time to get a move on

It has to be at least a year since I decided to take a hiatus from summarising my thoughts on AnCon '09, and I have to admit that it's probably a bit more than a hiatus by this stage. Think I really dropped that ball.

I find it slightly interesting, though, that I left off after writing about "getting a move on", and now I'm back to thinking about the same issues. I know it's time to "get a move on" and do something, but what? I'm not sure.

I've talked with a senior EU staffworker about spending a couple of years in training with the EU, and the main thing we worked out was that I had to think about whether I was ready for it. I'm not sure that I am. I've been in the EU and around Sydney Uni for about seven years now, and that's a long time by anyone's standard. I'm getting fairly jaded, and that's not the kind of thing you want to pass on to passionate first years. So maybe that wouldn't be the best move just yet.

So the other two options are work and post-grad study. I gotta say, I'm really liking the thought of post-grad study. Studying music honours is pretty sweet, and I'm really loving the writing experience. Post-grad study feels like an excuse to write more, and particularly to write more about music. They say that a good music critic can write about music in a way that makes you hear it in your head, and I'm not there yet, but I'd sure as heck like to be. If I stayed at Sydney I could have a great supervisor, and there may be other options nearby. But there are a few down sides to this path. To survive would either mean more time on Centrelink, getting a scholarship, or working part-time. Unattractive, unlikely, and unhinged respectively. Also, having a post-grad degree doesn't necessarily make you more employable. That said, God uses everything.

Or I could just get a job. I've definitely missed graduate intakes for next year, and I won't have the headspace to look for work until after mid-October when my thesis is due. I don't know, it's still an option, and could be a good one. I could start to live in the *cough* real world *cough* ...

And as if that isn't a stupid term anyway. What makes someone socially benign isn't what they do with their life but how much they give a damn about what's around them. You don't graduate to a life in the real world, you were born there. No, you graduate to a life where either:
a. you can afford to distract yourself from the real world, or
b. you know the real world (or at least a part of it) better.
I'll choose b any day. Whatever it is that ends up filling my time, I want to keep my head out of the clouds. I'll never forget how a friend's dad (a tradie) once criticised academics for being practically useless. I figure there's no point trying to improve humanity if humanity thinks you're not worth listening to. And that goes for anything I could end up doing: EU staffworking, post-grad study or full-time work. The way people recognise that you're worth their time is how much you give a damn about them, about what they do and about how they think. And of course, that means you have to think about them, what they do and what they think about. It doesn't come to you automatically when you can finally afford a bigger TV.
/rant

*ahem*

So I think... on reflection... all I really know that I want to do is to keep knowing how to fix stuff.

blake ii - piety

Here's the second poem I submitted. This one was a bit more of an after-thought, coming together from bits I didn't put in the other one. Still, I think it's alright.


Piety

"Dear God,
Please give me my daily bread,
And maybe just a little bit more for good measure.
Amen."

He stands up,
turns,
and leaves the church.

Clean clothes, full stomach,
A heart full,
A swing in his step.

Steps over a down man
sprawled on the ground.
His conscience indulges in guilt
but feet must keep walking,
so his back speaks his mind.

- Iain Hart

blake i - young and free

Hello world :o)

I submitted a couple of poems to a poetry prize earlier this year. One of the conditions of entry was that the poems be completely new and unpublished, even on a blog. So, now that I've made absolutely certain I didn't win anything, I've decided to post them. Here's the first poem.


Young and Free

I grew up out in a country town,
In Australia, young and free,
I rode my bike through paddocks brown,
Tracks cows had left for me.
My dad a preacher, man of God,
A shepherd of the farms,
My mum was shepherdess at home,
We kids grew in God's arms.

Dad died young. Then Mum got married.
Sis and I moved out.
I found my way to Sydney with
God's help and stayed devout.
A man just can't survive the bush
When books are his travail,
But God is God of everywhere—
right?
anyhow
Worked at my books as though for God,
Shined my light.

light all night,
never dark.
stark dreams, flashes of
everything i want
everything i...

Worked at my books as though for God,
Loved my church – my family.
God gave me comfort in their midst
And slowly made me holy.
I gave my all to...

In all I did,
Did I please You?
Was it You I sought to please?
Oh please
tell me my efforts won Your praise.

I prayed to God near endlessly,
Yet fed my soul with air,
I gave my all to greed
and lust And
languished in
my
guilt.
I sought to please my God
a bit
I sought to please the world
But no-one can be pleased when God
is more than word.

tread soft tread lightly
christian boy.
make not a peep,
whelp.
look at you!
your presence is a blight on our city of lights.
old men and old laws protect you, for now.
when they fall
you will fall
watch your back

So I take my place among my peers,
Hide my thoughts 'neath an unfurrowed brow,
I go and I mack on a burger and fries,
Flirt with the latest designer clothes,
Buy a new phone,
Ignore a friend,
while I pray to God behind unclosing eyes
unmoving mouth and
unempty hands.

i am, you are, we are ruined youth
our generation's curse is
endless potential
instant intellect
strenuous futility
constant misinformation
inherited depravity
shallow faith
mindless banality
and open eyes.
we watch
we hope
we wait
we die. Short days ago
We lived, we watched our parents strive,
A chain-gang breaking rocks and singing,
"We are the masters of our own destiny!"
now dead we lie, and dying
in their grave.

God save us.

I live my life in the city now,
Life contradictory:
I walk a dead man's walk, and yet
I live eternally.
God only knows
ahh...
God only knows how to survive
The temptation and the grief,
But that's just life for a Christian man
In Australia, young and free.

- Iain Hart

death

For those who missed it, or those who would like to read it, here's the brief talk I gave at the EU Science & SciSoc "Making Sense of Death" event on 11/8/10. To God be the glory... definitely would have screwed it up without Him.

My dad died when I was 14. He’d had complications after a kidney transplant, and had been in hospital for two months as his body slowly shut down. I don’t remember whether I was looking at the heart rate monitor, or directly at him, when he died. But I was there, and he wasn’t anymore.

I will never forget the way I shook uncontrollably for five minutes afterwards. Nor will I ever forget the emptiness of our house when we went home. I can’t quite remember the hymns from his funeral, but sometimes in church I wonder “Was this one we sang?” and I choke up. A friend told me at the time that when his dad died, he felt five years older overnight, and I get that. Your life changes irrevocably when someone close to you dies. You get a hole right through you, a hole in your life and your experience. You always miss them, and you are never the same.

Death sucks. There is nothing good about it. When somebody close to you dies, every part of you screams that this is not right. You can’t make sense of it at the time, and by-and-large the passage of time just helps you move it to the background again. And yet it’s the only thing we can know for certain that we will experience. I have had depression and anxiety ever since my dad died. Depression is an all-pervasive pessimism, but it can bring to light a stark realism that you can’t ignore: you will die.

I am a Christian. I am by no means a good Christian, but I am a Christian nonetheless. And I am a Christian largely because Jesus beat death. When he walked the earth, he told his disciples that after being killed he would be resurrected, and he was. But Jesus’ resurrection is congruent with something I noticed after my dad’s death: that God can bring good things out of even the worst things.

My mum would comfort my sister and I with two Bible verses: Romans 8:28, which says “we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose,” and Psalm 116:5, which says “Precious in the sight of the LORD is the death of his saints.” This last verse means that God watches over his people carefully, even in death, and that’s what I noticed. Dad had been an Anglican minister, but he lost his job a few years before his death. Because Dad wasn’t a minister anymore, we weren’t living in a rectory, and so we didn’t have to move when he suddenly died. You may call it a coincidence, but we were so thankful to God. Dad must have hated to leave us, but he left us in good hands.

God encouraged us through that time too. Dad’s funeral was at a large church building and it was still packed out - a witness to us of how many people’s lives had been blessed by Dad and his years of faithful service to God’s people. That kind of thing helps you see that though life will end in death, life doesn’t have to be futile. That’s why I can bear to talk to you about death, and why I’d encourage you to think about it once in a while. To think about the inevitability of death, about how you’re going to face it, and about what you’re going to do with your life in the meantime.

I am afraid of death. I think you’d be mad not to be. It’s not right, and it doesn’t make sense. But God can still bring good things out of it. Jesus beat death so He could give you life. His promise is that those who die following Him will be resurrected at the end of the world, and that they will live forever from that point on. Though I am scared of death, I am confident that God will bring me through it safely. Like Psalm 23 says, even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for God is with me.

study

So I sit down to start my last semester's worth of undergraduate study, pull out a book and start some research. First sentence of the relevant chapter sounds familiar - I seem to remember checking out this chapter when my supervisor showed me the book in class. Second sentence is familiar too. Halfway through the first paragraph I flick to the end of the chapter and realise that I'd actually read the whole chapter before.

I am so not in the zone.

i owned the road

I think I'm crazy.

Somehow or other, I seem to end up doing most of my moving after dark. I drove some things down to Mum's tonight, leaving at 10:30 for the 1.5hr drive each way. The drive was unhindered by traffic. Such a pleasant change.

Some thoughts:
- Driving is cathartic.
- Singing is cathartic.
- When driving late at night, it pays to have eclectic tastes in music. Metal is particularly useful when attempting to induce temporary insomnia. System of a Down on the way there, Queensryche on the way back, power all the way.
- Well-aimed headlights are awesome.

Winter in Sydney is an impotent excuse for a season. Bowral is cold enough to make winter exciting, with icy air in your lungs, near-frozen tap water and the glorious scent of a thousand wood heaters. Sydney is just cold enough to make you depressed because it's obviously not summer anymore.

I'm certain I'm crazy, but that's mostly due to things other than late night removalism. I do like the forced solitude of the small hours. When there's nobody awake to see you, there's no point wearing a mask. That's not to say I don't, just that it makes the fact of wearing it and your purpose in doing so become more obvious - you're scared of unknown people.

I currently have fewer computers in my room than I've had for the last 3.3 years. Perhaps that's related to why I wear a mask.

Man, that sounds so freaking emo. Maybe I'll write about that on my blog.

unwanted guest

Your brother is smeared on my wall.
Come back, little one, and see where your hunger leads.
We have some unfinished business.


I hear that you're free as a bird,
Romancing freedom in flight, fitful flitting through shadows.
We have some talking to do.


Your argument seems very clear.
Give you some food. Can't say you hide much there.
We are at odds at this point.


I think that's a sub-par excuse.
Leaving my door ajar doesn't mean I am to blame here.
We both know sucking blood's evil.


I killed all your cousins you know.
All of them came, they all saw, they were conquered.
We have a family vendetta.


I move like a ninja sometimes.
Your demise was surprisingly brief and satisfying.
You and your bro look alike.

-- Iain

bus tales: epilogue

Epilogue: Notes to the Road-using Public of Sydney and the World

1. Please learn how to merge.
I believe that 90% of traffic jams are caused by drivers being low on confidence, and that 95% of these traffic jams are caused by people lacking confidence as they merge. GOOD merging practice is to match your speed with the speed of cars in the lane you're merging into. That way neither of you will have to slow down more than 10km/h or so. BAD merging practice is to slow down and wait for an appropriately-sized gap in traffic. In Sydney, that's never going to happen. When you match your speed you can merge safely into a much smaller gap. When you slow down/stop, you hold up a row of traffic behind you and force some other nervous n00b to hold up another row of traffic as they let you in. In the end, traffic slows to a grind and roads become parking lots because you never learned how to merge properly. Get a grip, learn how big/small your car is, and stop slowing us down. The planet will thank you, and I won't want to bash your headlights in with a baseball bat.
I also believe the other 10% of traffic jams is caused by people slowing down to look at weird stuff. Please stop doing that too.

2. SUVs are of the devil.
I grew up in the country, where real 4WDs have a legitimate and valuable place on the roads. However, I have nothing but scorn for the imitation 4WDs that infest our city streets - the "Suburban Utility Vehicle" (you can say "it's supposed to be Sports Utility Vehicle" as much as you like, but that doesn't make it true). I don't really care what TodayTonight tells you - you're not safer in an SUV. Sure, there might be a little more metal protecting you from the outside world, but the ego trip that gives you is sure to attract the fury of every other motorist when it makes you drive like a tool. Driving an SUV does NOT give you a licence to cut in front of people. It does NOT give you a licence not to indicate. It does NOT give you a licence to drive like you deserve to be first in everything. It does NOT make you look cool, and it is NOT a fashionable lifestyle accessory. You're driving an overweight station wagon. You make it impossible for people in smaller cars to see safe distances ahead or around you. You generally act as though you removed your brain before you got in the driver's seat. You waste petrol. You are a menace to society. Grow up and get a social conscience.
If you drive a Ford Territory, this rebuke is directed doubly strongly at you. Particularly the part about how it does NOT make you look cool. Your SUV-driving counterparts may be driving Porsches or Mercedes or BMWs or even Toyotas (they started the SUV game), but you're driving a Ford. Seriously. If you want to waste petrol in a Ford, buy a Falcon. It's cheaper and it goes better... and, hey what now? It's SAFER. 5-star ANCAP rating. Methinks you made a bad choice.
If this rebuke offends someone I like, I'm really sorry, but I do think that in the majority of situations an SUV is an irresponsible car to be driving. Also, I have seen one or two well-driven SUVs, so I know their drivers aren't all bad... keep fighting the ego trip, good drivers.

3. Don't park in bus stops.
Bus drivers have a job to do, and you're making it hard for them. Sure, it might seem as though parking as close to the end of the bus stop won't be an inconvenience, but you've probably never had to pull a 12.5m heavy vehicle up parallel to the curb within easy stepping distance for old ladies. It's hard. I kid you not: every time I saw this I wished there was a legal provision under which I could either take out your car with my bus, or jump out of the seat and bash in your headlights with a baseball bat. And really, why on earth would you risk a $189 fine, or worse, a grumpy bus driver? Please don't park in bus stops. You're not helping anyone.

4. Look in your mirror before you open your door.
Giving a bus driver a heart attack is a bad plan. Opening your door to get out at the exact moment a bus is driving past is a pretty certain way to give a bus driver a heart attack. Do you want to keep your limbs and save the lives of up to 70 people? Check your mirror before you get out and wait for a safe gap. It's not that hard.

5. Giving way to buses.
Now, it may come as a surprise to those of you who never read road signs (I'm convinced you're out there), but there's a sign on the back of the bus that looks like this:

Funnily enough, this sign tells you that when a bus is indicating to merge, you're supposed to give way to it. It's nice when you let it. It makes the driver's job a whole lot easier if you obey the law.

...

Actually, to "obey the law", you shouldn't just let them in. The sign actually only entitles a bus to right of way when it's moving away from being stopped at the far left side of the road (so not just merging), and when it's been indicating for more than 5 seconds. Full details here: http://www.legislation.nsw.gov.au/fragview/inforce/subordleg+179+2008+pt.7-div.4+0+N

I just tell you this so you can be informed. However, I know for a fact that there are bus drivers out there who don't even wait for cars to give way before they pull out. Playing chicken with 15 tonnes of metal isn't smart... just let them in, and be prepared for them to cut in front of you.

And on that point... it's kinda funny watching people realise that they're going to have to give way to a bus. First there's an avoidance phase, where they move as far to the right of their lane as possible, and sometimes a little bit into the next lane. Then there's the acceptance, where they awkwardly stop and let the bus in. Then there's the face-saving manoeuvre, which inevitably involves racing past the bus at the next available opportunity. I laughed at people when they did this. It's much easier and safer if you just slow down and don't swerve.

bus tales: the end

Well, I'm no longer driving buses. At the moment, I'm choosing to see this as a positive career move. My stomach is enjoying its reunion with two-minute noodles, and I'm learning to treat take-away food as a last resort rather than a staple, but it's all for the sake of being a well-educated young man. I've had a week and a half away from the job now, and I've been thinking of the ways the job benefited me and of the things I've learned during the year. I thought I might share some of these.

This job taught me that I'm capable of more than I thought I was. A bit of determination and stickability can, apparently, lead to a strengthening of resolve in the face of a challenge, which in turn can lead to facing larger challenges with some kind of courage. Or some such. Basically, I almost quit on my third day at the depot, but I didn't, and I'm kinda glad. God gave me strength when I asked for it on those early early mornings, and He also gave me the courage to use it.

I guess it was also kind of fun. Driving a huge blue and white people cart can be enjoyable, and it's really not as hard as it looks. You get a whole new view of the road. Sometimes that's fun, and sometimes it's frustrating. There were more than a few moments when I found myself thinking "I am a leaf on the wind..." (just to disturb the Firefly fans), and that was a bit of a hoot.

I also got a different view of people, both passengers and other drivers. Some people are just plain rude without apparent cause, and I guess that's just prejudice. Passengers sometimes assume bus drivers are rude and ignorant, or that conversing with them in any way is beneath them. Bus drivers sometimes assume passengers are rude and ignorant, or that conversing with them in any way is beneath them. It's all just stupid really. We're all people, and all doing jobs so we can eat. Whether you want to be a bastard about it is up to you, but I can testify that it's much easier for both parties if you're nice. I think the best thing about this job was the regular passengers I had, who knew me and knew I was a nice guy and a good driver. They were nice to me back, and I think we brightened up each others' days. I was ashamed of my profession when other bus drivers were bastards to passengers, and I'm still extremely critical of bus drivers in general really. On one level, when your job is to sit in traffic jams and carry around a bunch of ingrates you'd expect to have a short fuse, but that's no excuse for being a rude old bastard. "Sad little king of his sad little hill..."

I don't think my faith stood up to the challenge of a high workload as well as I'd have liked. I'm going to have to be extremely careful with that in the coming years, and learn to prioritise better and trust what's trustworthy and not cut corners. The world is full of distractions, and I am a very distractable person.

All told, it's been one of the most informative years of my life. It feels weird for it to be over, and I have to admit that I miss some of the perks (particularly my employee travel pass... that was probably the most valuable thing in my possession). Still, onward and upward! This too will be an interesting year. Stay tuned.