Twelve Months of Separation

And so it is. 

Today marks one year since my wife and I separated. Twelve months, three hundred and sixty five days. 

That's a lot of time to contemplate and heal. 

I've lost a lot in the past year 

(a wife, shitloads of money, my cat Sebastian...)

But I've also gained a new perspective on life. I now have the ability to appreciate the little things, the day by day things. 

I've shed my share of tears, and at times when discussing or thinking about my past relationship, I have to catch my breath and bite my cheek in attempt not to shed more.

I miss her daily. But more for the little things now. Those things I fell in love with that made all the bad things happening toward the end seem worth the pain. But sadly, a relationship isn't made up of just little things. Somewhere she lost respect, unconditional love, and patience with me. I could blame it on the depression or her being bipolar, but in the end it doesn't really matter. I lost my wife, the person I fell in love with. All I can hope in the future is that , perhaps, she will feel that I was the one she let get away. 

Selfish, I know. That's what I get for being a romantic, and watching the movie Love Actually once a year. (I blame my upbringing without a father figure until I got older). 

I definitely have baggage. And although my suitcase is a little worn and torn, the contents are intact. Thanks to my last journey I now know how to pack. So the next time I take a trip down the road of love, the baggage will contain enough content for vacation, business and emergency. And perhaps a bottle of Clamato. I so miss drinking Caesars. 

I honestly don't know what I want at the moment. Love, sex, more money, sex on top of a bed of money... But I'm okay with not having any of those things. I have great friends in two countries, family I've never felt closer to, a stress free job, and residence in what I believe is a little bit of paradise. 

Of all the wonderful words of support and advice I received from friends and total strangers, one stood out from the rest, because it sums up my emotional state and optimistic outlook, and I'm hoping my journey leads to a comparable, wonderful, life that this person now lives:

"I thought my life was over in terms of finding love again. I had heard divorced men talk of finding love again, and it always came across like they were fooling themselves, that they had settled for a moderated form of happiness that they would think back on ruefully at their death bed.

But I had an irrational faith in myself (thank god!) and my gifts and had this feeling that I'd find love again. I didn't know how, but I did know it would involve NOT SETTLING EVER.

Since the divorce, I've dated several women, making mistakes with all of them, being a douche and receiving douchiness. But even at the time, I knew it was all preparation and training for THE ONE who would come (if I was lucky enough to be available when we would meet). You know how before you were a black belt, a part of you was wondering how different would it be from your purple belt? (Yes, this is a stupid analogy, but bear with me.) But once you got it, all that hard work and dedication to ONE VISION suddenly coalesced into a strong sense of who you had become.

I've found relationships with women to be that way. I kept dating, dating, while working on myself and putting one thing ahead of everything else: my own happiness, for that is the only thing under my own control.

Then, one day five years ago, my best friend introduced me to (*****). The rest is history. Not guaranteeing it will last, since there are no guarantees, but we're both pretty confident that it will. It took patience and work and dedication to our vision, but we've never been happier. And this is true when I say this is way better than I had ever envisioned for myself. I've done nothing to deserve it, yet here it is: happiness.

You have so many gifts and so many options and so many people who love you. You know all this. I'm sure of it. But from what I recall, there will be several nights when sadness and regret will come raining down on you like a sack of bricks and you'll cry like a baby. Many nights. And it's necessary.

You're going to thank your lucky stars for all of this suffering many years from now.

And, if the case is that you and ****** are, indeed, working this all out to keep trying, well, fuck me."

I am the King of my Destiny. 

And so it is.

Jimmy

Women Love a Dick

Congratulations on letting your curiosity get the better of you. I was referring to the personality trait held by some men, rather than the phallus. If you are searching for the latter perhaps try this site.

Let's continue shall we:

Perhaps I’ve been jaded by the Gold Coast, Australia culture, where even the most genuine of women tend to get caught up in the facade of superficiality, and a false impression of what a ‘man’ is.

I’ve built some amazing friendships since my move here, and am surrounded by some of the most beautiful women in the world, inside and out. (How can you not love a community that spends 80% of the year in their swimsuit or shorts and thongs - Flip-Flops in N. America – this isn’t Brazil).

 It is no secret that many women are attracted to 'dickheads'. Cocky, brash, testosterone filled 'dickheads'.

Even when I was at my most athletic and in my prime; training Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu 6 days a week, taking MMA fights, pumping iron, and hitting the night clubs, I always considered myself a gentleman. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure my friends can tell you about the many times I’ve come off as a dick:

 Breaking up with a girl during the movie “Titanic’ (it surprisingly made her want me more)...

"We need to talk"

...dating the friend of a girl I was originally interested in, only to realize the ‘girl of interest’ was actually into me in the first place (hint for the guys: Don’t breakup with the friend thinking your true love interest is going to jump into your arms. There’s a girl code you might not know about. Best girl-friends don’t usually date the guy who just dumped their best friend. You will be left a sad, lonely, confused guy).

But, these are isolated incidents, exceptions to my rule. Not the the Modus Operandi of todays typical 20 and 30-something male (stereotyping). 

I’m talking about the 80/20 rule of 'dick'. 80% of the time he’s a 'dickhead'. The other 20% he's a 'dickhead' in waiting.

Ladies, here’s a hint for you:

If you date a guy JUST because he drives a nice car, has money, like his social status, or has a “sexy accent”. You’re being superficial. 

If you are constantly giving excuses for "your man" saying “he’s not like this when it’s just him and I”, or "he only gets this way when he drinks”, or “around the guys”. He’s a 'dickhead'. He’s probably not going to change.

It’s no secret from my past blogs I’m trying to figure out my mojo again.

Of course I acknowledge I’m a little bit eccentric at times. And, perhaps I’ll look back this passage in a year and say “what a dick” (see how I flipped who the real 'dickhead' is). 

But, I’m going to throw caution to the wind and lay all my chips on the table and bet that in one year I’ll be with a smart, sophisticated, funny and beautiful lady who likes my canted humour, dashes of poetry, honesty, and the ability to choke someone unconscious in 3 seconds (had to save a little tough guy persona).

If you are of the female persuasion and are considering some “dickhead’ reform, look no further than the guy reading a book sitting at your local coffee shop, or your “dickhead’s” attractive friend who doesn’t feel the need to show everyone how tough he is, but rather shows the strength of his character instead. 

The next time you talk to a guy, block out the sound of his voice, don’t focus on his physicality, and look straight into his eyes. That’s where you’ll truly see his heart. The glimmer of his soul.

And guys, the moment you realize that women are filled with insecurities, no matter how beautiful. And if you stay true and are confident in who you are; then you will find that true love of your life (I’ve left out the word ‘one’ leading into true love -  this guy deserves another shot at success). 

Endnote: Ladies, ignore the comments of 'searching for soul in the eyes' if you’re just looking to get laid. By all means, look at his muscles; get wooed by his accent. But just remember, that guy that you just walked by with the soul in his eyes, just might be the love of your life.  

Jimmy

You've Got Mail - The Toils of Online Dating

Let's face it. I'm not getting back together with my ex, it's been over seven months since our separation. It's time to jump back into the dating scene.

That's right ladies, I'm all yours!

  



Once the ladies have rinsed their mouths after throwing up a little, let's continue.

WARNING: Contents WILL be unsuitable for some readers.

As I was saying, I'm jumping - perhaps jumping is an overstatement. I'm prowling like a ninja back into the dating scene. (Ninjas are cool).

Now for those of you that know me, or even those people that don't, you probably have assessed that my humor and mysterious charisma are not for every woman (I'm no Tom Hanks, but you're probably no Meg Ryan). I'm certainly not socially inept, but most women, at first meeting, have trouble figuring me out. I'm a little in 'your' face. A line crosser if you will.  On the second or third meeting they tend to start getting me, or at least learn how to put up with me. 

The problem is the women I click with here in this sunburnt country are either dating someone, married, or we've crossed the threshold into friendship. Sex (yes I jumped right to sex) with any of these three groups is wrong. 

I couldn't handle the guilt of messing with someone's relationship. It might be fun for a night, our hearts might go thump thump when we're around each other, but my guilt, and I hope their's, would quickly set in.   

The third group, "Just Friends", has possibilities. But, you have to wonder why you didn't get together initially, and it would totally mess up the friendship dynamic.

Most males right now are saying "Idiot, who cares, just get some!" (but said in more of a crude manner). The females are most likely saying "Awww, isn't that sweet, he's a gentleman". (I will never figure out the mind of a woman, so this is only a guess - beautiful, intelligent, complicated creatures you are)

Believe me, part of my being (the part below the belt, that hangs above the knees) would love to do the 'Wham Bam Thank You Mam' with all three of those categories, but somewhere in my upbringing (I blame growing up in an all female, aside from myself, household).

I have been conditioned as a gentleman. Even though the words that come out of my mouth may be perverse and crude at times, a gentleman I'll stay.

To sum up my personality: 
Weird perverse guy with a good heart. 

Any takers yet?

No, then let's move on shall we.  

The JUICY Bits

I've enlisted myself in a couple online dating sites here in Australia. One I pay for, the other free. But the people on the latter are a little 'fishy' (some of you will get this reference).

Here's how the pay site works. Men and women can send Kisses (prewritten text like "I think you're hot, wanna chat" Reply: "Go fuck yourself you smelly whorebag" - that one doesn't actually exist, but it would certainly amp up the site). If the other person is open to chatting one of them can send an email which has to be paid for (around $15 per email). And let's face it, most women aren't going to be the ones paying to send the email.

- Although one lady did send me an email. But judging from the photos of her (laptop camera pics of her in various crazy poses - one was her dressed up as a cat, another had her hair sprayed straight up) and the email she sent, she might have been 'special'. Her account was disabled a couple days later.  I can only assume her caregiver found out about her love connections. - 

I get about three to five Kisses a day, and according to my roommate, that's very good for a male. The problem is many of them are well above my age range. Good on them though.

I have been out on a couple dates thus far:

Date #1

My first date was on the morning of my birthday. I met up for coffee with a lady in her late 30's (or so her profile said). I initiated contacted because her profile made her seem down to earth, cool, and her photos were very vivacious (a more attractive Reese Witherspoon with a smokin' body). She has two children, which I must admit scared me a little; although I was pretty sure she wasn't going to bring them on a first date.

We both agreed to meet at a beach side coffee shop on our bicycles at 9am. I arrived early to secure a seat. At about 9:05am I look up and saw a cute blond pedaling her pink cruiser toward the shop. I played it cool, and pretended I didn't see her immediately. 

After I purchased us coffees I sat down to what would be an hour of her talking about herself. Only interrupted by her saying "Oh, this conversation has been all about me, we should talk about you" and then she would continue her description of the last movie role she was in, the sadomasochistic Saudi friend who meets women at the casino, takes them into underground parking, and performs a range of S&M-esque acts on them with tools he keeps in his trunk (that's the boot for my Aussie readers, and for my Catholic readers: S&M is similar to what they used to do in the middle ages with prisoners:

Yikes! 

She also talked about her children who seemed sweet, but perhaps needed a few more rules. But who am I to say, I don't have children. I'd probably use techniques on them I learned watching the Dog Whisperer. 

Another, more superficial, let down was that her face did not match her dating site photos. Sure, she was the same person, but looked A LOT older. Her face was caked with coverup which didn't do a very good job of hiding her age. Which I'm assuming was the mid to late 40's. Now, that's not old, but too old for me right now.

The date ended around 10:15. We decided to cycle back in the same direction, since we only lived a few blocks apart. I stopped by her place for a few minutes, and through our conversation mentioned that it was my birthday that day. I said I didn't want to bring it up earlier because I didn't want to make the date weird, or make her feel obligated.

About ten minutes after arriving home I received a text from her. It said "Happy birthday ;-) xo" and included this photo:

I've only added this photo because it doesn't identify her. That is, unless you can recognize her butt. 

She has been in movies, so you just might.

I've decided not to go on a second date with her. Although the photo tempts me daily.

Date #2

I'm attracted to women who are more intelligent than myself, that can keep me on my toes intellectually. I'm far from a genius, but I'm above hour long discussions about "how pissed they got last night".

I arranged to go on a date with a 28 year old who is currently working on her Masters in Criminology. She minored in Psych and works part time counseling felons on the verge of being locked away. It wasn't just the possibility of free counseling that prompted me to ask her out, it was her quick, dry wit, a razor edge sarcasm that cut me to the chase.

We met up for drinks and tapas at a funky restaurant near the area she lives. When she arrived we took a seat at the bar, ordered a bottle of wine (she chose Pinot Grigio - good start) and some amazing holoumi (we were both fans of cheese and the magical holoumi - that was definitely a good start). 

And it went downhill from there.

We didn't so much as converse, as much as it was a debate. It was me defending myself all night from her ridiculous assumptions and her razor tongue. She proceeded to tell me she didn't have any friends and hardly ever went out "...because most people are assholes". After realizing her approach, and comforting myself with the assumption she was just masking insecurities (which I later told her) I followed up her statement of "Most people think I'm a bitch" with "Are you?". She admitted she most likely was.

At one point after she was getting heated at me after I said I didn't care about the bartender's opinion of me (this was after she said "the bartender thinks you're a tool") "You don't care what a bartender thinks?...you're too good for him?...I used to be a bartender..." I calmly looked up at her and said "If you are too upset to continue with this date, I'm happy to pay and drive you home" (at this point I was having fun, it felt like I was in a movie). She looked at me with the 'that's just crazy talk' eyes and said she was having a good time.

The night ended, I gave her a ride home, and quickly drove away. Although I was kind of aroused by her intensity, I was much more scared of the dominatrix garb she would have dawned after I entered her apartment. I should get Date #1 to introduce Date #2 to the Saudi guy.

I don't believe in the baseball analogy, 'three strikes you're out, but at this point I kind of just want to head to the dugout and forgo my next turn at bat. 

  

Although, there is another, potentially, lovely lady who is now a Facebook friend. She has a great sense of humour, is sexy, and seems quite intelligent.
      But our conversation kind of fizzled. 
Probably because she realized I was more than ten years older than her. 

At what point do either of you Unfriend each other anyway?

I think the reason many older people have 'troubles' on the dating scene is they're too damn comfortable with themselves. Most people in their late teens to early thirties still try to mask who they are on dates, trying to impress the other. I could give a crap. Not that I go into it without a  thought of romance, or never try to act suave. I still have insecurities, I just don't mask them. 

Examples:

Date #1 is superficial and can't release the vanity that used to work so well in her youth.

Date #2 is a bitch. She may still be young, but at least she knows what she is.

Me: (as stated earlier) Weird, perverse guy with a good heart.

I may not be having the best luck with the ladies right now. But, patience will hopefully pay off (like a ninja). I scored a Home Run once, and I'm going for a Grand Slam this time (I've included links to these baseball references for my Aussie readers). 

"Tis better to have loved and lost, than to never have loved at all" 

                                                                   - Screw you Alfred Lord Tennyson!

Love,

Jimmy

On a side note: 

I've recently launched a website for an eBook I'm writing: www.acanadiansguide.com

  

If you've ever been to, or lived on the Gold Coast, Australia, fill out the survey and you might win an eReader and a copy of my upcoming book A Canadian's Guide to the Gold Coast. 

Or if you want to visit there as a tourist, it will be filled with humorous tips, helpful links, and local deals. 

You can also follow on Facebook, or Twitter @CanadiansGuide

Anticipating Moment To Moment

I have always been amazed at people who enjoy the little moments in life. Those people who take pleasure from the smallest of conversations or the simplest of interactions.

                                                                     (Vancouver Riot 2011 - Courtesy: The Guardian)

I on the other hand am an 'anticipator'. I pre-plan life's events in my mind. So when things don't quite go exactly the way I imagined them to be I feel a sense of disappointment or lack of accomplishment. I don't live in the moment. I'm always talking to people about "planning ahead for variables" rather than just living life. I can tell you, it's stressful being an 'anticipator', and at times for those people associated with one. Ask my ex about going to a movie with me, or the airport, especially. Who wants to show up for a domestic flight three hours prior? Me, that's who. Gotta plan for those variables. IDIOT!

I've spent an estimated twenty three years trying to anticipate my next move, wondering what the futures going to be, and attempting to change who I am in order to meet my expectations. But I honestly kept thinking I was coming up short, and I'd be caught with my pants down.

You Can't Plan For Happiness

Sure you can put certain things in place to buck the odds for said happiness. I'm not saying "never plan". But, we've all seen horrible things happen to good, hard working, people who had their life planned out.
What good would have years of planning and "anticipating" have done for my friend from university who died of cancer? Or for an ex-girlfriend (my first love) who was involved in a horrific car accident and is now wheelchair bound with limited body movement and short term memory? 
What did all my forethought do for my failed marriage? Diddly Shit, that's what! I spent so much time thinking of the future that I let some of life's little, BEST, moments get away. 

My younger sister, Kathleen, is currently traveling around Europe in gypsy fashion. Picking up odd jobs here and there, meeting new people, taking bike trips around Romania, spending the night in photography studios in France, and preparing gluten free baked goods for little old ladies in Croatia (forgive my inaccuracies Kathleen). She is someone I truly admire, someone who has taught me so much just by living day to day. She has no fear, finding happiness in those tiny interactions I spoke of.


I'm not writing to offer up answers due to an epiphany I just had. I'm honestly still confused about how to live life in the moment, and am unsure what true contentment is.
Sure, I'm starting to take things day by day, moment by moment. I no longer stress about work for example. I sail in, work hard, and leave job related problems and politics at work.
I've started doing activities on impulse. I'm now taking Latin dance classes (I'm on class 4), learning to play the guitar (I can play the E chord, but not well - and every time I strum the guitar I'm in the habit of singing "E, E, E, Eeee"), and met a new roommate online (I move in this coming Sunday. She seems sweet and a little bit sassy).

I'm actually looking to you for solutions. 

What are some of the tips for living a stress free, moment to moment, lifestyle? I'm looking for proven, and effective tips here. I realize some of the suggestions may only work for the person offering up the tip, but I'm trying to stray away from those people who are 'full of advice' but don't 'practice what they preach'.

For now I'll start slow, living from week to week, and hopefully by years end I'll have mastered the moment by moment thing. I don't want to miss life's next Double Rainbow.

                                                              


                                                     Fuck You Variables!

The Keys to a Successful Business

The other morning I walked up to the counter of the coffee shop* I always stop at before work. The Barista** offered me a complimentary coffee, and then gave me a card which offers a free coffee every eighth cup purchased. The service there has always been mediocre, but the chairs are super comfortable and great for reading. Frankly I didn't think they noticed me as a regular customer until today. I have now become loyal to the establishment. Which brings me to the keys of a successful business.

Consistency and Spontaneity

I know they seem like opposing ideas, but combined these two ingredients make up the perfect recipe for good business. Let me explain.

When you get a haircut*** at a salon what are your expectations? Most the time you expect your stylist to interact with you in the same way as the last visit, to cut your hair the same way as last time (unless you request something different of course). Basically you want the same level of service, and the same person, each and every time you enter the salon. Now, most people will accept a variance to this guideline at least one out of every twenty visits (not a scientifically accurate calculation). But, what happens if your usual stylist is absent on multiple occasions, even though you booked an appointment with them? The salon receptionist then tells you a different stylist will be cutting your hair. Same friendly service, same great cut. But it's just not the same is it?
Or, your stylist offers you a coffee during the first few visits and then suddenly stops offering? Or, your stylist suddenly gives you bangs when you were so happy with the bowl cut you were getting for months.

(I call this the Dumb and Dumber cut, believe it or not I thought it looked good at the time {1990's}. George Clooney had something similar, but less bowl-ee) 


I know these things sound trivial, but most people are not conditioned for these variances.

Now, let's say you have been going to the same stylist for five years. Let's name her Samantha (I prefer female stylists, in case some of you are wondering about my choice of gender - I get too much satisfaction from a hair wash to allow another man's meaty hands touching my scalp) You've developed a pretty close relationship Samantha, bordering on friendship. Great, consistent, service and amazing haircuts. But every few months, out of the blue, Samantha gives you a free container of hair gel, or says "try this shampoo out for me". Would your loyalty to that stylist and salon go up a notch?

Like in all good relationships consistency can turn into boredom. Throw in a little spontaneous gesture now and then and that customer relationship could turn into lifelong loyalty, and a string of recommendations.


end notes:

* in case you're on the Gold Coast and want mediocre, but consistent, service and a nice cup of coffee, check out Gourmet Espresso in the Pacific Fair shopping centre. They may just surprise you. Look for me between 9:45 and 10:30am in one of the comfy chairs reading on my iPad.
- authors note: since originally starting this article the service at said coffee shop has gotten much better. Or perhaps I'm fooling myself into believing it ever since my free cup of coffee.


** did you know Barista is Italian for someone who works behind the bar (aka bartender)? So, the next time you're at your local pub, keep referring to the bartender as a Barista. Be wary of the surly ones though. You may discover extra, flemy, ingredients in your drink.


*** the idea of consistency in relation to haircuts was explained way better in Malcolm Gladwell's book 'The Tipping Point'.

All Work and No Play...

It's been awhile since I wrote in this blog. I've been so busy living that I forgot that I wanted my living to be about being creative. Hence, starting this blog.

Let's catch up:

Still crashing at my surfer/pool shop entrepreneur friend Elliot's place. I tried giving him money for rent the other day, but he refused. He's like that, generous bastard!
So I bought him a hands free mobile device for his van.

The same van I seem to be using everyday. Did I really buy the device for him or me? Trust me, it was for Elliot. Until two weeks ago he didn't have one song on his iPhone. He didn't know how to transfer it. So I am doing my mate a service by making life easier. That is, when he eventually gets to drive his van again.

I finally landed a job. My mission is to stay on the Gold Coast. Unfortunately there aren't many opportunities for someone with my TV expertise. So in order to stay on the coast I applied for a couple practical, and a few "I have no experience in it, but what the hell" jobs. After losing out on a couple 'fun' positions (Sales and Development rep for a beer brewing company, and Digital Manager for Gold Coast Tourism) I landed a combination of both. I have now joined a cult of sorts. The Cult of Mac. I am selling and giving technical advice at an Apple Reseller called Next Byte. At first I wasn't too enthused (pay not what I want), looking at it as a temporary gig before I found something better. But I'm really starting to like it. Talking about Apple products all day is something I think is fun (Yes, I Am A Geek). 

                                           (not actually me ;)


And, let's just say I'm learning a lot about the inner workings of Macs by some people that are much smarter. That fills in the no 'real work' experience portion of my job find. Not that I was a slouch on a computer prior. But, I now know the difference between an i5 and an i7 processor, can change the ram and hard drives on most laptop and desktop computers, and can sell the shit out of an Apple TV.


I still can't surf well. Surfing is HARD. I'm not a strong swimmer. The left rib I popped out years ago jams into the board when I'm paddling out, making the ride very uncomfortable. I can't seem to get past the surging white water to the calm ocean five meters away. The rip drags me half a kilometer north. And there have been an ever increasing amount of shark sightings along the coast. A guy was bit a week ago.

 The cool thing is he was riding one of my friend Kane's KB boards at the time and they showed it on channel Nine here in Australia. Even sharks love KB boards. (I'm building Kane's website for him, there will be a rough version up by the end of the week - check out www.nightmareshapes.com )

I have cut Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu out for a bit. I've temporarily lost that aggressive edge and feel like a white belt on the mats. I'm going to focus on getting my body back in shape (yoga, pilates, circuit training), meditating, and perhaps stop focusing so much on myself and do some volunteering. 

 

That been said, I spent the weekend, with a cold, drinking, eating crappy food, and haven't done a lick of exercise.

I'm trying to relearn how to be attractive to the opposite sex again. I got complacent when I was married* (See below for note). And some of my mannerisms and attitudes don't play so well on the Gold Coast social scene. Let's face it, I'm kinda weird. 
My goal is to shadow my friend Cuzzy (real name Shane).


He has an ease and naturalness about him that women gravitate to. I start talking to them, but they seem to always end up with Cuzzy. I think they just dig his eyes (according to ladies I've spoken to), and his little pit puppy name Sonny. Friggin' Kiwis!







Honestly I think he's a 'Woman Whisperer'.

        Take these photos from last night as an example: (location Tonic in Labrador, QLD)

*side note:

* "when I was married". How do you refer to someone who you're still married to but separated? She's still technically my wife, but when trying to move on in life it produces a few obstacles. Conversing with women saying "my wife lives in Far North Queensland" may be a little off putting. I know, I know. Just don't mention I'm separated. Well, you give me a good answer to "How long are you staying in Australia?" ..."Oh, how did you get Permanent Residency?". Keep in mind I am having trouble lying as of late. I'm kind of hoping my life life turns out like the movie 'Forgetting Sarah Marshall'. Except I'd like to skip right to the end. Well, perhaps I'd still keep that sexual montage (minus the crying scene).

Next blog: how I got the finger from a topless woman
Future blog: Gold Coast lifestyle observations aka 'No Shoes, No Shirt = Service'


Live your dream,

 

Jimmy

My Perspective on Perception

per·cep·tion/pərˈsepSHən/

Noun:

The ability to see, hear, or become aware of something through the senses. The state of being or process of becoming aware of something in such a way

Isn't it interesting how we perceive external stimuli differently depending on the mood or the current state of life we're in?

Take for example: Oh let's say, Subject A moves to a foreign country with his wife, only to have his marriage and life fall to pieces around him.

Okay you guessed it. I'm Subject A (Feeling more like Subject F at the moment). 

 The point is, everything I do and almost every piece of stimuli seems to take on a new, deeper, meaning.  The surfing lesson I wrote about the other day could easily become a metaphor for love and marriage. In fact, I spent an hour yesterday writing about their similarities. I've decided not to share it, because frankly, it came off a little cheeseball. but here are a couple highlights:

...I had no clue how to get up on the board. I lay on it shaking from side to side, the deep, churning water threatening to pull me under. But I knew the reward far outweighed the fear and risk... 

...But, no longer able to keep balance, I plummeted head first into the murky waters. Struggling to reach the surface, I knew, I hoped, was there...

 

...In my heart I wanted so bad to go back for the board. But looking at it from a distance I realized the board was not meant for these seas. Cracked and warped, it would never glide across the waves the same again...

-  See what I mean. CHEESEBALL. 

But in writing that 'fromage' I started to gain some perspective, and a control, over my perception. 

Instead of looking at everything as a sad sign of 'love lost'. I am going to look at everything as a sign of 'life gained'. 

Here's a great poem I saw on the cafe I was sitting in yesterday. I think I'll follow its advice:

Desiderata

Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even the dull and ignorant; they too have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter;
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. 

Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs; for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals;
and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself.
Especially, do not feign affection.
Neither be critical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself.

You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be,
and whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be careful. Strive to be happy.

© Max Ehrmann 1927

  

Be Good To Yourself,

Jimmy

Not Quite A Surf Pro

The waves were small and the water, somewhat, calm tonight so Elliot, 'Palm Beach Surf God' 2004-2011 (I made that up, but he's that good),  took me out to surf.
Now, I've surfed once before in the cold, COLD, waters of Tofino, Vancouver Island, Canada. I got up on an outrageously large surf board then, I figured I could get up on the medium sized board today.
Let me just state this right now. Surfing is hard!

First of all ocean water never stops moving. Fact. Trying to balance on a board while paddling out into surf is not an easy feat. I admit, trying to sit up on the surf board to look as casual as Elliot while we searched for the perfect wave, I may have fell off a few times. Sucking in enough salty sea, making me Gold Coast belching champion for the next 25 minutes. There were actually dolphins in the water a few meters from us. I didn't see them because I was too busy trying to balance on my flotation device/surf board. I bet they were laughing at me.

In addition to balance issues (Elliot assured me the balance eventually comes), my lower ribs were killing me. I am told that everyone's ribs and chest gets chaffed as it presses into the board. Once again, I was assured my body would get used to this. So far, surfing rated a three out of ten on the fun scale.

Knowing that I lacked the spotting and paddling skills to catch the perfect wave, Elliot basically pushed me into the wave, screaming out "paddle, paddle". The first wave caught me by surprise. It seemed to go on forever. Luckily, so did my effort to get up to my feet. Unfortunately I only got to my knees before the ride ended.  But, surfing (or whatever I was doing) just moved up to a strong six on the fun scale.
The next wave was mine. I popped up to me feet and actually rode the wave. There was no carving, flips, or showboating. And, although I looked like this:

I felt like this:

 (special thanks to Stuey 'Bloody Elbows' Spence for capturing a few less than flattering photos of my adventure)


I managed to get up a couple more times. But as the daylight dimmed, and a menacing storm moved in from the south, surfing started losing it's appeal. And I started thinking of things like shark attacks (more attacks happen when it gets dark) and lighting and high winds zapping me and blowing out to sea.

We walked out of the water just in time. The wind picked up, catching the board I was holding, forcing me to walk in a sideways/forward motion toward home. 
The storm actually missed the Gold Coast, but the Sunshine Coast got whipped with wind, tearing off roofs and sent people running for cover.

As a victory, or perhaps a survival, celebration, Elliot bought us pizza and even let me watch a full episode of The Big Bang Theory, which he thinks is the worst show on TV (Enter your votes now).

Lessons learned from today you ask?

1) Surfing is damn hard to learn (at least my tail bone isn't killing me like when I learned to snowboard)
2) Elliot is a good friend and a patient instructor. (I'll get you a good price on lessons in you're ever in the Gold Coast area)
3) Dragon's Breath Pizza gives me tremendous gas, and may be the reason Elliot left his place a half hour ago, without notice, to go visit his brother in the apartment below.
Pictured below is Elliot's brother Xavier (or Xav or X - I'm actually not sure what his given name is).

                                            In this photo I'd like to refer to him as 'Surf Jesus'

Jimmy

Seeing the Gold For the Coast

I have lived on the Gold Coast for one week and have come up with one word to describe the people who live here: 'Spoiled'. Surrounded by beach, blue surf, beautiful people, and enveloped by a sun that kisses the skin. (unfortunately for my pasty skin, the sun's wearing bright red lipstick when she kisses me). The long term residents of Australia's Gold Coast take for granted the natural beauty and abundance of activities around them, seeking out new destinations to basically do the exact same thing they could be doing at home. Hence, why we are driving 45 minutes into NSW's to surf Byron Bay.
Now don't get me wrong, the place is beautiful. But if I walk out of Elliot's apartment in Palm Beach and take a right down 25th ave, and walk 30 meters I can get to almost the exact same beauty.
Your mission today, of you choose to accept it, is to step out of your comfort (boring) space and take a look around you. Appreciate where you are and take a stay-cation.
That being said, I moved thousands of miles from Canada to Australia and have discovered one of the most beautiful countries in the world.
I take it back, screw my lesson. See you in Byron Bay.

Cheers,
Jimmy