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