A look back at love, history and where I am now
Hi everyone,
This entry may come as a surprise to you. My sudden disappearance from LJ not withstanding, there has been much change in my life of late, so I thought for at least the few that read this I may entertain you with some tidbits of a young man's life. This entry may also be one of the more important ones I write, and I ask that you all take some time to read and reflect on some of the more serious notes contained herein.
There's a couple of things I'd like to cover here, and this will probably get a tad lengthy; primarily an update on where I am in life, as well as my experiences over the recent Valentines Day. And boy have things been hectic.
Alas excuses are but the echoes of a man who rather than organising himself blames the idiocies and simpletons of life around him for not providing him with time to write and reflect. And so here I find myself, 10pm on a Monday night, sipping from a white teacup, resolutely watching my twin brother playing a computer game, and idly thinking about whether the raindrops pattering outside my window are cold.
I think that last note is either a sign I'm going mad or that I should peruse into the abyss so many have described as my internal dialogue.
Where I last left you in a virtual space, squeeing my lungs out at the success of a new job, is in fact now quite old news. I've finalised a move interstate back with family and the old way of living. I'm back in my old room once again sharing with my 22 year old male twin. The advantages here are numerous: it's positively wonderful to see family again in addition to free accommodation and meals. The downsides include a 2-hour trip into work, and then back out again. This means I wake up at 6am and end up coming home around 8.30pm. I know many other people have it worse, but I can tell you the travel does wear you down.
Oh, and my microphone headset suffered a stroke so I'm on the lookout for a replacement until a friend can re-solder it back to life.I've also just experience a week suffering from a severe cold and flu/fever/bouts of coughing, so am still in a bit of a haze.
But back to real life - the price for travel (and in no monetary sense either) is made up by the fact I'm in a fantastic team and working in the profession I've always dreamed of. Never mind the fact I still have a semester of university to complete, or that I still have to drive for 100 hours to be eligible for my driver's license test. All those seemingly trivial pursuits become irrelevant when I pick up the morning regular cappuccino, head up to level 3, step out into the wall-to-wall glass reflection, ruffle my bed-hair into an sensible mess and walk into the newsroom to make history.
What's really amazing about my 3-month contract is that I'm working with people who've been in the journalism sector and can provide me with some great support and stepping stones. Every day I see myself improving, even in the smallest increments. Take today for example - I was following up one particular story, and had written it quite well (thanks to 2-weeks of guidance from my peers). My exec producer congratulated me from getting great comment and the fact I had pushed and nudged at the story to achieve the results I had produced. It may even go to air tomorrow night.
On a similar topic, Australia experienced a huge milestone in indigenous history last week (N.B. that my job focuses on reporting on news that directly involves or affects Australia's Indigenous population, the Aboriginal people) and this is one of the important issues I wanted to raise. Our newly elected Government apologised for the Stolen Generations. For those not aware of Australian history, I will provide a brief explanation. Before I begin however, I would like to acknowledge my ancestral roots, the Worimi tribe from Port Stephens. Although I have not experienced a traditional upbringing in the Aboriginal way and can consider myself more white than black, I still feel the pull of culture and the respect for land and tradition by my elders and relatives generations ago.
In the not too recent past, Aboriginal people have and still suffer from lack of opportunity to universal education, health and employment opportunities due to a period we define as “the Stolen Generations”. Consider that the life expectancy for Aboriginal people is currently 1/3 of that of non-Aboriginal people, that there are still high rates of child, alcohol and substance abuse in remote Aboriginal communities, and then place those conditions against that of other nation's Indigenous peoples. It is truly and honestly shocking.
I've had many friends and colleagues debate and argue against me, often muttering how disgusted they are that Indigenous people have it easy - they can get so many welfare payments, scholarships and 'easy paths” to get ahead in life. Then when they see the ratio of Indigenous to non-Indigenous people and realise the systematic failure of previous governments which led to our current state, they begin to slowly understand what we are dealing with today.
Alcohol was introduced through the European invasion (hardly a settlement) and became a poison, leading to the high rates of child abuse we see in our communities. Often those who have been abused consider the treatment as normal and go on to live a similar life and possibly abuse their children. And it hurts me ot hear of stories today when my country is in such a diplomatic and advanced state that it could implement itself to help stem the spread of such social decay. And so the Northern Territory Intervention (or Invasion) was born by our previous government, which ultimately became the Stone Generation all over again.
But to explain the Stolen Generation we must look back to when governments removed Aboriginal children from their families and placed them in missions, believing they were doing the right thing by “culturing” and “assimilating” the children into a “proper white society”. Put simply, it was racism in it's purest form and would rock the very foundations of Australia's history for years to come. Today many generations down the line have been directly and indirectly affected by the removals. And it still hurts to think about it.
To quote “Many Voices: Reflections on stories of Indigenous Child Separation” edited by Doreen Mellor and Anna Haebich, In exploring histories of separation, it is essential not to lose sight of the individual experiences that underlie the intricate associations contained within this very human set of consequences. Coming to grips with the consequences of separation must encompass all those layers of relationship and action, both shining and shameful. We believe that most of us, as members of a broadly based Australian community, would wish to find a way to heal the sadness, abuse and deprivation that children undoubtedly suffered as a result of the policies that led to their separation, and have subsequently led to generations of grief, hurt and bewilderment. To do this we must always reflect on our past so that we learn to not to repeat the mistakes of our history.
But our new Government has issued a national apology to the Stolen Generations as of last week, an electrifying speech acknowledging the injustices of precious governments and putting words into action to help improve on many areas of Indigenous equality. The truth of the matter is the hurt and pain will continue on down the line, but at least the Government is working together towards viable solutions to improve the quality of life for Indigenous people, and to close the gap between Indigenous and non-Indigenous life expectancy.
Often I wonder how different I would be if I had grown up in a less white community and more an Aboriginal tribe. But such is a history and future I can never touch, as sad as it may seem. I will never know my native language. I will never hunt the kangaroo, turtle, or emu as did my ancestors. In a way my trek into the journalism field is to educate myself on the history but to report on the present and future directions of Indigenous issues: perhaps in doing so I can help initiate positive cultural and social change through the powerful medium of television.
Well if you've made it this far, thanks for sticking with me, I sure appreciate it. Looking back on Valentines Day, I wanted to make a few observations about my experiences, as mundane as they may initially seem.
I didn't have much time to reflect on my love life (or lack of) nor my experiences with love. The day flew by for me, but an interesting article I read attributed the occassion to increased rates of depression, as Valentines Day reminded people that they were in love or out of luck, the later apparently more prevalent in mainstream society. But then I turned to the much happier sides, and this goes out to all those that know me as a relative, friend, Hufflepuff and general crazy Australian.
Thinking back on my brushes with love, I remember well in my early years of finding 'the right girl for me'. It's always been a search and maturing road, where we learn love isn't just kisses and huges and romps in the blankets. It's much deeper and far more emotionally connecting than many let on.
If like me you're single and looking for love, even the small falls seem like endless gaping voids and the small achievements like you've grown wings and could produce a patronus that very instant. I've seen and felt my fair share, from familial love to girlfriend/mushy stuff. I'm not one to dwell too much on the sadness, but I know what it's like to lose someone you're close to. This year I chose to focus on the happy loves though, even the ones that haven't happened or I'd wished could happen.
I've shared beds and butterbeers and conversations and cocktails with many fine women (beds in the sense that we were friends and nothing happened). Isn't it exciting to feel that first tug, that “what if there's something more, but should I say something or do something?”. I remember fondly the nervous tingling butterflies in the stomach about how to ask her, or whether it's the right time and when (if I should) say something.
A great memory I have was returning back from my visit to New Orleans and talking to my work colleagues about my trip. One of them in particular grinned at me, pulled me aside and whispered “You fell in love, didn't you?” to which I sheepishly replied “Yeah.. I guess I sorta did”.
When I fall in love (and not the superficial type either) I hit the ground hard and start running a million miles an hour. Suddenly the friendship I have with “her” takes on a whole new meaning, and simple things like how many sugars she likes in her coffee or what color dress she wore last Friday become some of my more immediate short-term memories. I know I'm in love when every waking moment I see or hear something that generations a thought or memory involving her, leading to the biggest grin on my face and the warmest glow to the pits of my stomach.
And I've been in love a number of times. And yes I'm young and yes I'm inexperienced. But rather than stay on the negative side and remember those sad times that we all share, I took a moment on the day to remember these feelings and how happy they make me.
You know you're in love when you repeat yourself numerous times without realising, which I now realise I have done. Ironic, no?
I know I'm in love when my palms become sweaty, my mouth runs dry, words fail me and I can hear the rapid beating of my heart wanting to burst out of it's cage. I remember a time last year when I felt the strongest pull towards a woman not only because of her immediate beauty but her inner character and willingness to give and continue giving for nothing in return.
And then I remember the exact moment when it hit me - the realisation. I can pinpoint the time, the date, even where we were standing, what she was wearing down to minute details to the amount of curls in her hair. And oh what a joyous moment that is. Like a rollercoaster it's thrilling and scary - you don't want to ride it for fear of falling off but at the same time the adrenaline rushes through and takes control over your emotions. It sweeps you right off your feet and leaves you breathless, barely able to stand or think coherently.It courses through your whole body and lifts your spirit up to its' peak.
And then later you begin to understand why but at the same time are so dazzled by the sudden sensation. Suddenly everything seems cliché, down to the pitiful excuses you think to initiate conversation. I certainly didn't know and still don't know a lot of things involving the “dating rituals”, so playing it by ear has sort of worked for me.
Can anyone else remember the moment when you look into their eyes and hold their gaze for just that extra split second, or when your hands brush by chance you feel a zap shoot down your spine? Who remembers noticing their eyelashes, their smile, their giggle and “thoughtful” face.
I sure do.
Oh gawd, look at me - I've become a hopeless romantic * sigh *.
But aside from my ramblings, that's the moment I choose to remember for Valentines Day. And although I don't have a girlfriend (I'm working on it, Mum and Dad!) I know love, both lost and found. And I'm happy to have at least once felt the need for bonding and finding that close friend who you can be yourself around.
Anyways its nearly midnight so I will leave you all with those happy thoughts. But know that I'm recovering well, am happy in a new job (though am missing my Canberrean friends hugely, especially Siobhan my fellow-HP crazy friend) and I miss all you LJ'ers terribly. Remember to love and be loved in return is the ultimate in life, and nothing comes close to it, so go out and hug someone close to you or show some thoughtful affection to the ones you love. And don't do it for any particular reason - spontaneous goodwill is always a precious and well-received gift.