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- Written by Garry
Last week I said something I thought I would never say.
It all started with a series of tickets. First was a concert ticket; I had to get out to the concert venue in Baulkham Hills to see the Newsboys in concert. My navigational theory took me as far as Parramatta station, after which I was supposed to catch a bus.
Next was my train ticket; I usually just zip around the city on a weekly ticket, and this day was no exception. Well… no exception but for the fact that Parramatta is two zones outside the coverage of my ticket’s designated area. I realised the problem only after I got off the train at Parramatta. I fronted up to the Cityrail station master and asked if I could by a ticket retrospectively (I’ve done this plenty of times in Brisbane under similar circumstances (apart from the concert, that is )).
The short answer was no, and that if I’d come all the way to Parramatta with no valid fare, then he was forced by Cityrail procedure to issue me with a fine, and I could appeal it with the council if I wished. My opinion of this pronouncement must have shown quite clearly on my face, as he quickly changed his mind and let me through to buy my ticket retrospectively. He really was a nice guy after all, just doing what his procedure told him to.
After that, my navigational theory started looking a bit thin on the ground. I knew I was supposed to catch a bus, but I didn’t know which one, or even where the bus station was. I found a helpful bus driver taking a break and asked him if there were any busses through to Baulkham Hills.
“Why yes, my friend,” he answered, “there are many. Where is it that you want to go?”
It was at this moment that the unthinkable escaped my lips:
“I… I want to get to Hillsong Convention Centre”.
“Well, in that case you want to take a T62 from bus stand 4. It takes very snakey route through the suburbs, but after it comes onto the main road, it comes through a roundabout and the Hillsong is right there.
“I guess it’s a whopping great convention centre – I should be able to spot it okay right?”
“Oh yes, my friend, it is very large indeed. Many people go there.”
“Yeah… so I’ve heard.”
Despite a heavier-than-necessary hailstorm I managed to get there okay, and the concert was fantastic. Whether you like their music or not, I defy anyone not to be impressed by a Newsboys concert. Peter Furler can engage with a crowd like no other performer I’ve seen. HCC was, in the end, a fairly rubbish concert venue (it would make for an excellent convention venue, mind you) but it didn’t stop us all having a great time.
Interestingly, Hillsong is also a very difficult place to leave. Physically that is. If you don’t have a car, and the busses aren’t running (the last one runs at about half past seven) then you’re kind of stuck there. The Baulkham Hills centre is built right in the middle of suburbia, no where near anything really. In the end I managed to hail a taxi for a lift to the nearest train station – about twenty minutes away by car.
“Do you work at the convention centre?” asked the taxi driver.
“No, I was just there for a concert.”
“Ah. There are a lot of people who come and go to this place.”
“Yeah… so I’ve heard.”
Far from home
Garry with 2 Rs
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I bought a block of chocolate earlier this week. When I took the foil wrapper off, I was amazed to discover a second layer of foil inside it. Can you believe it? A chocolate block that had been wrapped in two layers of foil. Incredible!
Also making news this week: I've secured a new unit to move into. I'll be living in a two bedroom flat with a mate from uni and moving from the north shore to Sydney's inner-west. It won't be as convenient as living in walking distance from work has been, but the 50% reduction in rent is enough to make it well worth it! I'll send out a spam with my new postal address. If you know me and don't get one, drop me a comment and I'll fill you in.
Our rebranded and relaunched bible studies are starting next week. We're going through 1 Corinthians, which is going to be terrific (It's my favourite book).
We played a simultaneous chess match at our club the other night with a guy who came equal fifth in the national chess championships. He played 15 of us at once, and came away with 14 wins and a draw. It would have to be the most ironic stat in the history of chess that the guy he drew with was me. That won't stop me gloating about it though. I'm considering having a t-shirt made.
I think I'm going to learn sign language starting in May.
Far from home
Garry with 2 Rs
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I sent an email to a work source today. I received an automatic reply asking me to verify the fact that I was "a real live human being and not a spam source" (direct quote). I felt quite confused by the fact that my personal existence was being questioned by an automated response. I wanted to reply with something like: "Why do you care whether I exist when you yourself do not?" but I realised this would come dangerously close to crossing the line from talking to myself to emailing myself.
Furthermore, it happens to be true that the anti-spam auto reply was about the most polite entity (real or otherwise) that I've dealt with today. I'm working with three different languages, all of which require me to recruit some native speakers by the end of the week. I've got leads on all of them, and I've been calling and emailing and leaving messages for people all day for the last week and a half, and I'm fed up. One was scheduled to come in this afternoon and didn't even bother to show up, and won't answer her phone. I don't mind people not wanting to help me, but they could at least have the courtesy to reply and say "no thank you," or "unfortunately I am not able to do the thing I said I would do this week". At this point I would accept and SMS saying "shove it". It would be better than ignoring me completely.
At least the anti-spam filter cares. I think I'm going to send her some flowers.
Far from home
Garry with 2 Rs
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It's been a while since my last post. This is due largely to me waiting until something momentous happens that inspires me to write about it. There has been a bit going on for me lately, but nothing that has had that… that… 'je ne sais quoi' (pardon my French) that makes my blog amongst the most pretentious on the internet.
Having only recently recovered from my latest interstate wedding trip, I felt the time was right, as one of the last remaining single men in the country, to provide what I hope will be a logical, culturally sensitive, sober and universally acceptable account of the whole 'wedding' production from the point of view of a non-participant. Regular readers will of course realise that the chances of me assuming any of the aforementioned characteristics, let alone all of them at once, are fairly slim.
Weddings are really really stupid (...hic...). I'm not saying this with any specific reference to the last one I attended (which was comparatively nice), but rather as a denouncement of the cultural phenomenon of weddings in general.
I should probably make the point here before I really get into full denouncing mode that I am distinguishing 'weddings' from 'marriages' here. 'Marriage' is a great idea; a holy union twixt bla bla bla. Weddings, on the other hand, are almost enough to make the work I'm supposed to be doing instead of writing this look enticing. Almost.
I can accept that it's appropriate to mark the joyous moment with a certain amount of ceremony and celebration. I don't accept that it's necessary or desirable to mark the moment with a large degree of exertion and stress. I haven't been privy to a wedding yet that didn't involve at least three days of complete madness, running around to ensure a 40 minute ceremony can be performed without a single problem. Not that they ever are.
At this point photographers, dressmakers, florists, chefs, venue owners and old ladies in floral dresses who appear out of nowhere will be making the argument that it is all worth it to make sure the happy couple have a perfect day, and that everything goes exactly the way they want it to. Forgive my cynicism, but if everything went just the way the happy couple wanted it to, wouldn't we just skip the stress and cut straight to the honeymoon? It seems to me that most of what goes on at weddings happen in spite of what the couple wants, not because of it.
It was shrewdly observed by an onlooker at a recent wedding that in fact the wedding ceremony is not for the couple, but rather for the couple's mothers. I'm not sure why couples' mothers find it such a joy/necessity to tear their hair out over the ceremony and reception, although I suppose it may serve to distract them from the fact that their son/daughter is about to get married. Perhaps sagely fathers-of-the-bride in time immemorial designed the wedding ceremony in order to give mothers-of-the-bride something to do instead of fretting enough to give themselves stomach ulcers.
I recently heard a sermon preached on Psalm 45, which is a royal wedding song. The first verse says "My heart is stirred by a noble theme". The preacher remarked on the contrast between the psalmist's attitude towards weddings and the typical Australian attitude. I couldn't agree more.
Far from home
Garry with 2 Rs
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This has been Garry's week for fellowship meals. My current total stands at three for the week, and it's only Saturday night. If you count supper after church tomorrow night I'll hit four.Firstly, for those not up on the jargon, when Christians get together socially without actually intending to do anything spiritual or religious, we like to call it a fellowship meal, to make it sound like something spiritual or religious. "We're going to get together for a fellowship meal" sounds so much more righteous than "we're going to hang out and eat some chicken". Pretentious? Maybe. But it's music to the ears of a young single church goer who can't cook.