How to Adult 2.0

*blues guitar DUM-dudum-dudum-duh-dududuh-  repeat*

Woke up this morning,

took the dog for a walk

Woke up this morning

took the dog for a walk.

The sun is shininnnn

The moon she's smilin,

I'm gonna get that job today

Then I got in the shower

Got myself a fresh shave

Yeah I got in the shower

Got myself a fresh shave

Slipped on my new belt

Put on my shiny suit

I'm gonna get that job today

Drove for an hour 

Up the mountains way out west

Drove for an hour

Up the mountains way out west

And when I got there

With time enough to rest

Cuz I'm gonna get that job today

We spoke for an hour

About who I really am

We spoke for an hour

About who I really am

SO they know who they're gettin

When I come a workin

I'm gonna get that job today.

Michael's Morning Prayer

I am grateful for another day

In which to pursue my life with purpose

To enrich the lives of everyone I come into contact with

To empathise with all beings, feel their joy and their pain

Share my joy and sometimes sorrow

To accept that this day was given for me to grow and discover

Life and living to the full

I will be here, today

Not yesterday, nor tomorrow, just today.

I honour and cherish today as a gift.

I am grateful to be here.

28 JUN 2006

Weeding my Mind garden

I used to really hate doing menial chores of any kind.  Growing up I had sets of chores to do and hated even having to do them. I did them anyway just so I can be allowed to go out and play. Chore was just something I had to endure in order to get me where I actually wanted to be. My mind was always in the future.

However, lately I've started to fall in love with a chore.  I started turning the tasks of sorting laundry into some kind of mindfulness meditation exercise.   Lately I've cherished these moments of solo tasking as opposed to multi-tasking.  When I focus on the article in my hand and what I must do with it, I find I am anchored to the present.  The sane happens also when I'm doing the dishes, and now it appears, also with weeding the garden.

The first choice is categorizing which are plants that are permanent residents, and which plants are unwelcome for that particular patch of soil. Next thing is learning how to positively identify weed species: what are their features? what do their leaves and buds look like? what's the best way of removing the weed while inflicting as little harm as possible to neighbouring desirable plants.

I then had the insight  that the garden could be  a metaphor for my mind,

and that every plant is an idea

... that branches into even more ideas

... that they can intertwine and interweave

and thrive

or die.

 And  that grand forest of ideas all sprouts from tiny seeds that were once a single thought.

Not all those thoughts are my own.  Many are deliberately put there by other people, with commercial interests. News, Opinion, Advertisements, Street Art, Pop Music, School, the list is endless.

If my mind is my garden, which ideas do I spend the most time on? Was it my own? Are these ideas the best ones to nurture and bear fruit? Or have I plenty of weeds in my garden? Ideas that don't belong or don't serve, yet take up valuable space and time. Some of these have deep roots.  Do I have the tenacity and the courage to get at the core of that idea and let it go?

It's common sense that we watch what we ingest, we know not to drink poison and to prefer yummy over less tasty regardless of how we are told they are good for us.  Same with our thoughts, we generally  choose what to  think, yet we are influenced from outside.

Until I saw that ad, I wasn't thirsty, or hungry. Until I saw that ad, I was quite satisfied with my car and my home. Until I saw that I ad, I felt confident, attractive, sexy.  These were thoughts put into my brain by relentless advertising, all screaming for my attention.  All, sadly, at the expense of other thoughts that I could have chosen to reflect, even enjoy sometimes.

Sometimes, it's not even advertising. Sometimes it's just the people in our lives. That grumpy co-worker who spreads negativity all over, do we really want to let ugly seeds take root in our garden? How about that offensive tweet/meme/social media post, is it fertilizer for some outrage that's already  spreading in our minds?


I have  invasive thoughts and ideas that threaten to overgrow and suffocate my own ideas, my hopes, my dreams.   Where did this idea come from? Something I watched or read on the internet?  A news clip? A blog? A movie? A book?  Perhaps some narrative that I made out of my own personal experiences?   After some reflection, do I need this in my mental garden?   How can I pull out this weed and keep it from returning into my garden?

Or maybe it is a great idea and totally supports my values, my relationships,  my journey,  my ambitions. Ideas like these need to be nurtured and given time and energy.  Prune the dead branches, nurture it with time and energy, we can even graft and intertwine with other ideas,  and eventually with hope it will bear fruit.

Don't let the weeds take up your time and energy, give it instead to the garden that you want to have.

Contentious Cancel Culture

Michael Jackson's legacy is fighting for survival as we speak. Damning allegations of improper sexual relations with children threaten to take down the most powerful cultural icon yet.

Radio stations are expunging Michael Jackson content from their libraries. The Simpsons have pulled an episode from future re-airings because it featured Michael Jackson's voice.

Is it no longer acceptable to eat the sausage once we learned what had gone into it?

This kind of thing has been going on for a long time, but has drawn a lot of attention because of the sheer magnitude of the creative identities getting caught up. I grew up liking The Cosby Show, but after Bill Cosby's rape conviction , I'm not comfortable supporting the show anymore.

Then of course there's Harvey Weinstein, and Kevin Spacey, and recently I just learned of Pixar co-founder John Lasseter leaving Disney after  being stood down for sexual harassment and after being parachuted into Skydance to head its animation division. This triggered actor Emma Thompson's resignation from a Skydance production which she explains in an open letter.

As much as I agree with Thompson's views on how it's hard to award trust back to people who have been perpetrators, I feel that is a concern for today and how we as a society conduct ourselves in the future. However, I'm troubled with re-examining or re-evaluating past achievements under the glare of the #metoo floodlights.

For years we have been enjoying Michael Jackson songs, videos, and  performances. This have gone on and arguably influenced thousands of other artists and significantly, our popular culture. Same goes for those Weinstein and Pixar movies.

After we have been enjoying eating the delicious sausages for decades, we find that the sausage makers hands are dirty.  Are those sausages now impossible to enjoy? 

What about if the sausage makers  promised to wash their hands for all future sausages? do we give  them a chance and taste the new sausages?

For me personally, I think that everyone deserves a chance to reform, but reform must be accompanied by justice.  Justice means to correct the wrongs that have been committed, and especially  if it's really not possible to roll back the clock, then there must be a reasonable period of contrition and penance.

I believe that the works of individuals, -and all of us are flawed, should not be discarded. No one man has created those pop songs and movies.  Hundreds and thousands of innocent creators, musicians, producers, performers and technicians have poured their labour and talents into those projects and do not deserve to lose their work because their boss was a dick.

Michael Jackson's legacy should be judged separately from his human failings.  I should still be able to enjoy Toy Story  and appreciate all the artists and workers who put it together even if their work environment at the time was a cesspit of sexism and misogyny. 

It may take time, maybe for now we are just too close to the trauma.  Beyond close, we are still living in it and working to heal the hurt.  We are working to change things so that everyone accepts that abuse of women and children is not okay particularly if we hold a position of power.

Perhaps in a hundred year's time, future generations will rediscover all these cultural artifacts that we are trying to disown today.  Perhaps by then, people would look back at our time and think to themselves, "Those times were terrible for women and children, I'm so glad we are no longer like that. Yet they still managed to make great music and movies."

Glimpse of Greener Grass

While I was learning  how out of my depth I was with the stand up comedy, I also landed an amazing gig as a demonstration chef for Beefeater BBQs. I mean what's not to love about preparing food and serving food to people who don't have to pay for it? On the contrary, we were using food to purchase people's goodwill, the hope that when it comes time to shop for a BBQ perhaps months or years in the future, they may still remember that crazy Asian chef who made us eat free food. Perhaps have a fond recollection of the brand with sufficient goodwill that they purchase the brand.  It's also called "customer experiential marketing", but I like calling myself a brand ambassador (sounds better than promoter or spruiker).

Then my agent asked me if I was willing to apply for a permanent full time position for another prestige appliance brand. Beatriz and I had a calm and serious discussion about how this will impact our Salsa for Seniors dance classes, i.e. without me being there to co-teach with her.   Strange how it still feels odd to say that I make a living out of my passion for Salsa dance. 

However, cooking is also another of my passions, so we both agreed I should be able to pursue a chefing opportunity as they present. Both children are now in primary school so most of the day is available for gainful employment. I daydreamed about a return to a typical middle-class lifestyle. Go to work, go home, get paid, spend, repeat.  But seriously, it would give us a measure of security we haven't had before, knowing there is that paycheck to expect. As the last 18 months have proven to us: business owners don't have paid sick leave. I also felt I was a good fit for the role because of my life experience as an IT professional prior to working in the kitchen. I came to the interview and kept both interviewers engaged for nearly  an hour. I felt great coming home after the interview. I was moderately confident I got the job.

I didn't.

The team leader felt that I was still lacking in experience. Fair call.  I was kind of hoping enthusiasm and engagement counted for more, but that's life. It took a little bit longer to emotionally detach  from those daydreams I had of life as it could have been if I had got the job.

Feeling a little disappointed so now what can I do to pick up my mood? Well how about I take a shift in a new kitchen to help accumulate more hours of experience that I so desperately needed in greater abundance. I said yes to a 12 hour split shift with a 2 hour break in the middle.

The exec chef puts me to work searing about 150 mini burger patties to go into sliders for tonight's catering event. Two of us casual chefs finished this task and were then sent to a satellite kitchen to finish assembling the sliders: bun, mayo, patty, tomato, bbq sauce, bun.   With a bamboo stick through it to keep the tiny burgers together. Next I was given a whole prosciutto to slice into fine wide ribbons. These would be later rolled up into rosettes and arranged on serving boards.

I saved the prosciutto offcuts and the left over buns and brought it up to the staff room to share over lunch. After the break, it was all hands on deck to set up the cocktail buffet and serve up the cocktail menu for 300 pax. And then it got busy. Traying, piping, deep frying. at some point I was tasked with blanching cooked pasta, abuut 5 kilos.  If I drop all 5 kilos in, the giant pot would drop off the boil and will take ages to get back to boiling. Turns out that's how you do it.

At the end of the service, all the left over food was binned, As a professional chef, I understand that all that food has been out of temperature control for over 2 hours.  Left over can not be resold to any customer. I watched as gastronome trays of good food are tipped into the wheelie bin.  Trays of uneaten but artfully rolled prosciutto also went in the bin.  It reminded me of holocaust film clips of bodies bulldozed into mass graves.  It mad me sick, I couldn't sleep even though I was physically exhausted, Those sliders were my babies, from the moment I flipped each patty until we arranged 26 little sliders on a serving board for the waiters to serve.   We binned so many of my babies, I was only able to sleep after I had a moment to weep for my discarded babies, If it were up to me I would have happily walked around Pitt Street with a full tray of sliders and offer them to strangers while wearing my uniform of the establishment. We could have traded that waste for goodwill.

Funny Idea

Last month, I attended a professional development program called Speaker's Institute Boot Camp. It was a great 3 days of learning how to be a better communicator and influencer by being a better speaker.  I also learned what my Clifton Strengths (TM) top 5 are; they're like your superpowers unique to you, or if you're familiar with D&D  it's like learning what race and class you are and what are your special bonus features.

We all had our transformation, I discovered that I like speaking on stage and that I can be funny on stage. Plus Sam Cawthorne threw out a challenge to the class to get on the Melbourne Comedy festival.   CHALLENGE ACCEPTED.

I see my destiny laid out before me.  First Open mic, then paid gigs, Sydney Comedy Festival, then Melbourne.   I use my superpower of Intellection to ruminate about what's funny in our world, I enhance it with my powers of Connectedness to find even more strange twists and confluences that could be made funnier. My superpower of Input will allow me to absorb tons of material to feed into the maw of my giant Intellection factory farm. Cue evil laugh -Mwahahahahaaa!

First thing, I need to go to a few open mics just to check the state of the industry. Is my kind of funny accessible to contemporary audiences?  I've been twice on a Monday, one Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday.  From all I have seen, I am encouraged that I can be funny enough if not funnier than the average.

I promised Sam I'll get on an open mic within 30 days of the Boot Camp, well folks. I'm now down to the last 7 days on that countdown.  I will put my name down as many times as I can this week.

Starting tomorrow, I'll have a punt at the Louis Hotel in Lewisham. I am ready.

Back in the Game

Today was my first chef job in a long time. I'm a casual at a catering company and at a cafe, they pretty much call me to fill a gap in their staffing especially if they have a catering job.  I like to call myself a chef as long as someone else is willing to pay me to do the job even if only occasionally. My quiet fear is that if I don't get to practice professional cooking then I might become rusty and be of less use than a first day apprentice.

However, today was special. I was looking forward to working for Chef Krys, my unwitting mentor, my former teacher at cooking school, who also runs his own catering business. It has been a long time since the last shift he's tossed my way, I wonder if his style has changed much.  I was also nervous because I had a bit of a drama two days ago.

Over the past week, I've been feeling what I diagnosed as a "stiff neck". So meh? What do ya do? I soldiered on, the damned thing will go away on its own time. Last Sunday morning I had the shocking experience of feeling my head unsupported by my neck muscles as I was descending down the stairs on some errand.  Every signal my brain asked of my neck muscles to please do its job was met with sharp jolting pain. The kind that I visualise as tiny electric sparks every time I try to tell my neck muscles to contract and hold my fuckin' head up. As it turns out, I managed to wobble down the stairs like a circus performer balancing a pole on his head with a ball at the  tip. As soon as I was on level ground I used my hand to prop up my neck and made my way to the sofa so I can sit down, All this time I'm giving Beatriz a running account of what was happening to me like some demented radio sports commentator. As soon as I was seated I started to lean back on the sofa so as to brace my head and neck against the cushion and try to make sense of what just happened.

After trying to move my head on all axis to determine range of motion, I rediscovered that stiff neck I had been ignoring for the last couple of days. I felt around my neck and shoulders and found a hard knot of muscles just above my right scapula. Fuck! Sunday was gonna be a busy day and how the fuck can we get all those jobs done when I'm supposed to be the muscle?  Beatriz is still recovering from knee surgery and still uses a crutch to get around, yet all I could think of was I just need a neck brace and I can get back to work and soldier on. Patch me up and send me back into battle, Sarge!  I had a little giggle imagining the two of us showing up to class with her on crutches and me in a neck brace -people might think Salsa dancing is too dangerous?

Of course, Beatriz talks some sense into me, I sat on the sofa for a while and considered other options besides a neck brace. That's when I thought "What about Tuesday, I can't cook with one hand supporting my neck! Shit!  Damn, I may have to cancel my shift - where's my phone? Aha here it is. AAAAGhhh! What the fuck! The mere movement of picking up my phone and looking at it sent pain signals that took me by surprise, yet led me to the most amazingly obvious conclusion:  The reason I have the stiff neck in the first place is due to smartphone neck . 

Now that I know what it is, I can treat it like any muscle strain. Rest and ice. By nighttime, I discovered I cannot lie down in the normal way which is to sit on the bed and lie back until horizontal.  I had to support my neck and crawl on all fours before dropping one side to roll on my back.  Took it easy yesterday and found it easier to lie down last night so I'm feeling ready to work today. 

Except for all the heavy labour, I didn't look forward to that. During the first hour we transported 2 heavy ovens, 2 gas burners, gas bottles, all the food, giant pots and trays, gastronomes, crockery, glasses and cutlery. Halfway through carting 4 crates of heavy plates I was ready to doubt if I can actually last the rest of the shift.  I remembered to take my ibuprofen and soldiered on.

My first job was to tray up all the chicken breasts, then Chef Krys got me to set up the two gas stoves outside the kitchen to cook the desert sauce and the mushroom sauce. Yes, I can do this!  There was a bit of a lull as we await the go ahead to start sending out 285 hot meals. I was at the head of one pass: first the mash is spooned onto the plate, chicken goes on top, green veg arranged next to it before I get to nap sauce onto the dish and make sure the plate is clean before letting the waiters whisk it away. I was responsible for half of every plate that hit the tables.

As the service was winding to a close, I'm not usually expecting some freebie left-overs for take home, although I have worked for other outfits that do not mind if staff take home left-overs. It was still a shock when I was told to just throw out so much left-overs.  I do get it, Chef  has already chosen which left-overs to take home and salvage, the rest is waste. He employs contract staff for functions like this, so if one staff gets to take home, then all the staff should be allowed.  Not good business to employ staff to squabble  about  how much left over they are allowed to take home.  I get it.

I shed a tear as I binned the surplus mushroom sauce and dessert sauce.  To help me take the edge off this yucky feeling, I chose to celebrate something else I did today that was not wasteful. I helped a couple of the waiters splash the left over drinking water from the jugs into the gardens and lawn.

Yes, I suppose I can still say I'm a chef. Now get off your screen and save your neck for chrissakes!