Trevi, Paintball, Parties, Driving, Walking

Weekend of last was a bigger one – and it was coming off the back of a fairly hectic week at work with added complications of emergency trips to city during work time. I’m booked to fly to New Caledonia on September 13, and I only recently realised I should get a passport for this purpose, hence the last minute flurry of buerocracy.

So I rushed into the city on the peak hour train Friday morning and was reminded how great it is to NOT commute like a big commuter. Ugh. Found myself in the foyer of some government tower on creek street at 9am, and before long I was before the passport lady. She was sighing and asking me “are you sure you brought nothing along with your CURRENT address on it?” And I was all, “No M’aam”. She frigged about for a bit then decided she’d accept the application anyway. I paid the extra $80 to get it within two days just to be on the safe side, and caught the train back for a nice big ten hour day at the office in Toowong.

On Saturday I woke and cleaned my clothes, then my pink shack before strolling over to the house of my sweet sister, under which I store my car. The plan was to cruise up to Samford and meet up with Nick(elodeon) and his gang and we’d all play paintball to celebrate his 21st birthday.

So I started up the falcon and idled the big car through the tight streets of Toowong. Before long we were bowling through outer suburbs and loving the trip.

The route to Samford was fairly simple, we’d literally head up South Pine Road, then left onto Samford road, and follow it all the way out into the bush till we saw a paintball sign. Somehow I stuffed up and half an hour we were driving up mt Glorious instead of getting to Samford. Quote of the week goes to Estelle who said as we powered up the climb “If there is a paintball arena at the top of this I am going to be fucking astonished”

It was at that point I pulled over to re-evaluate the situation and pee. Whilst in the bushes doing my thing a small roofless four wheel drive full of girls flew past, their hair blowing about in the wind. They beeped and their laughter trailed down the mountain after them.

I then got back into the car and we turned it round with gusto, smoke peeling from both rear tyres, taking off back down the mountain. We were now running late and I drove to match. Of course we soon caught up to the girls and realised how freaky this would seem from their perspective, the big green car that was originally pointed in the opposite direction to their travel, suddenly looming up behind them. Luckily they didn’t freak out too much.

We eventually reached the paintball place about half an hour late. There were like forty participants or so, everyone was suited up and ready to go and some big dude with a beard and earrings got up and started going through the do’s and dont’s [DONT shoot someone at less than 5m range, don't shoot at birds, etc etc] We heard the induction but then everyone took off out onto the arena. Over the walls we heard a further five mins of explanation occur, then the gunfire and yelling commenced.

Meanwhile Estelle and I dealt with abrupt women on the counter choosing a “pack” and working out how much paint to buy when we had nfi how much we would use.

We managed to sort out something and bought our packs, got suited up and put on helmets. Wearing the latter felt akin to placing ones head in a vice. We were then handed guns and ushered out into a warzone.

The paintball area is basically a massive hillside property with dense vegetation, clearings, bridges, forts, trenchs and dugouts. We got out there and realised the stupidity of the situation. We had no idea what team we were on, what the objective was, there was a hail of gunfire going in all directions.

Wtf had we gotten ourselves into? Everyone seemed to be shooting at everything. We could not tell which were our enemies. I grabbed Estelle and we ran into an empty fort. I decided we should at least learn how to use our guns. I shot mine at a wall. BANG. One paintball, exploded bang on the mark where I shot it.

Awesome. I instructed estelle to shoot at the wall and she did so in kind.

A couple more mins past and we got up the courage to venture out of our protective ford. We still however we still faced the issue of not knowing who to shoot at. So we ran down the side of the hill and hid until the round was over. I shot at a few trees.

The round ended with a whistle blast. Everyone crawled out of their hiding places, some dripping in paint, and gathered round the referee while the objectives of the next round were explained. I noticed we were wearing green helmets. Half the other people were wearing black. I realised we needed to “shoot the blacks”. This became a lame running gag of mine throughout the afternoon. We realised paintball isn’t going to kill us and decided to make the most of the experience. I bought us some more paint and we all moved to another area of the property to play capture the flag around some massive dams with bridges, motes and steep terrain.

The the round began, and we sprinted into the heat of battle. Suddenly me and my little sister were shooting up the place. I watched with glee as Estelle pumped paint into some big guy with a balaclava. I shot a few more peeps then copped one in the finger which was quite painful.

Several more rounds followed and we held our own. Right near the end of the game I got shot in the head. I was eccstatic. The afternoon drew to a close and I blasted the remainder of my paint all over the place like some mad idiot. By the end I had put a hundred dollars worth of paint through the gun. My head was starting to hurt a little and I was glad to pull off the gross overalls.

From paintball we proceeded home with the radio loud and the windows down, revelling in the saturday afternoon vibe. Estelle and I agreed that while we did pretty good, this mock battle shit is not our cuppa tea. We’re more at home riding waves on a hot afternoon, playing our guitars or some other form of activity sans aggression.

After busting through the suburbs on Nick’s tail trying to catch up to him, we reached my shack, bogged up on a heap of tofu stir fry, showered then proceeded to Estelle’s. I bought a bottle of trevi on the way and our evening commenced.

An hour later I had finished the trevi and we were walking to the house of Nick in St Lucia to have some more drinks. Estelle got the bright idea of racing to Toowong to catch the 412 which was supposedly going to take us to the 5-ways and hence almost to Nick’s house. So after me, Estelle and Grace raced to catch the bus, it kindly deposited us near UQ, and hence further away than we began.

This minor fact mattered not by this stage however, as the girls had plastic drink bottles full of wine in their handbags, and I had purchased more beer from a conveniently placed bottle shop, which I drank as we walked down the street, without a care in the world of getting caught. We also had a portable voice recorder for some reason, and the three of us sang “Happy Birthday” in a canon just for Nicholas. Then we made the machine speed up so we sounded like chipmonks.

We got lost in the suburbs for what must have been several hours. We didn’t actually reach Nick’s until 11 or so at night and the party was dying down. We burst in quite drunk and before long we were drinking more still and screaming. Fast forward a few blurry hours and I was calling a taxi as Grace was sitting upside down on a couch and speaking in a language none of us could understand.

In unrelated news I would like to share this golden quote from my cousin Mike:

Michael« : There were 5 of us. I end up sleeping with the two girls in the single. It made waking up and relising my car was fuked a little easier..

He had an interesting weekend too.

Knocked up, NC, sleeping, waking, stuff

I was an hour late to work today. I had a bad night and in my morning exhaustion slept through the alarm. I ended up waking up at the time I was supposed to be sitting at my desk.

I have what sounds like whooping cough, however it’s just an asthma cough and I always get it after viruses. Body goes all hypersensitive. I’m all fidgety and pick at stuff on my face. Yum yum.

A friend of mine reckons she wakes up multiple times a night. Every night. Personally I sleep the whole night, always. I just don’t wake up.

So at 4 this morning when suddenly my eyes were wide open, I was sitting bolt upright and pumped with adrenalin, in the dark, it was so out of the ordinary I felt as though something had gone very wrong.

I stole out into the house and checked everything out. Everything seemed okay. I crawled back into bed and went back to sleep. But a short while later I was once again sitting up in bed, and very, very awake.

Walked around the house again. Everything was still. I went back to sleep and slept till 9am when I woke up and swore loudly and creatively.

Every winter it’s the same. The sickness comes, along with the short days, long cold nights and the consequent “fuck everything” cycle. The cool thing is I know the halfway point has been past and winter gives way to spring and possibility, then to summer and terrible, terrible awesomeness.

I watched knocked up this evening. I thought it was going to be horrible. I was utterly mistaken. The film is surprisingly good. With sincere, likable performances and a killer script the movie wins. The chemistry between Rogan and Rudd was awesome.

I’m going to New Caledonia in the Spring.

Winter

Ciao

It’s been quite awhile. How are you all?

I haven’t been doing much of anything in recent months. Since the winter and its
long, cold nights have descended upon this part of the world my days and weeks
have been bound and structured by the ever present scourge of full-time
employment.

This time last year I was at Splendour with my kid sister. This year I’m sitting
my trackies, sniffling and coughing up stuff. Yeah I’m sick for the first time
in a long time. I blame going out last weekend.

The vegan diet ensures I never have these things for long, however right now
life is sucking just a little bit.

Last weekend however was pretty good. We went out in west end, ended up at a
burlesque party at the Melbourne hotel. We arrived and I got hit on by a gay
fellow, then we watched a beautiful woman on a stage remove her clothes. Cool.
The night wore on and we danced up a storm. The music got better and better.

I felt the evening peaked as a dance track we liked came on and Mike and I lept
onto the little stage and proceeded to dance like it was 1804. Somehow my legs
just knew what to do and we battled it out with the melbourne shuffle. After
tearing things up for a good while, I needed to hop down and have a chill. Mike
Jones continued up there by himself, busting out moves, wearing this hat he
found somewhere. The kid is gnarly as hell.

Anyway I don’t care too much that I’m now sick as that night was a definite top
three. Next weekend is something else. I forget. I have to look up my phone. Or
my diary. Or Outlook at work. Or a random piece of paper. Modern technology
annoys me in that I have to check in five different places for my schedule or
for messages received from friends. I need to delete my facebook. It’s
depressing. No twitter either, for this little black duck.

That asside.

I’ve been playing my acoustic ever day still. Sometimes people compliment me on
my playing now. Improvement rules. I can bust out a fairly convincing cover of
Disarm, and I’m currently working on my C-F chord change so I can play Mr Jones.
Soon I want to start playing some more folky tunes, might have to look into
different tuning, etc.

I’ve been taking a couple of photos here and there. I’ve improved a little but
have a fair way to go. I’ve ordered a tripod and a 50mm prime lens which should
help my low light photos a lot.

I feel as though I am a far cry from how great I felt over summer when I wasn’t
working, but instead surfing every second day, running, sleeping in the sun,
etc. Work ruins me. I’ve started running again because I was becomming unfit,
but it’s less enjoyable when you have to run around an oval in the dark, while
it’s five degrees. I want to do the 10km bridge to brisbane run at the end of
August. I currently run 5.5km. Gotta really bust it out this month.

That’s it from me now. I’m going to blog more though. Stay tuned.

Update coming

Various things have reminded me of the urgency of living, thus I’ve delved back into reading, running, taking photos.

I want to go here: www.dirkhartogisland.com

Be good to each other.

Fever

bwahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahabatmanhahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahafeverhahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahakillme

I busted some cartlidge in my chest while boarding again the other day. That’s shitted me off because I can’t go bodyboarding, and my vet friend has recommended I also refrain from running for a few weeks to allow the cartlidge to heal. Something about if I keep breaking it in the same place it’ll weaken it.

So here I sit, in my flanny, wondering wtf to do next.

I’m going for a run in the morning. It’s been one and a half weeks. She’ll be right.

Nothing else interesting to report. Apart from the fact we had a party on the weekend then went ice skating the next day.

No interesting thoughts or stories or embellishments. Work has dulled this feller.

Stay tuned though I guess.

More reflection

From rainy Monday:

Faithless is the shit. I’m home alone in the pink shack. Woke up late this morning to find the outside world raining softly. I went sik on the guitar till my fingers gave in, now I’m finding another way to amuse myself.

Firstly a whinge:
So the job is turning out to be harder than training led me to believe it would be. I guess I wanted something where I could rock up, do my duty, let my mind wonder, and not really care.

This job however seems to demand one hundred percent concentration over the entire eight hours. I can do it. It’s just a bit more challenging that Telstra was. So much knowlege required.

On the topic of knowledge, the other night I realised I’ve become this walking dispensary of practical advice on a broad range of topics. I’ve dabbled in a variety of interests and earned a crust in several fields in my short life. And consequently friends call me asking advice on IT, car buying, car fixing, vegan eating, fitness, accounting, law, and now, insurance as well.

I’ve always spread myself too thin. This slew of practical knowledge regarding every which thing is all well and good, it’s frequently beneficial, but is it really *necessary*. What if I’d invested that energy and intellectual capacity, focussed it on a smaller area.
Maybe I could have maybe achieved something.

But I mention “capacity”. Is it even finite?

Not really. One should technically be able to fit in as much as one can absorb during the limited hours in the day.

If I didn’t sleep could I know twice as much?

I don’t have regrets about how I’ve invested my time. I don’t have a killer career or a university degree. But I like having a fairly broad knowlege of different aspects of the modern world. Knowlege is power. It’s easier to get what you need when you know how the system works.

Highway Ephiphanies

I was up the coast for a few days for Easter, then did a late Sunday night run home to beat the traffic. Cruise set to 120, seat back, rain softly hitting the windscreen, thundering across the  dark open plain stretching before me, I did some thinking.

Nothing lasts forever. All we have are the moments.

So many, myself included, spend their lives railing against the hand we’re dealt when things don’t go our way. When we’re single we pine for love, closeness and certainty. When in a long relationship we crave time alone, adventure and thrills. As one of the majority who’s been from one extreme to the other, and has now run the full circle, I kind of wonder what to chase next.

The usual of course is to recommence the circle. However I question that. I used to say that circle was life. That was it. You crush, you chase, you get a little thrill, then usually get hurt. Sometimes it goes further and there’s love. Then it ends and you’re back to the beginning. Whenever a friend sobbed to me in the aftermath of it all falling apart, I would rehash the same pep talk. It’s all part of the tapestry baby. This is your life, that’s all there is. Take it all in.

And while to an extent, I think I was kind of right, last night, thundering down a lonely Bruce Highway, I suddenly reached a totally new way of looking at it all.

It’s been coming awhile. But it didn’t hit home till I really thought about it. Nothing lasts forever. All we have are the moments. One needs to cease the concern over the future because it doesn’t exist. Neither does the past. The present exists, we’re in it now. Cherish it. See, now that moment’s gone. Lost forever and it’s all you had at that moment. But you did have it there. Did you appreciate it?

It’s easy to fall into the trap of defining oneself by the have-not’s. What about what you have? It’s cliched, but I never properly thought about it till recently.

“Ride the wave.” I said to my friend that the other night. I only realised the significance after it was said. Life is about the now, and to a large extent going with the flow. Not so much accepting shitty situations, but picking which fights to fight, and by riding the wave during the easier, better times, by not continually dwelling on the have-nots, saving one’s energy for the fights that really count.

And that brings me to the next epiphany. It seems to me that we need to ride the wave not just as individuals, but also as a collective.

To me, nature is perfection. Chaos and the progression of time have produced a system so incredibly powerful, uncompromising and complex, I believe our fundamental error as a species and as members of this system has been to think we can successfully adapt it to suit ourselves, rather than adapt to it, as has each and every other one of the trillions of species we share the planet with. Concrete. Walls. Dams. Each stupid little barrier is nothing compared to the force of perfection which is nature. Her energy and patience is infinite and she will slowly but surely crush each and every arrogant, pitiful, bullshit attempt isolating ourselves from it. Attempting to convince ourselves we’re special and somehow different from all the other animals is the grossest waste of energy.

This realisation will be key to our ultimate survival as a species. That nature can never be imitated. Man seems to think he will be best off in an artificial, built environment. But that’s not the case. We’re still part of nature, as much as we try and convince ourselves otherwise through our man made shit.

“Humanity’s first notions of power came from primitive encounters with nature – the flash of lightning in the sky, a sudden flood, the speed and ferocity of a wild animal. These forces required no thinking or planning – they awed us by their sudden appearance, their gracefulness and their power over life and death. And this remains the power we have always wanted to imitate.”
- Robert Greene

We never will come close to imitating it. Better then that we learn to live in harmony with the system which sustains us, instead of cutting it, burning it, and generally pissing it off.

The global warming thing scares me, not so much because of the extent of the challenges we face, but the extent to which, as a collective, we seem to have already given in. Everyone pays lip service, but get people on their own after a few drinks and they confess they feel it’s all futile. We’re fucked. We’re on a burning express train to the apocalypse. Exponential population growth, catastrophic global warming and ultimately the nuclear war it will spark might wipe us out. Everyone’s already accepted it. Wtf mate?

The cynic in me says the third world’s already stuffed because they won’t stop friggin’ breeding. Educating small groups of the destitute on safe sex and giving them condoms just seems so laughably insignificant when you consider the billions of people inhabiting these countries, and the fact that due to their incredibly tough lives, they have no real context which which to understand how their snap decisions have flow on effects to their entire lives and the lives of others. There’s got to be some other way to help them.

Anyway me being the idealistic sceptic I am, I believe doom is quite avoidable. Scientists tell us exactly what we need to do to avoid this. Why aren’t we doing it? We as westerners have the power and the knowledge to fix everything. What a crime if we failed to make use of these things and let it all fall apart.

I love that even at this eleventh hour, Tories still get flustered over practical suggestions like carbon taxing, shrieking that it will “increase the cost of energy”.

Um. Yes, it will. That’s the purpose guys.

Peter Garrett will also stop you mowing your lawn.

Anyway back to the man vs nature thing, you know what I admire most about nature, and animals in particular? They don’t give in like humans do. You don’t see animals deciding it’s all too hard and having a cry. They get on with existing. If faced with an obstacle they either overcome it, or die trying.

Humanity better not wuss out of the challenges we face as a race. I’m ready to do my bit. I’ll pay more for my energy, I’ll stop doing burnouts. I’m prepared to give up whatever material shit I have to to ensure the planet stays a nice place for me to exist. Because at the end of the day, it’s the simple things which make me happy. Doesn’t matter how shit artificial stuff like work gets. If we can swim in the clean ocean, walk through a forest and suck in clean air, everything’s okay. That’s all I really want. Sleep now.

Last storm of summer [Introspective rambling follows]

Ten at night and I’m out in the yard pulling washing off the line as a thunderstorm looms. Drunk student types run around noisily out in the streets of Taringa. I’m lost in thought, meandering through my past, present, my future as lightning goes off overhead and rain starts to spit. I reflect that this far into the year, April, this is perhaps the last gasp of the season. Which of course leads to more widespread reflection of the summer that was.
And I distinctly hear my younger self, cheering from 2004.
I like the fact that I talked the talk and subsequently walked the walk. I don’t think it was generally expected that I’d come through. My plan of shaking it all up, relocating, resettling, gaining more suitable employment. It’s proceeding exactly as it should. The big life restructure. Bloody tiring, but the only way I know to be true to oneself and lead your life the way that, deep down,  you want to. No compromises. The only way to delete all the clutter so you can focus and work out wtf you’re all about and what you want to do. I’ve spent the last five years trying in vain. Only when I so drastically changed stuff did the logical answers reveal themselves. It’s so refreshing, just knowing.
The other benefit of course was the enjoyment of just letting so much crap go. I let loose with the fun random Dirk that got lost for so long. Armed with his body board, falcon and tent, he traced a path of laughter and mayhem across South East Queensland. Various pictures spring to mind and I smile:

• Lying sprawled by myself out on a beach south of Byron, staring up at the clear night sky, cool sand in my   hair, while two sets of bongo’s are echoing call and response. One from down near the breaking waves, one from high atop the dunes.
• Walking down the same beach and a huge black man running at me, madly playing bongo’s, me diving out the way, and him obliviously barreling onward down the beach, with his frenzied running and playing.
• Lying on a different beach, Rainbow, a few nights before new years, with my brothers, seeing a ufo and laughing hysterically.
• Me and Mike down on the beach one night. Seeing some lights in the distance. Deciding to walk towards the lights and the adventure which ensued.
• Nevereverland. The Presets.The Green Laser Show. Fwoah.
• Bodyboarding every second day.
• Learning guitar.
• The rain storm that hit while me and Toine were camping, us sitting by the fire under a well installed tarp, eating hashbrowns and drinking tea while we watched the entire beach get chased way. Subsequently looting in their wake.
• Drunk hookups with pretty girls in the ocean at night, water sparkling with plankton.

I stuffed up a few things as well. I handled a few things poorly. I learnt from them. I’ve continued to work stuff out on my own terms. One day I’ll have all the answers. When I’ve made all the mistakes.
Much remains to be done. Aside from the full and complete execution of the plan there are some assorted other things I’d like to accomplish this year. Listed as follows:

• Become decent at body boarding.
  I know you don’t have to be good at something to love it, but given the fact that I gush about it all the time, I think it’s only reasonable I be able to efficiently deal with nasty shorebreaks and not get wiped out as much as I do. Certainly a work in progress..
• Become decent at guitar.
  I can play songs now, go cleanly between most of the chords. I make up folky riffs and strum till my fingers can’t take it anymore. And everything feels better.
• Pinch some milk crates.
  A rite of passage.
• Improve at photography.
  My goal is to make like a portfolio of Brisbane photos. Of the places I go and the people I hang with. It’s much harder than I thought it would be.
• Read more.
  While I wasn’t working I made some excellent inroads in this area, demolishing some awesome books and reveling in the new, interesting perspectives that I arrived at with each one. Since starting full time work and the associated intensive training I haven’t been able to bring myself to read in the evenings. That should change once I get up to speed proper and work is not such a big issue on my radar.

Speaking of work, for those who care, I am now an Insurance Services Officer in the inbound travel claims enquiries section of a major international insurer. It’s turned out to be better than I expected, with regards to conditions and the interestingness of the work. Travel insurance is cool because you hear about people’s misadventures all over the world. Sucks when you have to tell them they’re not covered for the trip home to their grandma’s funeral because her medical condition was pre existing. I deliver the blow with a sweet voice and my superiors like me.
Once a month the entire company gets together on a massive open air deck on the top story, with sweeping 180 degree views of the Brisbane skyline, and drinks Boags until it runs out. There’s something awesome about drinking free, good quality beer on work time. These guys know how to do it.
My favourite aspect of all remains the fact that it’s situated a pleasant fifteen minute walk from my house. Not commuting on trains and roads makes my day so much shorter, cheaper, healthier, and generally more pleasant.
I’ve spent the last few months learning new things. The brain’s constantly awash with new and interesting knowledge. Practical skills like guitar, boarding or surviving in the city, photography skills, as well as mental such as slabs of knowledge for work. My brain’s in constant learning mode, absorbing new information like a sponge. I like it. I don’t want to stop learning. I like knowing.
So the summer party’s kind of over. For now. The head is down, I’m charging toward the goal. Like the Ox. After all it is the year thereof. IM NOT INTO THAT HOCUS POCUS MATE, but it’s my reminder to myself of what this year should be about.
Heh. I’m attempting introspection and just blaring some kind of quasi motivational monologue. I have friends who reflect on the world and their philosophical struggles and so easily paint their intelligent thoughts into eloquent paragraphs. Meanwhile I rail against tangible annoyances such as parking inspectors, possums digging up my parsley, and the fact that the footpath outside my window gets whippersnipped and leafblown every second friggin day.
I think that may be it from me for now anyway, dear readers. I’ll try to keep up the writing so I don’t disappear into a haze of insurance doublespeak. Meanwhile the uni and career goal sits in the background, awaiting the appropriate time. I’m so keen.

Footy, Wipeout

Mum and Dad came down for the weekend and stayed in a hotel in the city. On Saturday we went to the Gabba to see the Lions play their opening match of the season.

I’m not mad about footy. But Dad quite likes it, and I used to watch it with him as a kid. Back when the Lions used to win everything. Since then things have changed. I’ve grown from a little smartarse into a big smartarse, and the Lions have deteriorated from a once near un-beatable team, to the fairly mediocre standard which saw them finish last season pondering not even making the top eight.

And so I found myself at the Gabba, on the cool Saturday evening, nice and close to the field with a view across the stadium. Watching them getting beaten up in their home ground by the West Coast Eagles.

It was just ridiculous man, the Eagles came out hard and fast and left the Lions running around aimlessly, game plan out the window, along with all hints of confidence. At one point three of the guys went to mark the same ball, crashed into each other and fell into a heap. Meanwhile an Eagle plucked it out of the air and sent it up the field and they scored another.

A couple of times in the past the Lions have staged momentous comebacks. But this time it was a big ask, even for them. Furthermore, they are for the first time without their legendary coach Leigh Matthews and many of the star players that comprised the unbeatable Lions machine that won three straight premierships. It was ex-captain Michael Voss’s first time coaching the side and it was beginning to look pretty embarrassing for him.

So anyway, the siren sounded to signal the end of the first quarter. Score something stupid like 12-50 and the crowd was spewing. A few people walked out.

Vossy cruised onto the field brandishing a whiteboard and the team gathered around sullenly. He spent the next five minutes scrawling madly upon it, and gesticulating wildly. The break ended and Voss left the field. Play recommenced with the ball-up, and suddenly, everything changed.

I don’t know what Michael Voss said to the team in that five minutes, but for the next two hours the  crowd of Lions fans was treated to a most almighty resurgence. Cheering every mark. Roaring at every tackle. The Lions kicked about five unanswered goals and equalised. Insane. In the fourth quarter they streaked ahead by a couple of goals and held the margin right to the end. The buzz in the stadium was awesome.

So I’m not a huge footy fan. But watching that courageous victory I really enjoyed. I loved chanting and taunting the Eagles supporters in front of us as the game slipped from their grasp. I especially enjoyed when Jonathan Brown hammered some little Eagles player about 20m from where we were sitting. We were on our feet, fists in the air. I have to admit there’s something pretty cool about watching fast, violent ball games in a stadium. I never really got it when I watched it on TV. Now I understand.

I don’t understand the old guys who take it really serious. You know the ones who yell advice to the players. “RUN IT MGRATH!” “LIONS I WANNA SEE YOU WINNING THOSE CONTESTS AYE!”
Shut up mate, you’re an insurance salesman, not the friggin’ coach. Noone cares about your half baked bullshit advice. Get off your soap box and stop embarrassing your wife.

Sunday me and Mike went bodyboarding. It was my second time out after I had a month out of the water as a result of me injuring my chest. It proved to be quite an intense afternoon. A strong south easterly wind whipped up after lunch and sent big dumping waves into the open beach we were stupidly attempting to surf.

I now have a new record for my worst wipe out ever. I got out past the main break and saw a big one coming. It wasn’t too steep and didn’t look that nasty. I started to paddle. Suddenly it was 80 degrees steep and I was teetering on the top, like two metres up in the air. I could either attempt to abort and probably go down backwards and get smashed. Or I could attempt to catch it and shoot out the bottom.

I went for the latter. I sent the board flying down the front, but I got too much air and lost it when I hit the water and the whole show exploded on top of me. My face hit the sand numerous times, and I surfaced about fifty metres down the beach.

I trudged out of the water, seeing stars and sat on the beach quietly for the next ten minutes or so. Realising I’m not really that great at bodyboarding.

Not that you have to be good at something to love it.

I mean I’m alright. I’m certainly a lot less fit due to the afore-mentioned injury. But I shouldn’t have gotten that injury either. It was due to stupid technique. I really need to refine stuff like that. And possibly surf on a better beach than the spit. I think I might have a crack at Burleigh Heads this weekend. I’m sick of negotiating dumpers and crashing through white foam. It’s fun for awhile but there’s no finesse, and it’s pretty dangerous.