MUCH A-DO ABOUT NOTHING

1 FEB 09 (sun) 

MUCH A-DO ABOUT NOTHING

The liberating high of living like Cosmo Kramer is starting to fade and the beginnings of its hangover are clouding my self-concept.

At first, realizing the lifestyle of being jobless and responsibility-less seemed like a wonderful existence. The fantasies of winning the lottery so I could do nothing seemed very attractive. I used to be confused when I’d hear people say that most people don’t make good retirees. I would think, “Man, are you kidding me!? Do you know how sweet it’d be for me to not have to get up for somebody else everyday? I’m gonna be the best retiree ever; I’m gonna do nothing except make fruit smoothies, go to the library and ride public buses for personal amusement all day long!” Yeah, I used to look forward to retiring. I’d spend most of my free time concocting schemes that would enable me to live in a way that could facilitate a retired-like existence. 

When I was 19, I joined the ARMY because it seemed like the easiest way to extend my teenage lifestyle; I imagined that the two were very similar. (The signing bonus was the other motivating factor. $8,000 seemed liked a lot of money at the time but little did I know that after the recruiter's cut, the lottery tax it was subject to and other vaguely defined deductions I'd only see a little more than half of it in 4 1/2 years time!) I would spend the days doing ridiculous chores like keeping my room clean, getting good grades and schmoozing up to authority figures so they could find it easier to forgive a likable kid. And spending the rest of my time blowing my meager income on booze, girls and the occasional video game. I also figured that maybe one day I could get the ultimate do-nothing job and become President. (Hiding out in the National Guard, at the time, did seem like step one on Career Path to the White House.) This theory proved only temporarily successful. Before I knew it, things got hot and my vision of taking it easy did not involve dodging chunks of burning hot metal in the streets of some far off armpit of the third world.

At 21 I wanted to travel but didn’t have sufficient funds and the only place I really wanted to go was New Zealand. So I figured the best way for me to get there for the longest amount of time without having to actually do anything was by going to school. So I wrote a few verbose essays about being thirsty for experience, convinced a couple professors who barely knew me to write recommendations on the basis that I’d start applying myself in their classes and submitted a respectable looking application… along with the non-refundable $250 application fee and I was off.  It proved to be the most rewarding experience of my life to that point. I met totally different people. I heard strange yet broadening perspectives. And I learned that there are more than two ways to look at living; everything is just not work or play, serious or goofy, black or white and certainly not as dire as blue state vs. red state.

But mostly I learned that there is a delicate balance in life and the harder you play, the harder you have work to make it all feel right. At least this is the case for me. Go ahead and ask Heather; I’m no fun guy to be around if my balance is all off. She can tell just by looking at me if my little level-bubble is outside of the black lines!

It has been a painful process and it has taken me a long time to realize it but I need structure. I need the reward of accomplishment. And I definitely need to feel the pain of waking up for somebody else because ultimately it’s really for the well being of everybody!

This is why being jobless is starting wear on me. I don’t have anything to do.  For example, right now its mid day and it’s cloudy for the first time in weeks. Heather is at work. I have a stomachache because I ate too much fruit smoothie, my bus pass is out of money and I spent my week’s allowance to pay a late fee at the library. My daydreams are not what I thought they would be! And I know what you’re thinking – “Get a job dummy!”

Well it aint that simple homes! I’m waiting for my work visa to get approved and it’s taking much longer than I thought it would. I went down to the Immigration Office today to see if maybe I neglected to do something, but I haven’t. It is just taking longer because the Case Manager who is handling my application is on holiday (vacation) until next Thursday. So I can’t even apply for jobs (the few respectable opportunities that do exist) until I get a tax ID number. I can’t get a Tax ID number until I get a Work Visa. I can’t get a Work Visa until a guy gets back to his desk on Thursday. 

But even when this does finally go down and I'm finally bonafide, I'm torn between getting a legitimate 9-5 job or piecing together several part time gigs. A good job would allow me to continue to grow and develop as a blossoming young professional in the Project Management Industry. Yet, taking on unique part time jobs will expose me to a wealth of unique experiences that I can one day use as meaningless conversation filler at lunch time meetings with younger people who are my superiors because they took good jobs right out of college were able to develop... blah blah blah...

No, but seriously, working two to three part time gigs does seem intriguing. It would be beneficial on many levels. I would meet ten fold the amount of characters I would otherwise not be exposed to. I would have the ability to take time to do more trips with Heather as we would likely have similarly random schedules and I'd be free to take all of our friends and family around to all the cool spots when and if any of them do come! 

(You have to read this next paragraph using a snooty academic English accent to fully appreciate it.) 

Speaking of which, with some of the time I have had this past week I have made a little movie. It is one minute thirty seconds long and it is about Heather and Me. It is incredibly dorky and I am almost too embarrassed to release it. Not to my dismay, it's contents are 30 MB's too large to be able to post on this web page. I am, however, willing to send it via email to those who ask me to do so. This will also serve as a personal survey to see whom amongst our loved one's are actually reading the words part of our posts. We are getting the impression that only the photographs are being skimmed and the little tid-bits are going largely unappreciated. And since the fair trade of leaving comments in exchange for perusing our weekly galavants is not being met, we are forced into this withholding... 

(end accent here)

(It has been brought to my attention that I have the tendency to be vague. More specifically, I am told that nobody understand "the Vinzant speak", of which the previous paragraph has been written, and that I need to be clearer when speaking to normal humans. So to be clear: I made a small movie about our travels. It is very dorky. So dorky that if any of my friends see it, they will forever make fun of me. But, it's kind of cute in a dorky way. If you want to see it, please tell me and I will send it to you personally.) 

alright! i shrunk it so it's at the bottom of the page. but you should still leave a comment!

ohwelljohngalt@yahoo.com 

MOVING ON!

Just to the east of Christchurch is a huge peninsula. Its called the Banks Peninsula. It takes about 1.5 hours to drive to it's eastern-most edge. Looking at it from an arial view, it looks like a giant mutant bear paw with a dozen toes. Each toe is a massive ridge that extends out into the Pacific Ocean. Between each of the toes are spectacular bays with either private farms or little artsy communities. The furthest toe, which looks kind of like it is a developmentally delayed and curved toe, has an old French colony called Akaroa. A group of French settled there way back when but what remains today is a really neat art community with galleries, cafes and cozy B&B's; all with a French touch. (that sounds kind of kinky uh?) 

Yesterday we tagged along, once again, with the Christchurch Tramping Club. The hike was labeled as "Easy" on the course description. And again, we have learned that 'easy' is a relative term. It by no means was it difficult but it definitely had stretches that were physically challenging and by just looking at the other members who went you would be very impressed with what easy is to these people. For example, the majority of the members were over the age of 40 and few were 60+. One older gentleman was partially debilitated on the left side of his body from a stroke. Another woman had to weigh easily over two and half bills. And another guy looked so old you could almost see through his skin. I was impressed. 

But for as far as the effort to reward ratio, the scenery couldn't be beat!

Above Akaroa on the Banks Peninsula.

A sheep trail.

Looking out from a bluff is Red Bay. 

Standing there on the ledge didn't feel as stupid as it looks.  

Looking at Pompei's Pillar from a safe position.

Looking at a safe position from Pompei's Pillar. 

This reminded me of the 'Cliffs of Insanity' from the Princess Bride. 

If you know anything about Heather's reputation for tripping on her own feet, this should make you very nervous. 

Looking up at a Farmer's shearing shed. 

The best part about going along on these trips is getting to know some new characters. Walking with Heather is the real life, present day Maude. Her name is Liz and she is an eccentric free spirit from Australia. She is a retired nurse and lives between ChCh and Melbourne throughout the year. We've been getting to know her over the last couple of weeks and it's been fun. Heather has taken a special fondness to her because she admires her energy and quirky positivity. Liz has the kind of personality that is free and alive but does not mix well with serious people. 

And, yes, she did the majority of the hike in a one-piece bathing suit. 

Seal Bay. 

Walking down the grassy trail through the bush, you can hear strange wailing and scream-like shrieks in the distance. I heard some discussion amongst the group that maybe it was a person screaming for help. Upon reaching the shore, we found that the source of the noise was coming from a berserk gang of seals. There had to be a hundred of these strange animals. 

A loose seal. 

Liz seizes the opportunity to cool off. 

A seal is not quite sure what to make of Liz. This picture would be funnier if her name was Lucille. 

Just hiking an 'easy' trail. 

On all fours here. 

Looking down onto Red Bay. We made it there for a swim and lunch. 

Down on the beach, there were two deceased penguins. It didn't look like it was killed by physical trauma and so I think it is concerning that on one beach, there were two dead penguins. Rare penguins none the less. I took the picture because i've never seen a penguin this close before; dead or alive... I wonder if this is how people get bird flu? 

(Also, did you know that former Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld is the former Chairman of the single largest Bird Flu Antidote (called Tamiflu) producer in the world? I guess success isn't so much about what you know as it is about about knowing how to produce a treatment for the world's next full scale pandemic...) 

WAY HOME

On our way back home we stopped by this tree. It is over 2,000 years old; We know this because Adrian knows this. (humor combo reference: our last post and Fight Club.) It has a massive girth and it's texture reminded me of the Incredible Hulk's muscles when he's all pissed off. 

Liz takes to climbing because it looks fun. 

I really wasn't this happy to touch it. But I did have to suss up some appreciation in my mind to truly place a value on what it is because the practical minded conservative in me initially thought, "Cool. A Tree. How much fire wood could I get out of this?" 

And these thoughts bothered me. So then I thought of some historical events in my head to put a relationship between history and it's age. 

So I thought, when I was 7 years old watching the 1989 World Series Game between the Athletics and the Giants, I can remember watching the TV screen shake as the entire state of California was bouncing up and down (a fairly formidable memory for me), this tree was here. 

But that wasn't old enough. So then I thought of soldiers kissing family members forever good bye and climbing onto trains to hop the pond to fight in WW1, this tree was here being a tree, bothering no one. But that still didn't impress me. 

So then I went back real far and pictured that while native pacific island tribes in canoes were using the currents and sea birds to precisely navigate across the Pacific Ocean to visit other small islands, this tree was doing what it does, which was still, being huge.

I needed one more to really solidify how old it was, so then I pulled out the deal breaker and thought, when Jesus was doing his thing on the other side of the world, there was a little sapling sprouting out of the ground on a tiny island in the southern pacific ocean that no human being has ever probably seen! Crazy.

Well, Heather's getting anxious and it's time for scrambled eggs. See ya! 

M&H