Twas a splendid weekend just past. It began with a farewell party. Life often seems to be an extended farewell party during which you meet new acquaintances to farewell in the near future. Today’s farewells are rather artificial when compared to those of old. We may not see the person for a while but due to the ease of long distant communication we can keep maintain contact with them right up until the final farewell. However, it is not physical distance that makes these farewells permanent. The neglecting of contact and interaction with that person is what causes a friendship to drift. Over the passing of time you grow away from each other and towards others. I remember that when I was young I saw this in operation with my parents. They lost contact with many of their friends, even those living in Masterton. I was shocked at this, as at that stage in my life friends were pretty much my only concern. I vowed (well maybe just exclaimed strongly) that this would not be the case for me. Oh how wrong I was. Many of my close friends from past years seem to be no more than a standard issue friend or even an acquaintance. Tis sad but true. The only mend can be quality time, which so often can’t be found. At least now that I live back in the Wellington region I maybe able to refresh some of my old friendships.

Saturday brought another game of cricket. I have been blessed with much cricket this summer. I am so glad I managed to convince my parents of the virtue of subscribing to Sky so as to secure an opportunity to study the cricket of many nations. After the first innings it was time to visit another old school friend. He had returned back to NZ to exhibit his fine catch from western shore of Oz and to celebrate his 21st year. It was a quiet, relaxed affair with cheerios galore. It was rather good timing to have his celebration on the same day as the air show for he did love his planes.
After an hour or two there I raced home to prepare for my own party. Thankfully I was guaranteed to be at my birthday on time this year having not won any prizes relating to the Big Day Out. A BBQ was again on the cards. It is one of the simplest ways to feed a crowd when 5 loaves and 2 fish aren’t handy. Some keen souls arrived early to enjoy the sun before it set. Whilst I attempted to entertain them I also ran around finishing off any preparation left to go. Thankfully my father and roommate Joel were willing to man the BBQs and get the chicken on its way. Slowly people dripped in. I was unsure about the numbers of my party and had aimed highish. I had sent some invitations out, mainly to those further abroad, invited some in person, some by blog and some by word of mouth. As 6.30pm rolled by I was worried that my expectations were too great and that many seats would remain unfulfilled. But the stragglers finally arrived filling the remaining seating quite comfortably. This was my first birthday with babies. I sense that with time more and more babies will be attending such events. There is no longer any need for pass-the-parcel as most people are content with a hold of a baby….until it has had enough, expressed in tears. The food seemed to be well enjoyed by all. Even my desserts that some were reserved about, disappeared in no time. I hope to see fluffy jelly at other people’s shindigs in the future. After allowing the food to settle for a moment it was time for a Baird classic, Mr Ten. Unfortunately I was unable to fully participate, as I don’t think my knee can take much more abuse. I hopped around as a gesture of being apart of this great event. The enthusiasm of running around the house petered out after a few rounds. The brassier was lit and marshmallows were aroasting. Slowly the numbers began to dwindle, as one by one, group by group the home call was received. The hardy partiers remained to the mid of night before commencing their journey homeward. Thank you to all those who attended and for the gifts and cards I received. I was pleasantly surprised to receive more than alcohol for my birthday in contrast to previous years. Two books I received and in my new reading era they stand a chance of being read…even during the course of this current year.
The next day, of course, was my real birthday. It was a rather quiet day with little celebration. Another day, another day. Mafia and charades were played in the evening and during my first posting as detective I arranged for both mafia to be hung with few losses to the general population.

Monday (for it was a long weekend) brought with it the hope for a live game of cricket. The weather wasn’t so encouraging but once arriving in Wellington it was looking somewhat brighter. To the disappointment of my brothers non-water refreshments were banned so Richard and Carlos were sent back to the Van lugging their 10 odd bottles behind them. I was part of a larger group and considering that my knee might slow the party down, I left earlier for the walk to the stadium (I was more-or-less paranoid of missing the first ball). I had no idea where I was going so I just followed those ahead of me until we merged into a large crowd. Upon reaching the stadium our bags were ‘checked’. Essentially we were asked if we were carrying any banned items. The answer was easy, “no” (and I actually wasn’t). I arrived to my seat with plenty of time. Most of the party arrived before the first ball but some arrived after a couple of overs. I thought we were in an excellent position for catching a six, but the four sixes that were hit our way went down the same tunnel. However, this did allow for me to be spotted on TV. Nice. We were treated to a full game though I knew that we hadn’t posted a high enough total to guarantee the victory. It came closish to the wire but with some loose bowling at the end the World XI comfortably achieved victory. At least today’s game will now be the decider for the series. The loss didn’t greatly affect my spirits, as it still was a pretty good game to watch.
And such was my weekend, how was yours?

My current state of affairs

Putting Off The Old Man

Over the past couple of weeks I have been slowly putting off the old man. I am probably not using this term in the same way as Paul used it all those years ago but I do believe it is a fitting description of some of the activities that I have been up to recently. It all began at camp with an urge for change. I needed to freshen up and so it began. First I removed the central line of patchiness. This area has been an innate weakness for me. No matter how I wished to be complete, the patchiness remained. Next to go was a small piece that really was kept for fun. A part of life to keep me entertained. Then there was what just kept getting in my mouth. I tried to keep my mouth clean but this wouldn't allow it. The foundations that I had left were the last to go. These had always been my favourites but others recommended that I have another look and build upon a flatter foundation. That was enough change for camp. I felt the coolness of the wind of change. At home I had the final step complete. It has been part of my life for 2.5 years now. The volume was immense and it required more attention with time. But I needed help; for this was not something I could easily remedy myself. Thankfully my mother helped me shed that which could easily entangle. Now I appear many years younger. The new man is hair but for how long?

To all those few readers of me blog:

I invite you to a evening of mild festivities in celebration of my 22nd birthday on the 22nd of Jan, this very Saturday. Kick off be at 6.30 pm with a BBQ at my Masterton residence. Feel free to bring exotic liquid refreshments. Lodging can be arranged if required.

As you may well know, I am a hoarder, a collector of many sentimental items. These items usually can be found in shoeboxes. I am not one who throws things out lightly. Hence I have pretty much kept every letter or email I have ever received. Granted, some disappointing letters have been burnt and some emails lost into the wasteland of lost data, but I suspect I am still able to access 90 % of received correspondence. Earliest records seem to be found belonging to 1995. Since these early days I have always been a bit of a writer. Spoken word has never come as easily to me as the well constructed stories in my letters. I may struggle with words face to face, but with a pen in hand my heart speaks.

Having just completed a sorting exercise in my room I had a chance to re-read many of my forgotten letters. Most harken back to my Homeleigh days but some belong from my Ponatahi era. You don’t know how much you have aged or how much you have matured until you read what you wrote 8 years ago. I hope nobody still has copies of my letters stashed away. If you do, I apologise for some of the more shameful things I have said in times gone by. I wonder whether in another ten years from now I will likewise be embarrassed of what I write these days.

I often remember those days as happy times with little worries occupying my mind. Yet that is a result of carefully suppressing or blotting out of all the fears and worries that kept my pen flowing. Some problems or worries still remain to this day. I am still worried about what people think of me. I still second guess other peoples opinions, try to interpret their actions and generally seek security. This was a major topic for everyone I corresponded with. Every letter contains at least one reference to someone disliking someone or someone being a bitch or someone being an annoyance or people asking why someone doesn’t like them etc. Everyone feared and experienced rejection.

I count 10 former correspondees, nine female and one male. Of this 10, I only really interact significantly with one. All the other friendships have pretty died or been demoted to acquaintances. As I reflect upon all those I have corresponded with very few examples break this trend. Most people whom I have heavily communicated with at some stage, no longer feature in my life. Some event or words brought the letter writing to an end and invariably the friendship with it. Hmm. What to do with that observation? Maybe I will have to be weary when entering into correspondence in the future. Hmm. However, I suspect this cycle of history will repeat until a new exit is found to a brighter future.

Ah the pain. Who would have thought that such a little piece of dense fibrous connective tissue could cause so much pain! Last night I decided to be the kind older brother and give young Richard some batting and bowling practice down at the nets. I remembered to take my run up quietly having previously suffered from knee sliding. Bowling was fine and dandy. Didn’t manage to get him out but that’s why Ross came along. So it was my turn to bat. Now I was going to pull out a few strokes and show some magnificent shots. All was going to plan for the first couple of whacks. Then Richard bowled a widish delivery. “This is going to go to the boundary,” well so I thought. But one wild swipe later I felt a very sharp pain in my left knee. I thought it might have just popped out again and just needed a hand to reset itself. I tried straightening it. Nope that didn’t help. How about bending it? Nope, but it sure increased the pain. Ah the stomach now wants to reveal its contents. Time to sit down. A little better. I encouraged Richard to pull onto it to somehow fix it. He was pulling but nothing was happening. I hobbled over to the car with Ross and we took off to my Uncle Warren our very own A&E nurse. He recommended picking up a good book before heading off to the hospital. Mum had arrived home so she took me to the A&E. I now know how to pilot a wheel chair and perform delicate maneuvers like a zero point turn. After waiting about an hour I was basically told that I had to just sit tight and wait for it to fix itself. But to help it on its way, lets straighten the knee to its most painful position and brace it so that it can’t move from this position. Thankfully I also had some drugs. Drugs are my friends. But still a morning later the pain persists. Hobbling is my mode of transport. Yay for holidays.

Camp and some musings

The new year is well into swing. I have just spent the past week down in the ‘sunny’ Nelson at the National Youth Camp. This was my seventh National Camp meaning that I was one of the few old faithfuls around. About 80-90 % of the campers were under 18. However that didn’t dampen the camp, just made it different. Camps have a totally different dynamic when you are older. No longer do you have a large group of friends to hang with. You either search for the few old friends left or try to break into the younger circles. Some find the breaching of the banks of youth to be easier than others. I try my best but don’t have that ‘factor’ which I see in others. So I do get on with some younger ones at least somewhat. Without this I don’t think I would continue coming to camps. I do like being there as an older example hoping to offer some encouragement to those struggling. Just being there encourages some. So maybe I have another up my sleeve, but a year is a long time so I shan’t yet commit to anything. I was even asked to prepare a devotion for the camp. This was planned to be presented four times to four different groups. It took me ages to decide on a topic. I ended up giving an encouragement and reminder to the youth to not only respect the older members but also to appreciate them and the wisdom they usually hold. I received numerous thanks for the presentation and some comments, so I guess it went wellish.

All in all I had a good camp. It was awkward and lonely at times but usually I was able to find some light to be drawn too. I guess I struggle not having a close mate there. I have plenty of friends but no one that I can always wonder around with and talk with. In fact I have had a vacancy in this position for many years now. Before I left for Dunedin Jason and I were pretty much inseparable. Every weekend was spent at each other’s house. We drank, we smoked and we talked about anything and everything. But after he left for Brazil a hole has remained. This hole was more recently filled by Seth, but now it is once again a gaping wound. I think that is what I miss the most in life. I have no one to roam with, no one to talk for hours with and that gets me down. Maybe I have some hope moving to Wellington because I certainly won’t find it in Masterton. When I have attempted to fill this hole with a member of the opposite sex it without fail has turned to shit. Maybe its because I become too intense or require too much time? I have no answers only questions. All I really want to do is to communicate with someone freely and rather than just hitting a brick wall I want to have some sort of response, to hear some of their stories, some of their struggles. Hmm. Patience I must have and do the best I can with what I have.

Other thoughts. Ciggies use to be my backup friend. If I needed someone but they could not be found, I always had a friend I could roll and spend time with. Sad it might be, but it worked. Now I have replaced my tobacco friend with music. Whenever I want to talk to someone and yet can’t or when I am struggling with something I turn to music, in particular Elliott Smith. I don’t know why, but listening seems to give a peace. It helps block my thought processes, bringing me to another land where I can dream. The stress, the worry, the frustration slowly is dispelled from my system or it is at least buried away. I remember resorting to music from my earliest camp. When I was lonely, when I was upset, I turned to music. Back then it was the Beatle’s “All You Need Is Love” with this past camp’s theme being Elliott Smith’s “Coloured Bars.” I have cut back on my ‘addiction’ to music since I have been home. It was getting rather bad. When I was worried about something I just wanted to ignore it, turn up the volume and float away. But that doesn’t solve anything or getting anything done. Maybe it’s a phase, maybe I will get over it.

This past camp I have been confronted by my spiritual immaturity. This shouldn’t really surprise me. I have never been able to consistently read the Bible let alone any other spiritual books. I had a period of good growth when I was getting involved with eschatology. I loved reading all the preterist writings for they were exciting, solved some puzzles and seem to clarify passages of the Bible. But with that view comes further problems and questions as well as the fear of judgment from the authorities. In the end I have ended up at a brick wall. I would like to think of it as a brick fence whereby I sit and declare my lack of understanding or firm conviction on so many issues. If someone says do you believe this or that, my usual answer is ‘I don’t know’ or the safer ‘Probably’. I have lost a sense of certainty. I believe this is partly due to unfinished business in the theological front and again a fear of rejection of the questioner. I can no longer tow the line. I even have edited my recital of the Apostles Creed. Maybe this new year will be fruitful. Maybe I will once again get my life/faith on track with God’s help.