Consequences

I've been thinking about Elliot recently
Or perhaps, more correctly, about the events surrounding that time.
Elliot stuck his head into a gas oven when he was twenty, or maybe twenty-one.
Of course it was all over a girl; a girl who dropped him.
All because he was never enough; or so he thought.

I went to his funeral; we all did.
Tags, Tim, and many of those who worked with him at the ODT.
They played Genesis; I still cant listen to "In it too Deep", or "Throwing it all away" without being teleported back to that time and space.
There was an open casket; baptism by fire, my first funeral without family. People touched him; said "Goodbye Mate"; stuff like that. I didn't know what to say really; mumbled goodbye. Wasn't sure what to feel.

Thinking about it now I realize what an arsehole he was.
I wonder, what possessed me back then to think that giving it all away over a girl was romantic in some way?
I now put those feelings down to being twenty; being twenty lasted a while with me. Truth is, part of me will always be twenty.

Debbie was there too; outside the funeral home. I went to school with her; she was one of the cool kids: we never really talked.
I was looking at my feet; we all were - this was all our first funeral - we didn't know what to say.
I looked up at Debbie - she was a mess. Two friends were holding her up.
Our eyes met and locked. She was 8 meters away, but it might as well have been 8 miles. I didn't know what to say.
She howled, as if I had accused her of all this. She turned from me, sagged on her friends shoulders as they led her away. I always feel I let her down; she was left to pick up the pieces, while I just went back to work.

If I wasn't twenty I would have done something. I would have walked up to her; bridged the chasm of cliques, and hugged her, told here it wasn't her fault: if I wasn't twenty.

Elliot may have taken his life; but he had no right to take hers as well.
But like I said - he was an arsehole. You have to think of the consequences.

I have; ever since.

The Big Sleep

Disclaimer:

I think it's fair to say that things have been stressful of late. There's been a lot going on.
All that aside, I must admit I smiled when IG rang the other night (out of the blue) to check up on me. [Although I'm sure Shars had some part to play in it]

But let's be clear here - I'm absolutely fine.

One of the problems with being more honest on this blog, is that too many people who drop by know me; and that is entirely my fault. When I started writing this blog, it was a method of keeping in touch with friends and family. As time rolled on I wanted more from this space, and in some ways I've achieved this; but still, every now and again, I have to remember to pull back from the abyss, and moderate my comments, lest the phone calls start!

Post starts here:

When I didn't do so well in my second year at Otago University back in 1985 I pretty much slept for 24 hours - I remember this, as I remember too many things from my life past. My brain is thus full of rubbish - memories stored solidly, refusing to budge.
What I learnt from that second year, was that I really didn't have a future at University. Although that memory still comes back to haunt me on a semi annual basis, I realise now that things pretty much sorted themselves out for the best; at least with respect to my career.

So - my career aside, the lesson I'm trying to learn right now, is that you cannot change the past. You'd think that this would be a simple lesson to learn - but I think my desire for something to be different just keeps getting in the way of the way things are.
Why get do I get so angry at something I can't obviously change?
I guess it's because I was there once, and should have done much more, when in actuality I did so much less.
And if you have any idea exactly what I'm talking about - then you shouldn't be reading this post - it's private :)

I have to find a way though this, and undoubtedly I will. But it's going to take a lot more time, and even after last weekends effort, a hell of a lot more sleep.
I will beat this, mainly because the only other option is a lifetime of regret - and I wont buy in to that mess, even for a supreme lack of effort fifteen years ago. :)

Wind of change

This week I feel a wind of change. Perhaps decisions somewhere have been made - it's not clear - things just feel different. An overactive sixth or possible tenth sense - I've lost count. I try and tell myself it's not a bad thing, or that perhaps it's all in my head. Normal service will resume after a period of acclimation, or realisation - whatever comes first.

In the meantime....

I've always loved Peter Frampton- in the early eighties Frampton Comes Alive was a staple for me on our family record player.

The sweetest fragrance, it brings a wind of change.
I feel it's now or die.
I have itchy fingers and butterflies are strange;
You know that I live a lie.

Sapphires aren't enough to buy me happiness.
Diamonds don't demand me, they're just for looking,
Love comes close to wrecking all you have to give;
God knows, there's so much to give

Unfortunately there was nothing on Youtube to post, but there was another song with the same name that reminded me of my tour through Europe many years ago, so in lieu of something better, that will have to do.

Regrets

Why I should have never let this one get away....
Texting at 8:10 am this morning, after a particularly nasty start to my Monday morning....


Me: Sands - Is it totally OK to kill a sub-contractor? Please - I really need this

NFG: Absolutely baby.