been in the same sort of state for the past couple of weeks now to be honest. Once my music pumps I feel like I'm alone, that I've only got myself to impress. People who walk past me or look at me, or even brush against me don't get a second look, or a first in that fact. By 12 o'clock I'm usually in the gym by myself anyway, and I get to enjoy the ambient sounds of silence, and the freedom I have having the whole gym to myself.
I had a couple of flicks at my favourite spot down on the river. With much of fresh getting into the system, I wasn't too optimistic but with the moon so bright and the sky so clear, it was just the perfect opportunity to get some fresh air and admire the surroundings. I decided to take the inside road home today and what a trip it was. Windows down and music pumping, I admired the hundreds of lights above me when I drove under the Christmas decorations in Southbank. It reminded me of those scenes in Canadian movies where people were seen running through streets littered with maple leaves. It reminded me of the scene specifically from Big fish when the main character joins the circus, funky Christmas lights used to light the grounds.
I drove by Jetts in Annerley and scouted for more dedicated people than myself. I found no-one.
I think I've become much more independent these days, a much longed shift from being more of less lonely. I enjoy this feeling.
Do you ever get the feeling that when times get hard, you seem to be the only person fending it? Does it ever feel like no-one can really understand what your going through and those that say they do are lying?
At times when I feel like I'm living each day to try and survive the next, it seems as if I'm all alone. It seems that I'm stuck in a place where unless I work as hard as I can, there may be a possibility of losing my job to someone who wants it more. I sit here and wonder, whether the harder I work actually benefits me or just makes someone else richer?
Yesterday we caught up with an old friend. Janice and I joined Christos (an old Greek friend from state high) for a fishing session down the coast; showing him how Viets do it. Its always amazing how great friendships endure the tests of time. The reunion of old friendships whether good or bad can be represented by the duration between the sight of each other and the first words. I always find joy in the look in their eyes, their familiar expressions and familiar feelings.
Its funny how there's usually a higher pitch voice associated with mostly incomprehensible words and sounds to help express our feelings. Oi's and awwws and much profanity exisits in the initial stages of dialogue but after the double handed hand shake which may or may not lead to a hug (depending on how close you are), or a straight hug (which signifies a much closer friendship), words seem to make more sense. I was amazed at how much he hadn't changed and I'm assuming he thought the same with me.
Janice popped out of the passenger seat and after the usual questions and answers we were off to the coast for what ended up as another memorable sunday session; another story for another blogging. What prompted this blog with such a provocative title describes of my rather opposite opinion to that of the portrayed, that is of much appreciation and respect for the first generation of Australian occupied immigrants. Our parents.
I have until now often mis-represented the words immigrants thinking that only the Vietnamese were represented. I’d forgotten that Australia is a country comprised of much multiculturalism which is vastly represented by immigrants seeking asylum from their mother country in hope for a better future for their families. Christos helped me realize that there are many of us whom are born from first generation Australian immigrants. He made me realize that my parents weren’t the only people who worked under the sun for very little, every single day, to get us to where we are now.
We talked alot about what life has chucked at us through the years since graduating highschool. He’s a painter now and aspires to own his own business in the next couple of years. When talking about family friends and relatives, he describes that the Greek community is very tight with everyone knowing everyone, a most probable result of his recent blooming romance with his childhood sweetheart. Not unlike myself and Janice, he explains of the hardships involved in day to day life which relates to just how I’ve been feeling. As it seems, he too feels the pressures of day to day life of juggling work to pay the bills to stay alive. Working 7 days a week to look after his mum whom all I can say is not as healthy as she was 20 years ago, it seems that it’s not just myself that seems to fending off problems with a big long stick.
Sometimes I wonder if we really do appreciate how much we’ve gotten as a result of what our parents have done for us. I wonder if the hardwork we’ve put in so far has benefited us in anyway or just made someone else richer. I think about it again and I think that without hardwork there is no reward, we may not be free from the hardships of today but we can at least learn to appreciate how much our parents have given to us so we can provide a better future for our future generations.
Maybe it is for them to know appreciation rather than have to experience it. Maybe it's not such a good thing?
A memory is like salt; the right amount brings out the flavour but too much ruins it. If you live in the past all the time, you'll find yourself with no present to remember.
