Time in the Desert

Ok, I had to take a quick minute to chuckle as I started blogging to the same song as the last entry........ NEXT!

Due to the amount of time I spent changing schools, doing correspondence, or just outright not attending school, I honestly don't have ages for some of these events.

We spent at least a year in Victoria, over 4 batches I think. We didn't go directly from Bowen to Victoria at any point in time. It was always via somewhere else like Mundubbera. Coincidentally, if you ever want to play a game of minigolf with bent home-made putters next to a giant fiberglass Mandarin then Mundubbera is the place for you.
Actually let's visit Mundubbera.
We lived here only once that I recall and It was for months. We picked the whole season as far as I know, and we saw the Big fibreglass Mandarin change.
It was a gift shop at one point, and an office or local museum at another. So there's a few references to the length of our stay.

I didn't go to school while we were here. And I didnt celebrate Christmas or a Birthday. So it was between March and December. The show rolled around. This was an exciting part of every small town. When the carnival came to town.
As usual there were dodgy rides and dodgy show folk, but it didn't faze me. The time I had spent with my grandparents at the showgrounds.(what are the odds the Satellite photos of Brisbane are from August. There's the show I grew up attending) So, as I was saying. The time spent around the showfolk as I grew up made me feel comfortable avoiding them.

I remember we begged for 3 days to get money to go to the show. And in the end scrounged enough to gain admission and have $3 each. Barely enough for a ride 20 years ago, or in some cases enough for two. Depends what sort of ride you went on.
We wandered around, watched the rides, listened to laughs and yells, looked at the showbags lovingly and eventually settled on a Tilt-A-Whirl Ride. It squeaked and groaned and generally felt unsafe. At the age of 9 or 10 I thought it wasn't a good idea. But I still got on. (Courage? Stupidity? Or just being a man....)
On our way out, we walked around the opposite direction. And saw a circus tent, but it was square. What could it be? A python of cables leading under one side suggested it was electronic. Ever notice that as a kid, even in the face of overwhelming evidence you never jumped to a firm conclusion. Everything still only suggested or implied.
Armed with this new found suggestion of fact we circled to find an entrance and enter the tent. Lights flashed, Beeps sounded and the roar of artificial gunfire from spaceships filled the air.
It was an arcade. A mobile arcade.
Bear in mind at this point in life I had never lived in, nor visited a major city. The concept of many videogames being together had never been considered. I wandered for hours. I scrounged the ground for coins and found many in the grass. Not enough, but still I got to play so many games I had never seen.
I was in love, this is where I beleive my love for videogames came from. It was as much a technological achievement as it was raw gunnery. Even though I'd had videogames before. We had a sega at home.

I hadn't reached the moment of jaw dropping awe yet. That was a few minutes later, when I finally made my way behind a row of machines I thought was the last.
Wooden games. Wood and metal and glass. Old fashioned antique looking games youd associate with the term "Penny Arcade". These games were exquisite pieces of engineering and took skill to play.
My favourite, which I lost many coins in over the next few days was a key puzzle.
The game consisted of 5 hanging keys, all suspended in the centre. And a curved base. This base had keyholes in it.
As you inserted a coin, a trapdoor at the back opened revealing a stash of coins, 10 or 15 of them to be precise. And one keyhole under each key would change colour. (there was a track or row of seven keyholes for each key. Three per side and one directly underneath.)
Now the keys started swinging, and one of the keys was red. So one keyhole under the red key would switch to red. And one would turn white on each of the other tracks. You needed to press a button to stop the keys. Your prize of coins was awarded based on how close each key was to it's designated keyhole. The red one if locked exactly would release all of the coins in the treasure compartment for your winning pleasure, and possibly add more coins if other keys lined up.
I became very good at watching the keys and timing the lock right. So whenever I found a coin or two, I would go and try to win some more. The only reason I won money was because I waited until other kids saw me play it and win. So they would try after me and put money back in the machine. Someone had to.

Apart from home made minigolf at the giant Mandarin, the rest of my time here was forgettable. Very much so. Just a caravan park, few belongings and afternoons watching the Ninja Turtles. I didn't have a room or my own space here. I didn't need it. I was only a guest.

We Met.......

I recall meeting Paul. At least it's what I presume was when we met.

We walked outside and I was told who he was, I looked at his Tattoo's.....Some had words, some were just pictures, and he shook my hand, made some face and laughed. I was immediately deposited into the station wagon via the rear door.
My sister followed soon after and I think we left on the same day.
Set off for a new life of excitement and adventure.

Now the next 5 years was a long and adventurous time. During this period we travelled (more than once) from Bowen to Melbourne and everywhere along the way. We picked grapes, oranges, cucumbers, mandarins, okra, button squash, tomatoes and zucchini.
My education went from correspondence, to local schools and even a period where I didn't go to school at all. Amazing I turned out like I did.

Now this was a learning experience in life, not so much through our education system, but by being a part of the world.

Some highlights from Bowen

• In Bowen, we picked tomatoes, and lived in a caravan on the beach. Not exactly on the beach but not far. It was maybe 80 metres from our caravan to the entrance of the park, and the beach was directly opposite the road from there. You could run from home to the beach without being worn out. My best friend here (friendships are always distance based) was Patrick. He was my age and had a dog. A Samoyed. Huge and white. Ironically named Snowy. Patrick would become very upset if Snowy did not respond immediately when called. It often resulted in him yelling "NOOO-EEEEEEEEEE" at the top of his lungs.
  
  
• I learnt to drive a Tractor here. I was only 10, yet I drove. Originally my job was to hand out buckets for the tomato pickers. Big 20l plastic buckets. And I would dutifully spread them out, two at the end of each row, just enough to fill if you picked one hands or two hands (fruit picking terms). And the pickers appreciated it. However at 5c a bucket, I earned my $10 or so a day very hard. Then I met John, the driver, who said I should just throw stacks of buckets (30 in a stack) in the general vicinity of the rows and the pickers could sort it out. So that turned my daily work into less than an hour. The rest of the time I was taught to drive the tractor. Within a few weeks, John used to kick back on the trailer and I would get to work at 5:30 get on my tractor and go drive around the farm delivering stuff.
  
  
• I used to buy things for my family, and for the other pickers. I remember one night on the way home. We had just been paid (in cash in little envelopes) oh and did I mention I didn't really work there. The pickers paid me themselves. So I told them how many buckets, and it added up to them (I'm sure I was smarter than most of them, but I never lied or ripped anyone off) and they all gave me some money. I had $140. A HUGE amount of money for a 10yr old. And I asked the driver of the Transit van to stop. We pulled into a Caltex (I think every servo in rural Australia is a Caltex) and I went in. I came out, some $40 poorer, but had 18 ice creams and everyone gladly at their drumstick. It was a nice afternoon and it made people smile.
  
  
• Another highlight was the animals. You may not realise this, but fruit deforms easily. Most fruits are actually flowers of some kind, and the petals or stamen mesh together and fatten up. Look it up sometime....
  So anyway, they deform easily. Two flowers next to each other become one.....And we had a collection of deformed or really weird looking vegetables and fruits. In Bowen it was Zucchini's. And they were often made into animals. You see, Paul was a chef. not a cook, a Chef, An incredible chef, but due to a hefty collection of Tattoo's and a nice drinking habit he didn't work as one very often.
  So he learnt the skills of an artist(catch THAT reference) along the way.
  I would often sit down to dinner and on the corner of my plate was a dragon or a mermaid, or a flock of sheep. What had previously been a deformed cucumber quickly became a dragon complete with claws, fire and smoke and a long curvy tail.
  
  
• HUGE sidestep here. But while we speak of Paul's food creations. At Delfino's in Hervey Bay, Paul used to make a sculpture or display to go with each weeks buffet. My favourite Friday night excitement was a Prawn ski-ing on a blue mashed potato river behind a potato boat. Driven by a herring. It was detailed and precise and it had a wake and all.
  
  
• We used to play Pontoon. 21. Blackjack. I still think they are all the same game today. No major difference. We would sit around the table in our caravan and play with 20c pieces. I think we started with $5 each. Hours later we would pack up, fold the table down into a bed and go to sleep.
  
  
• I went to school for a little while in Bowen. It was the first time I had anyone make fun of my white hair. Which wasn't too bad, I would lose it soon anyway, so no problems there. But I caught the bus to school for the first time. With my sister. Once we started school, we didn't work on the farm anymore, so no more money. One morning I saw a fox. It ran across the road right in front of our bus. I don't think I have ever seen a real fox since.
  
  
• I remember the day we arrived in Bowen very clearly. We came into our caravan park, and a little while later went for a walk on the beach. It was so exciting. Coming from Desert Victoria, or small town NSW to the beach in north Queensland. We found coconuts and shells. We built a fort from palm leaves and collected driftwood. And finally we came home and Mum and Paul had a surprise for us. We had a book each. A copy of the "Mammoth Book of Jokes" to entertain us while out on the farm. This mammoth book had hundreds of pages, and lasted me less than 12 hours. *sigh* I think there were about 200 jokes in the book, maybe more. But they were repeated a lot. The jokes were used for cartoons later in the book etc.
  
  
• My prized possession at this point in my life was "Rhythm Stix" a virtual set of drumsticks you could play in the air. I had the first ones that came out. They had a spiral cord that attached to a belt pack the size of a HUGE Walkman. and made 2 different drum noises, seemingly at random. But I bought them with my own money and I loved them. Played virtual drums for hours.
  

Even though I lived and worked with people. I was smarter than they were. I was literate and curious in a rigid, illiterate world. I was only a guest.

Changes

Right off the bat, does anyone ever watch/listen to/respond to blogs that have your current track?
Hrmm Personally I don't see it. But if you feel it might provide some kind of explanation.
Heartbeats - Jose Gonzalez
Which you can hear in the Bravia "Bouncing Balls" ad.
Or this little piece on LED Throwies.

Now, back to the main event.

School carried on in the same vein. Hot lunches a few times a week, more exciting games. (is catch and kiss still played in the modern playground?) And a delightful english girl who had my attention solely because she sounded different. I can still hear her voice as one afternoon she grabbed my arm after being asked to leave some game and said "We dont even want to play, we want to go over there, Dont we?" and I was escorted from the game.

We also spent a lot of time with my cousin. He was wild. I'm still not sure to this day if he was just a lot of fun or if he had ADHD, or maybe they just gave him a lot of sugar. But we were mischief with a Capital M.
Should I mention at this point in time in my life, I'd been to hospital several times. Adenoids, Grommets, Stitches in my head (twice) and to this day my mother thinks I was trying to fly. Well sorry folks, as much as I like Supes today, back then I was already smart enough to know I couldn't fly. I slipped. I climbed out my window and chased a bird across the "awning" that covered the garden downstairs. A wrong foot placed and SWISH, Little Kal sailing through the air and hitting the ground. Horrible day.

So changes.
We moved. Packed up the house and left. Moved interstate, all the way to Camira. Suddenly things were different. I wasn't known as being smart. I'd learnt different things at school. And there were bigger kids at school.
I wasn't enjoying things at all. Until I aced a spelling test for the week, suddenly I was seen differently. I got to help paint the planets when we studied the solar system.

Our neighbours here were the first I can remember meeting. A single mother and her 2 boys. All german.
They taught me so many things, but strangely no german.
We ate toast with Salt on it. Nothing but salt. To this day, it's an occasional snack, occasionally meaning once in the last 5 years. It's not good for you * DONT TRY THIS AT HOME* But it's something that just tastes like the past. They also taught me to eat porridge dry. In a glass with sugar. This I did not enjoy, but Kal is not the one to rock the boat, so dry porridge it was.
Years later, I'm not sure if Yurg and Kai were abstract, strange foreigners or just really poor...
But I can assure you wholeheartedly, that as my life moved on over the next few years, I would be poor. Poorer than I think any of you readers have been.

The three biggest changes in Camira in Year 3 were fairly profound for my developing life.

• My family found out I liked a girl
• I made a real best friend
• I lost my father

The girl was nothing substantial, I was 7. But she had shining blonde hair and she smiled all the time. I forget her name, it was unusual, and I waved at her from the backseat as we sat at the local shopping centre. She looked, I called her name and I never heard the end of it.

My real best friend was Matthew. We were inseperable, liked the same things, but always had opposites. Ie we would watch Transformers together, but both wanted to be a different Transformer. Months later when we moved, Matthew wrote to me. I wrote back a couple of times, but as most people do, the letters got further apart and eventually stopped. A habit with penpals I would continue for close to another 20 years....

And my father. Well, he wasn't my father. Have we covered that yet? Well readers you've missed out.
We'll need to step back briefly, this is back in Murwillumbah that I found out I was lied to. We were looking through photo albums for a photo of a specific event or memory at the time, and I saw a photo of my Mum with a redheaded man. "Who's that?" I asked, waiting for tales of an Adventuring Uncle who I immediately presumed was an inventor.
It was my father I was advised. And I innocently turned to my father and told him he looked different. And recall my heart hitting the floor and me sitting down as I was told it wasn't David. It was my father. My brain took seconds to piece together the obvious but unspoken truth.
My father wasn't my father. Which was incredibly complicated to face. I wouldn't be quite as shocked by anything for another 10 years, when at 16 years of age I met my father.

So I come home one day and well I've pushed it out of my mind. We all sat down and talked, David was moving out. An unheard of concept for a smalltown family, I didn't even realise people's fathers could just leave. ( I refused at this stage to think about where mine was). What was going on? Would we move to?
No, we wouldnt. We would stay here with the neighbours nearby, the rusty trampoline, aluminimum walled pool and rusty swingset.
And we did.
Until Months later..............Mum came home and took us to our Aunties house. We were introduced to Paul. Tattoos, swearing, smoking, a beer in one hand and a station wagon we could climb all over. We liked him immediately. And not long after this, we left again. With Paul. Left our lives, our friends, our family and my mother started running away from life. The first of a trail of mistakes. But it was the start of a series of adventures I have not forgotten and that guide my life today.

Even then, I didn't stay long. From this point in my life, I would be only a guest.

Memories of Trees

Let's break out of our onward journey through time. This is a special occasion and that's always worth breaking habits for.

I remember so many beautiful xmas' but 2 stand out amongst all the others.

The first and stand out one is many years ago, I would have been 10 or 11 and had been living with my grandparents for a few months. My mother decided travelling all over the countryside with us wasn't very good so we were sent to visit. Which I didn't mind. My grandparents lived in a showground, so always exciting things happening there.

So back to the story, we arrived about a week before Christmas to see Mum and my stepfather again. Hervey Bay is a beautiful place and we ended up living here for a few years.
SO it was a small house, nothing fancy, cheap weatherboards in the same faded shade of "formerwhite" as every other weatherboard house. I was excited to be here with Mum again and remember thinking, this is not an expensive house, but it's a hell of a lot nicer than that tractor shed we lived in. SO excitement was building.

Xmas eve we had a nice dinner with my aunt and uncle who lived next door. Literally next door, within a month we would have a pulley from one kitchen to the other and a toyworld phone system acting as an intercom.

Bedtime arrived and I toddled off to sleep. I read my dangermouse book again. Mum read some with me. It was another one of this things I just didn't get. Colonel K. I pronounced it as COL-ON-EL not as Kernel. Even though I watched the show. I just pronounced it wrong. I suspect i just figured the word out on my own when younger and my photographic memory just stored it. Pity it stored it wrong.

I awoke early the next morning to my sister shaking me, "Kal, Kal come look its HUGE"
And I dropped off my bunk with an almighty thud which I'm sure woke parents for miles. And we made our way into the loungeroom, I literally stopped in my tracks and did a doubletake.

Here's little me, walking into the room, head down, eyes being rubbed. And wrapping paper comes into view. I look up and see a tree that dominates the room. ( there had been a smaller tree before now) And a stack of presents that would make Santa himself groan at the thought.

It can't have been more than 5 minutes before my Mum and Stepdad came out. Paul walked in in boxer shorts and a blue singlet, tattoo's proudly shining in the morning light. I was completely comfortable with this. What a surreal change this was from the home I'd grown up in. Fireplaces, jewels, leather furniture and deep deep carpets you could hide in.

But I've moved off track, they smiled at us and asked us to sit and then started to hand us presents. It was always a division of gifts first with my mother. You were handed all of your gifts and then opened them. Your own pace. None of this hand you one by one and see what you looked like with each gift.

So I sat there, carefully eyeing off my stack. An enormous bounty of goodies. And I peeled back the paper on the first one. It was enormous, as tall as I was when sitting, and the corner of paper showed me a sherriff's star. I was excited, not even knowin the contents of it, that star alone was all I would need.
The package ended up being the entire township for Marshall Bravestarr and further packages contained Tex Hexf, Thirty-Thirty the robot horse and the support characters and villians. Everyone except Bravestarr himself. Even a Motorised future stagecoash. I had never even seen Marshall Bravestarr, and to this day never laid eyes on the cartoon. But that didn't detract from how cool he was and the adventures we had. These action figures were enormous and the bar and jail and Kerium mine were fun and easy to use.
I only found out a few days ago that Marshall Bravestarr was a native american. The things we learn almosty 20 years later............

But that was an amazing morning, we were all together, it was fun, exciting, and I got the whole set. As superficial as it seems, I was only small and I had everything. Every package refers to friends, or "see also" "Also available" and I had it. Everything on every packet was in my hands, I didn't stop playng with them until dinnertime, and then afterwards I went back until I was ordered to bed.
(Next morning I found an unopened present in my pile of wrapping paper which turned out to be "Phaser Force" a toy laser gun set with targets you could wear on your chest and head or place on a shelf for "Phaser Target FUN!")

The next I recall is from a few years ago, I saw my entire family on the one day, for the first time in my life. Not all of the Aunts and Uncles, but a few of them. My Mother, a sister, Uncle, Auntie, a couple of friends, and my father. Which was a big occasion. It was spectacular. I was firmly in the "Parents" category by then, no more time at the kids table and I gave out more presents than I received, it didn't diminish the day in any way.

It's easy for us to lose track of Christmas, what it means and what it's about. There isnt a defined rule for everyone, this is the one time of year you should do your own thing. But I do suggest you find what Christmas means to you. Your place in it all.

No point wasting one, it only comes once a year, and you never know, you could be only a guest.

Merry Xmas to you all, especially to Boff and HG.

It starts somewhere

Even school......... I'm not sure why school appealed to me. Later in life it didn't. Learning did, and still does, but school itself lost appeal. Too many pitfalls to get in the way of pure learning.

So it's the beginning of the 80's and I live directly across the road from school. It's an infants school. Only prep through year 2. So no bigger kids. I'm really in support of these broken up environments, although it won't matter in the modern internet connected world.

So I'm standing around in the lounge room, the whole family is there, I mean literally. We had grandparents, cousins, uncles and aunties, Little Kal and cousin Wayne heading off to school for the first time was a big occasion.
We got on our uniforms and then they brought our bags, brand new backpacks for each of us. Identical except for colour. I had a bright red one and Wayne had a blue one.
They were upright, square and had a single clip. It was like an airline seatbelt, a HUGE clasp but we did like that it had a reflector built into it, like one off the back of your bike. Truly school was going to be an awesome experience with a start like this.

Across the road we went, and up the hill, this hill would amaze me daily for years. It was so so steep and about 50m top to bottom, quite a workout for little legs.

We were lined up into grades, boys and girls in seperate lines (which no-one complained about at the time) and we moved into classrooms and learnt the basics. Who our teacher would be and how things worked.

I don't know if it was a private school or not, but we had hot lunches. We paid for them, but you could order a pie or a sausage roll in the morning before school and at lunch it would be brought out to you. And they were beautiful, I still remember how they tasted and it's why I'm so picky about meat pies today even. You can't beat those.

Mrs Irish was the teacher for Prep and year 1, she was dark haired and very sweet. Genuinely loved all of us and remembered everyone.
She recognised me on sight when I came back to visit when I was 10. And later 21.Now that's devotion.
I did not look the same each decade that passed.

There are some key things that stand out from the infants school.
Highlights

• A school play about a magic department store or a fifty cent piece ( it's a little blurry, but I played a cat and had to "meow" 3 lines)
• A fancy dress parade where I went as a Tea Bag
• Alcohol based photocopies. ( I didn't know they used alocohol back then obviously, but they were purple and smelt awful, but whenever you smelt it you knew you were getting a handout)

We used to play a lot of games, every lunch break we would gather in our little groups and let our imaginations run wild.
I remember Louise, who I planned to marry wanted to play "flying horses" which consisted of everyone being given a flying horse name and running down or across the hill as fast as you could with your arms stretched out. As far as I recall I was the only boy in the game. All of the other flying horses were girls.......I guess I liked women from an early age.

One of the other games we played consisted of an incredible journey. You can guess where we got this idea from. There was a play gym shaped like a long arch, this was used to simulate the teeth. And we the scientific explorers would enter through the throat and make sure this person was ok.
We knew all about how it worked, the "Life education" van came by every few months and taught us about organs and the important stuff.

I remember one day being pulled out of my line and moved to another. I told Mrs Irish I was in the wrong line, but she said I belonged in the new one. I was apparently too smart. The prep class was not going to be good for me, because i could read already. I'd learnt from Sesame Street and kids tv and then rehearsed it from my sister's books. I used to listen to her read them to mum and I'd memorise them.
Then I'd take the books and read them myself, working out the words matched with what was said.
A big start for a small boy.
Unfortunately this would be my only step up in the world. Moved ahead a single grade, forever destined to be smaller and younger than my classmates.
Never again in my school years would my intellect be pushed towards something greater......

Things carried on at the school in normal fashion. My sister and I continued to spend alternate weekends with my Nana.

Nana's house was at the top of a nearby hill. It was enormous, swimming pool, many bedrooms, floor to cieling windows etc, years later this went from being a nice house to a sign of wealth as I learnt more. But I'll discuss Nana's house in depth later.

I never really liked peanut butter. I mean from the start I didn't enjoy it and one day my lunch got mixed up. I had my sister's sandwiches by mistake, too late. She had eaten the vegemite ones. I had nothing to do but take them home.

This was an important lesson in life. Mum was annoyed that I brought them home. So I got in trouble for wasting them, even though I clearly hadn't been responsible for the mistake.
Next day I was sent to school with a note and some sandwiches.
Lunch time arrives and I'm pulled aside and sat at a table with a peanut butter sandwich.
It was cut up and I was made to eat it. I felt horribly sick and I cried. I was forced to eat this sandwich I didn't like. For no reason. Alternatives were available, there was no reason I should be made to do this.

So I learnt that people react to things and make demands.Even if they have no reason to.

Lesson learnt: In my life I do not make people do things for no reason. I have staff under me, I have managed businesses and I am a father. I make decisions for a reason and can rationalise all of them. Don't do things to the people in your life you can't justify.

I learnt to tie my shoelaces in the back of the car. We were going to get an ice cream and I undid them and kept trying to get them tied again, I eventually did it 20 minutes later. It would be years before I could do it consistently. Until 12 I wore Velcro or tied knots in them.
One of those strange things I just didn't get how to do.

Does it matter what I couldnt do? I'm only a guest.

Who am I really?

I know there's questions on who I am.
I know some people who read this, and they don't know it's me. I've even been passed the link....

So let's go back to the beginning..... All the way back to the beginning. Because who I am is not a name. It isn't a photograph. It's me. All of me.

The earliest I can remember clearly is sitting at home watching sesame street. I was too young to go to school, and I was waiting for my older sister to come home. My mother was in the kitchen making apple crumble, which I didn't eat, but I loved helping make it. Breaking up biscuits to go in the bowl, watching Mum peel the apples, the apple peel reaching to the floor in one long spiral.
This was in Murwillumbah, the small town I grew up in.

It was a beautiful house, and I lived there, right next to the Pacific Motorway with my mother, father, and older sister. Years later I would find out unsettling things about this. But for now, these were the occupants.

My room was at the back of the house, and I had 2 windows, one looking out the backyard and onto acres of canefields. And the other looked across at the neighbour's house.
You may think I had a noisy home, but we didn't. Carpetted floors and lots of room kept the noise we all made to ourselves, and the houses opposite the freeway were down a hill, so any noise from cars and trucks simply went over us.

Our loungeroom was large, and on the front corner of the house. Exactly opposite my room. I used to sit in there and play games on some video game system we had, or I would watch movies or listen to records.
My favourite videotape had film clips on it.
Some I knew for sure we watched are :
Summer Loving - Grease SOundtrack
We built this city - Starship

I loved the film clip for starship, these enormous cities I had never seen before, people dancing and singing on the street, and being chased by enormous fluffy dice, rolling down the road behind them.
I was hooked, it was loud and wild and incredibly exciting.
The presence of Starship places us in 1985, I was 6 at this stage, so firmly going to school.
It's difficult to piece things together at this point, there are 27 years of memories to sort, and at that age, MANY MANY things were of no significance to me.

While we are looking at music, I used to go to my Nana's house every second weekend. (we took it in turns) and she used to let me watch one of her video's.
It was a Tom Jones concert. Tom sang and danced around a huge fancy stage with some scantily clad women. I think this is one of the moments that defined where I see women.

They were beautiful, stunningly so, like you would imagine a pile of gold and jewels. I remember thinking how happy they all looked. They were dressed up (I knew this wasn't normaly daywear from things I saw) and they were so happy. Tom made them happy, they were happy singing and dancing and I loved them all.
Also worth noting, and I'm very confident of this, none of them were sticks. Real women, they had curves, which I would come to appreciate later in life......... But I was enthralled with them and their feathers and glitter and jewels.

I wanted one day to give women jewels, and feathers and glittery underwear (I don't think this one works anymore) and to make them happy. Didn't everyone deserve to be happy.

So there I was, no more than 8 years old, enthralled at watching Tom dance and sing and suddenly the flood started. Water was pouring down the stage Tom was on, It cascaded down the stairs, missed the women by inches, missed Tom, washed away a little bridge he'd just danced across and carried on.

Now THAT's showmanship.

Tomorrow we go to school.
It's not unusual to be loved by anyone, it is unusual to be only a guest.

How do you tell

Someone Kal know's thinks they've changed.
They've grown up, moved on and become a bigger person.

I don't think they have. I think it's a game, a deadly dangerous game with their life and someone elses.

There are things I count as being an adult, that contistute growing up.

Responsibility is first. For everything you do. I don't make excuses. I don't beg for forgiveness, all of my mistakes are my own. I am the one who was late. I am the one who didnt return the call. It's all my fault.

And consideration. How does what I'm doing affect someone else. It does, and you know it does.

If you can't follow either of those, then you have not grown up and it's unfair of you to declare that you have.

One person in particular, has regressed as far as I can see.
Spending your time with irresponsible people and taking actions to hurt someone does not a grown up make.

Do you hear me? Grow up and act like the adult you claim to be. Stop hiding behind excuses.
How's that for directness....


And while my mood sits as bitter as it does, what the hell is wrong with the average person. Why can't a decent conversation be held....Why can't the truth be told.........

I gave a speech last weekend, which I sorely missed. Maybe I should move back into a speaking job, I love talking and the deep voice of Kal overpowers all.

Then again.......why get a job I'd enjoy. I'm only a guest.

Foot Steps

Often life is about following in foot steps.
We strive to follow those in front, whether it be a relative, a teacher or a self chosen hero.

But often the steps we follow the most, the hardest steps to follow are the little things. Something small being done by someone we know and we can't follow it.
For some people this is something like not being able to say "I love you" back to a partner and for others its simply being monogamous...

For me............I don't think I've found it.

I beleive in honesty, brutal and forward.
Yet I can't break someone's trust.

If I KNOW someone is going to be hurt, how do you ruin one friends impression of you to save anothers. Does it matter if he will never find out I knew in advance...

Inside it does. I know the mistakes. I know the errors. I know the time I havent spoken out.

I'm afraid to defend a friend who was verbally attacked.
The office environment I am in is malicious and evil. It's a genuinely harmful place to work.
Constantly at one another's throats, the pack of jackals seeks a new throat to devour.
So she was the target.
First how she spoke, then something she did, and as they continued on self reinforcing, supporting one another's claims, they needed to stay in the game...

Like most bitter and self righteous attacks they lost focus. Suddenly the issue was that she had helped. She had done something of her own free will and of no harm to anyone. And they all finally had the same point.

It was raised again 4 times. The same point. The same comments, and not once did it sound like she had done something wrong. If you're curious what she did?

She made 4 phone calls from home. 4 calls to find the right company a customer needed.

Is this where we live in? Is this the world I want to be a part of?

I cannot change the actions of others, I cannot make others see the error of their ways.
And sadly I cannot speak up when someone I cared about is being ravaged by the jackals.

The superman has let the world down again.
Suddenly I feel not so super.
Would anyone else notice I didnt speak up? I'm only a guest.