There's Hope for Us All

This afternoon I witnessed the dignity and decency of us humans. If you were to believe the glum news reports of crime filled streets, racism, intolerance and fear, then you would be predisposed to assume that most strangers are potential perpetrators at worst and at best one who doesn't want to get involved. But today I saw the opposite of that.

An elderly woman had fallen on the footpath near our home. We were on our way out when we noticed a small crowd of people standing around. The people were offering to help her but somehow couldn't quite figure how or how much should they really help any stranger. Bea springs into action, gets out of the car and kneels down beside the woman so that she would be at her eye level. The poor woman was confused and started having a mild panic attack. Young Greek Fellow Who Spends A Lot of Time At The Gym suggests to lay her down in the recovery position, everyone agreed. This was my first contribution, I dashed back to the car (where our Little Angel was still strapped to her child seat) and found the pillow so the woman doesn't have to lay her head on concrete.

"I fell."
"It hurts."
"It's never happened before."
"I got scared."
"I feel silly."
"I don't want to be [any] trouble."
"I'm sorry, I fell..."

She kept repeating in varying sequence.  Now this was when I thought of my second contribution.  I needed to get Little Angel out of the car because a) Looks like we're going to be here awhile; and b) a cute little toddler toddling around will help lift the energy of the crowd.Yes, I used my kid for crowd control. Go on and judge me.

I took a mental picture of what was before me:

• An old Italian woman who had fallen over.
• Two young Greek buddies who noticed it happen and came to offer help.
• Two Asian dudes (walking a cocker spaniel) who want to help but not quite sure how.
• A Filipina mestiza toddler walking about and trying to have a conversation with the dog.
• A Uruguayan offering comfort and company.

By this time Bea had connected with the woman asking her if there was someone they can call? Any family? Perhaps a friend? A sad no answer for all queries. Then it hit me, all the other dudes could have walked away and let us deal with it. Instead they lingered, and would have stayed for as long as it took to help this lady, this stranger. Then I did my last contribution of all. I made a brief speech.

Muscle Man was saying that they couldn't walk away if there was anyone who needed help, he said we have to look after each other. I then said that we should be proud to be living in this neighbourhood, where we all look after each other and help each other. When it came down to the crunch, you guys chose to be a hero and help a stranger rather than walk away and not be involved. Go Campsie!



Then it was decided that Bea accompanied the woman all the way home, everyone went their own way as soon as the lady was recovered enough to walk.  As they all walked away I called out to them and promised to greet them hello next time I see them on the street. I also made a quiet promise to say hello to people in any neighborhood.

It's great to be doing the thing that makes it cool to be a human being.

Humanity prevails.

In the Night Garden ...

As an adult watching children shows on a regular basis I have developed favourites. I've also developed disdain for some of these children's shows (I'm looking at you Mr. Moon) for a host of varying reasons. But let's stay positive and stick with just why I like shows like Timmy, Shaun the Sheep, Waybuloo, and my special favourite In the Night Garden...

When I watch them, I try to imagine what it must be like from a child's perspective. Is it colour? Shapes? Music? Snappy dialogue? Intriguing plots? What lesson does it teach?

I find I hate it when a show is too preachy. I've raised a child once and I know that preaching really doesn't work, they do what they want anyway. In the Night Garden... does not preach any moral position. It's just a story where things happen, they just happen and everything remains as it was at the start and end of each episode. Oh alright, at a stretch you can feel that washing one's face, brushing one's teeth, and getting to bed are 'encouraged' - subtly.

I also hate it when shows, children's or otherwise, are predictable. In the Night Garden is mostly predictable, but they so cleverly insert tiny deviations in an otherwise simple plot. Take for example the two vehicles. the Ninky Nonk train and the Pinky Ponk airship. Both are masters of merchandising design genius, yet beyond that they are so filled with details that will keep you watching. The train has one engine and four carriages, not all the carriages are used all the time and I found it a pleasant surprise when Iggle Piggle climbs into the single seat carriage for the first time (he usually rides in the tall carriage with Upsy Daisy); or on the Pinky Ponk where tables are set with little refreshments and you may sometimes catch the Tomliboos sipping away. Or noticing that the Pontipines live in a semi-detached house and wondering if we'll ever meet the neighbours the Wottingers. I would have loved to sit in on the production meetings for these episodes and hear how these ideas are pitched.

I also love shows that are amusing for their own sake like Timmy and Shaun the Sheep. I like the character design for Roary the Racing Car because I used to be a car nut, and I get a kick seeing how the various racing categories are represented like Nascar, F1, Rally, Drifting, and now even Aussie V8 Supercars. This is a brilliant show for ocker dads to share with their kids and build up and bond in a very masculine way that  cannot be accomplished with say Angelina Ballerina hahaha.

I can keep going with this little treatise on my fave kids TV shows but I can see I'm starting to lose the audience here. So thanks for your time, that's it.

Parenting 2.0

I've got a decent excuse for not much blogging. I've been so preoccupied with parenting duties that writing has sadly become a lower priority. Today I've made a conscious effort to use the precious relatively uninterrupted alone time I get to tap out a few keystrokes while baby Saffira has her morning nap.

It's been a good 90 minutes so far. I took care of some paperwork, cooked baby food (sweet potato, cabbage, carrot, chicken), and now this blog.

I feel like my brain is slowly turning to mush with a steady diet of kids television and just playing with a 13 month old girl. I can grab snippets of time about 5-15 minute blocks when she entertains herself. But what can I accomplish in 15 minutes? Get a load of washing on the machine -stop. Hang them on the clothesline -stop. Make a sandwich -stop. Read a news article / watch a youtube video / comment and like my friends' Facebook updates -STOP!

However, it does all accumulate. It's just not in one long contiguous block. Is this what it's like to have ADHD? I can't stay focused on a single thing for too long and it takes ages for the gray matter to warm up to a new task or thought.

What I can say is that Parenting 2.0 has allowed me to enjoy Saffira's development so much more. I no longer fret why she is taking so long to develop a particular motor skill, confident that it will all come in time. I get to enjoy her just as she is and just where she is, because once she's moved on, it's gone for good. All that's left is a memory and whatever we've uploaded to youtube. Oh drats, she's awake now, gotta go...

Who am I and Where am I Going?

Aw come on, surely you have asked yourself these two questions at various points in your life. Maybe at a funeral, a graduation, or in the realisation of an epic failure and the usual bender that follows. Maybe you just find yourself in a quiet lull in between the stuff that keeps us too busy to pause and reflect intentionally.

Right now I'm sitting in an office high rise waiting for some software update to finish downloading and installing and I find my thoughts have brought me back to this blog and why I haven't updated since last year.

To my surprise Forrest Gump is the answer to the first question, and that seems to apply to the second question as well. Allow me to explain. The first minutes of the movie shows a feather being carried by the wind all over the place only to land at Forrest's shoe where he picks it up and admires it. Forrest is a simple man with an appreciation for things that most of us would hardly notice. He is intellectually disabled but somehow he makes his way in a hostile world and manages to touch so many lives in a way that changes them for the better. He does it with courage, honour, and humility.

Granted I am no Forrest Gump, but I'd like to be more like him. I've spent so much of my life living in fear of what the future holds, it's taken me all this time to let go of the controls. What I mean is that until this last decade, I have been furiously paddling upstream to get to a destination that I thought was where everyone was supposed to try to get to. That was damn exhausting.

What I've taken on is to feel which way the current is going and enjoy the adventure. Like that feather in the breeze, it didn't know where it was going, but boy did it get around.

I'm not saying I've become lazy. I still exercise volition and make choices that move my life in a particular direction, but rather than spending my life head down and waiting for the day when I reach my goals, I am taking time to enjoy the journey. Even when the detours seem to lead me away in a totally different direction. I try not to despair even when the detours seem too long and pointless, I'm sure something round the next bend will reveal meaning that will make it worth the delay. It may even set me on a new path and be just as exciting.

Much like this blog post, it all seems pointless. Until...


*************
Newsflash: The movie I was in will be released at Hoyts cinemas on September 1 this year. Hope you all watch it, I'm in the last 10 minutes of the film.

Personal Universe

Among all the creatures in the world, we have the ability to change our universe. I don't mean in the way say we can change the laws of physics (Gravity be gone!) but in the way we can modify our personal environment. As a basic example, we can decorate our room any way we like, take it a step further and we can build the room or the building that contains the room or the city that the building is in.

Today I was on the train commuting home and there were these newspaper sheets torn, crumpled and scattered all over the carriage. I stared at it for most of my trip, feeling annoyed. No, indignant even! There were maybe about a dozen people in the cabin and we all just sat there. Tolerating the mess some inconsiderate moron had left behind for god knows what reason. Maybe it was some kid, having fun shredding it and throwing it on the floor knowing someone else could fucking clean it up. It was that person's idea of modifying his/her immediate universe. Whoever they were, they were long gone, leaving the rest of us to suffer. In my SIMS(TM) universe, I'd have my mood indicator in dull yellow twirling about my head because I'm in a messy room. Nobody did anything, because, well I imagine they were all saying to themselves that "It's not my job."

As I quietly seethed, another thought occurred to me. I can change my environment by A) moving to a cleaner carriage; or B) cleaning it up myself. I went for option B and gathered up what I could of the mess. People stared, some with approving looks. However, I could feel the energy in the cabin relax a few degrees. I held on to the rubbish until I got to my station and deposited it in the bin.

I like to think that I was in a position of power. All the magic I needed to accomplish was achieved by simply changing my environment to make it nicer for me to stay in. As a byproduct, I have made it nicer for everyone else in that carriage. Perhaps their SIMS(TM) mood indicators are now slowly shifting towards a pale green.

It wasn't my job either, but that doesn't mean I have to suffer as a victim. I took control and right now I feel really good about my personal universe as designed by me.

Cooking 4 Life™

For the past four weeks I have been teaching a cooking class. One of my good friends who works with a company helping people with mental disabilities asked me if I would like to teach cooking for their clients. I thought what a great idea, and came up with a program to help these people be more independent, healthy, and confident by cooking simple meals for themselves. I called the course Cooking 4 Life™. It's not fancy gourmet style cooking, it is meant to demystify the art of cooking and show them that if they can read a recipe, they can cook anything.



We have six (6) students and some carers to help manage any challenges that certain types of disabilities may bring into the kitchen. So far, so good. Every week we cook a recipe for a meal and we eat the finished food together, and then wash up together. The most satisfying thing for me is to watch all these students tuck hungrily into a meal that they have just prepared themselves. Time will tell if they end up preparing the dishes in their own homes.

As an offshoot of the classes, I have been approached by the community centre where we conduct the classes. They needed a casual chef and I begin working for them tomorrow.

Season Return

Indeed it has been a while since the last post. How about we pretend it's like a TV series and now we are on season two:

*Pretend TV voice-over with flashback scenes*

Last time on Michael's Life:
*scene* left work at Sheraton;
*scene* fell in love with Beatriz;
*scene* having a baby together;
*scene* went on holiday to visit his family in the Philippines;
*scene* ... and moved in with Beatriz..

*show opening credits*




Life has once again taken a wonderful and slightly unexpected turn. Last time I wrote, I was feeling some angst at my self-perceived failure to make the grade at the Sheraton. Yet at the same time, I was aglow with the beginning of the relationship that I had always been dreaming of.

Beatriz and I had at the start agreed that if we could, it would be wonderful to have a family together. Back then we did not hold much hope that it would happen because of a number of private reasons that made us think that perhaps our capacity to conceive would be less than optimal. And yet here we are, halfway through the pregnancy.

At times I remember how I felt the first time I was an expectant father. I was a young man with no clue and filled with fear that I may be incapable of meeting the responsibility of parenthood. It was indescribably daunting at twenty-three. Now at forty-five, backed by twenty-one years experience of parenting my first daughter, it has at least become describably daunting.

I do not devalue the struggles of the road ahead, I feel like a soldier who's volunteered for a second tour of duty. I go, not because I have to, but this time because I want to.

The first time around, I was constantly afraid of what trials the future may hold and spend my days preparing for the storm that may never come. These days I come from a place of courage, with excitement in my eyes for what is to come. Enjoying today and embracing the challenges as they come.

I am alive.