Kinda Boring... BUT kinda important

Julian Assange is an Australian Journalist/Publisher/Activist/alleged cyber terrorist/media proclaimed whistle-blower.  He is in some hot water with the US for allegedly stealing and leaking government secrets. I haven't done enough research on him to know what I believe yet. All I have decided is he has the resume and appearance of a Bond villain.

Why?

I feel I should explain the reasoning behind my issues with posting Music on Mondays.  I don't get to listen to all that much new music as there is no access to Pandora outside the US. I guess it recognizes the foreign IP address and Pandora veto's any chance I could listen there.

My car radio would be the simplest option... had it not been stolen a few weeks back. Actually, I should rephrase that. The faceplate to my car's CD deck was stolen.  Apparently some jackass felt they could use it to hold down they're papers at work or maybe hold their door open in the summer heat. The point is they didn't steal the rest of my deck just the faceplate which one piece without the other is pretty much worthless. So congrats to the new owner of a blue doorstop. 

I should also mention my car issues don't stop there.  I've had to be rescued several times from 'flat' batteries. First was my first day of work at FreshWater Systems and well lets say I was slightly late.  The second time was after the conclusion of the opening series at Norwood Oval where the Bite games are held.  Luckily one pitcher had jumper 'leads' to get me 'boosted'.  The last time was after work I went to head home after a long day and again my engine wouldn't even attempt to turn over.  This time once I was rescued, we tried to push start it.  I pushed my car 4 laps down a backstreet while Dave Nicholas a friend teammate and coworker tried to start it but we got no more than a dissatisfying "A-rrrerrr".  Then we tried towing it, to no avail. Just when we had given up a guy from across a fence called over to us "You need some jumper leads?" Turns out the guy is a mechanic... And we had stopped in front of his shop. Pretty convenient actually.  

Lastly
Q: An Asian, an American, and an Aussie get out and look at their cars. Who's fault is it?

A: MINE!

Sitting at a red light listening to the breeze from my dysfunctional air conditioner and pray my car wouldn't overheat while idling (it does that too but I still love her) I started to daydream a little.  The light turns green. Cars go. I glance off. Cars stop. Bump. Well thats just how anyone wants to finish up their day of Christmas shopping.  We make the first left-- yes left is easiest here, try to follow along with the story.  The middle aged Aussie get out of his black Holden and says "Ah Just a slow one Heh?" the Asian looks at his front and back bumper and shrugs. I get out and look at my radiator and no, I didn't pop the hood first. So the Aussie says "Lucky for me and drives off" the Asian looks at the one small scuff on the front bumper and tells me its not a problem and drives off. I stand on the sidewalk look at the intersection where the bump happens and watch the traffic crush my grill-plate into smaller and smaller bits.  Looks like I know what I'm getting myself for Christmas. 

Aussie Music Monday #3

During one of my first weeks here I heard a lot about a band on their farewell tour. This band was regarded as an Australian treasure and I heard nothing but good things about the sound and feel. But I never heard they're songs. I didn't make it to the concert but now that I've heard them I really wish I had the chance. 

The band is Powderfinger which in itself is a good start to have a dark albeit simple band name. Equally impressive is that by simply typing 'POW' into Google(.com.au) the autofill suggests Powderfinger. I've chosen a few songs but I really don't think its enough.  The last few songs are featured on myspace page. 

Band Name: Powderfinger
Origin: Brisbane
Genre: Rock

Score: 9 Kangaroos and 6 Billbies and 1 King Brown

Burn Your Name

 

Sunsets

Sail The Wildest Stretch

Burn Your Name

All The Dreamers

A Fight About Money

http://www.myspace.com/powderfinger

Aussie Music Monday #2

This song by Birds of Tokyo has been great for me this week.  For anyone thinking, “Hey isn’t it Wednesday” might I recommend Cee Lo Green for you this week. Ok ok, just joking, th reason I am behind is because I have been worked pretty hard this week polishing concrete in random, however scenic, areas outside Adelaide.  Birds of Tokyo and their song Plans is just mellow enough to keep me sane after working 9 hours in the 90 plus degree heat we’re having here. 

Band: Birds of Tokyo

Origin: Perth, West Australia

Genre: Alternative

Sounds Like: Snow Patrol, Plain White Tees,Dashboard Confessional

Score: Five Kangaroos

Weekly Traditions

So I am restructuring my blog in an attempt to get some regularity in my posts. 

I have started and posted weekly topics.

Aussie Music Monday and Oz Word Wednesday. Any ideas for the other 5 days of the week would be appreciated and considered. 

Currently up for Friday is Photo Op Friday. 

Oz Word Wednesday (#1 Nov 17)

I'm going to keep this short and sweet.

This Wednesday's word is Sook


Sook

-noun: a weak and or cowardly person or being.

i.e. After striking out Tom became quite a sook.

Sookie
-verb: To pout or act in a lowly manner.


i.e. She got sookie when the pub closed early on her birthday.

Feel free to use these whenever you choose. I'm sure no one will understand you

Aussie Music Monday (# 1 Nov 15)

So for my first installment of my ongoing Aussie Music Monday. I'm going to throw out a few songs that are hot on the airwaves in South Australia right now.

The first is an Australian band called Short Stack.  I like their stuff its catchy but I'm not ashamed to listen to it in public, *cough*Willow Smith*cough*. Well, that is if I still had a radio--damn thieves.  But I digress.I love Planets but We Dance to a Different Disco, Honey isn't too bad either.

Band: Short Stack
Origin: New South Wales
Genre: Punk/Alt Rock


Similar to: Panic at the Disco,My Chemical Romance, The Killers

Planets

We Dance to a Different Disco, Honey

 Next is a song that, I must warn you, will most likely be stuck in your head until you die.  The song is I Like That. In simply typing the title the chorus is now streaming in my skull. Sa-weet, it was quiet up there anyway.  I'm not an expert on techno/ house/ electronic but I'll give it a shot. Sorry Riley for desecrating your genre. 

Band: Static Revenger & Richard Vission
Featuring: LUCIANA

Origin:USA, USA, UK
Genre: House/Techno/Electronic

Similar to: LMFAO, Benni Benassi
I Like That: Static Revenger & Richard Vission Feat LUCIANA

Lastly and you may hate me for this song. Is a house song. Its just too much to explain. If you listen long enough you will think you're riding in a Bentley top down with Papa Smurf and Hillary Clinton its that ridiculous.  I went through two packs of glow sticks in the first hour after hearing it. I warned you.


Group: Duck Sauce
Origin: The Moon (can you tell I'm serious about this)
Genre: House
Similar to: ??????


Duck Sauce: Barbra Streisand

Bucket List

As an eventful evening with the Young family wound down tonight we opted to watch 'The Bucket List'.  I have never seen the movie although I had prepared, and failed, a College Life Bucket List.  I have always felt that I have this foresight that is not granted to many people of my age.  I have always planned, goal-set, striven, accomplished, evaluated, revised and repeated.  While growing up my actions were always guided by how any decision fit into my goals.  As the oldest brother I also felt compelled to be a good role model.  Not to say I never made a poor choice, but I avoided some decisions that I feel most teens and collegiates make as part of the process of growing up.  However, in doing this I feel it has deprived my life of a certain spontaneity and inserted some sense of self consciousness I did not like.   Hence the abrupt change I have undertook the past few years. 
   I, myself do not have a tangible Bucket List.  My Bucket List is in the form of my adoption of a new self awareness.  I want my life to be an adventure. I like to think of my life as a story and I, as the author, hold the responsibility of writing a quality story.  I have always despised the average, the mediocre, and plain. I would rather undergo a epic disastrous failure of a day then to sit back and look at the day without having a story to tell.  I want to be able to sit down as the old man at the bar and tell some young fella about the days I spent playing baseball in Australia with Tom Brice and Quincy Latimore or maybe the time I vanished into Brazil, or maybe its something less monumental. Maybe its telling that same young man the story of when, due to of a misplaced wallet and a flat innertube, a friend and I found ourselves hitch hiking with one shoe and a wet satchel filled with empty beer on a windy road between no-where and who-knows-where. 
      The point is I don't have a scribed list, nor do I want one, telling me I wanted to do this specific thing.  My list consists of this one thing; I never want to miss out on my life and never do I want to look back and think, "Those were the days". In my opinion when a person feels the best days are behind them,they stop living and simply settle for an existence.  

Tele and Radio

One of the greatest things I've discovered in Australia is the media.  The Australian culture is very laid back in terms of restrictions.  This leads to a array of comedy that the US is not prepared to experience.  TV shows are held to similar standards during the day but after 9pm most of the restrictions are lifted. So profanity, and partial nudity are common.  During my first week here a network channel broadcast almost in entirety the movie Superbad complete with "Oh my god thats the coolest fucking story I have heard in my life!Can you tell it again,Do you have time?" and nipples on the front cover the convenience store's magazine.  I was surprised, but hardly offended. I noticed that the late night TV, which were all similar to Conan, Who's Line Is It Anyway and Saturday Night Live were allowed to swear at will and did not hold back verbal assaults on whomever they pleased.  I've seen billboards that read Hot as Hell? Job's a Bitch? I know this wouldn't fly in the States but it isn't cause for concern. 
     Currently there are two ongoing stories that I'm curious to find how they may unfold. The first is a serious as it is disgusting.  Joel Monaghan, a star South Australian  rugby player, has been caught in a situation that I'm sure has Tiger Woods feeling sorry for the guy.  Pictures surfaced on the net of Monaghan staging a sex act with the family dog. The picture was a result of a drunken party prank wherein Monaghan most definitely had a serious lapse in judgment and well- species. 
     The second story has been dubbed Gorillagate.  A local zoo has been accused of not having genuine animals, but in fact having people dressed up in animal suits.  A family has gone to the press and accused the zoo of having people in costumes not real gorillas.  In a stranger twist, the allegations are true.  Before you think that the Australia zoo's are frauds there is something to be explained.  The zoo agreed to let local radio hosts Himash and Andy test the new gorilla enclosure before the real gorillas arrived.  Throughout the day the two radio personalities testing became more and more, shall we say evolved. They began with normal wrestling and play but by the end of the day the "gorillas" were playing frisbee and racing remote control cars. 


http://www.smh.com.au/rugby-league/league-news/joel-monaghan-in-tears-after-quitting-the-raiders-20101109-17lff.html

http://www.safm.com.au/shows/hamishandandy

Aussie Baseball 2.0

At this point I think Beyonce would be jealous of my upgrade.  For my first few weeks, as some may have noticed, I haven’t spoken about baseball.  I was disappointed with my experience.  I felt I had flown across the largest body of water known to humanity for nothing more than monopoly money and funny accents.  Since my move to the Sturt baseball club I have not only been introduced to a new club, and gotten; a new home, new phone, new car, new city, new hair cut (ok that was prior to the change in club), but I have a new perspective. 

I’m drooling at the opportunity in front of me.  I’m surrounded by guys with baseball pedigree. My new roommate is a former professional basketball player who spent time in Seville and Barcelona in the European pro circuit. My new coach was in the big leagues for 8 weeks as a coach and spent time in the minors as a first basemen.  I’m developing a friendship with a guy who was described to me as “the most dominant pitcher in Australia”.  Now let’s step to the second degree of separation.  My aforementioned friends are close friends with Grant Balfour and Ryan Rowland-Smith two names that most definitely register with me.  They both pitch in the American League one is a dominant and volatile reliever for the Tampa Bay Rays the other a starter for the Seattle Mariners (yes they still play in the MLB American League).  One of my potential future roommates is Todd Gossage.  His dad is Hall of Famer Goose Gossage. I’ve held back the urge to tell him that my Dad has his Dad’s autograph; just in case we ever got into a ‘my dad could beat up your dad’ argument.  Our manager Pat Kelly is the proud owner of a World Series ring and I think they give everyone Olympic medals here because I’ve lost count how many guys I’ve met that own one. 

My new car is a 95 Ford Laser. Kind of a junker but gets the job done. I hate my new phone. But I love my new place. I’m living just a few hundred feet from the beach. On an apartment built on a series of pubs.  I can see bumper cars and a ferris wheel from our balcony and my roommate, Martin, isn’t expecting rent.  Today at my training for the State League team (a team I don’t expect to make at this point) I faced a guy throwing 90 and was pretty overmatched but it feels good to feel challenged.  When I left San Francisco, and all I was leaving when I left the states, this is what I expected on the other side of the Pacific. Maybe it will settle in; maybe it isn’t as great as it seems right now—but I doubt it. 

LeBron, I feel your pain

This June, video clips in every major news channel showed angry crowds feverishly protesting, up in arms and nearly rioting they engulfed the symbol of their loathe in flame.  The demonstration I'm speaking of wasn't any flag or holy text.  I'm talking about LeBron James jerseys. 

Anyone who follow sports heard, or saw firsthand, the LeBron James saga.  Every team with backloaded cash was vying for the chance to bring the King to rule their city. In a grab for the fading media spotlight (we only have twenty-four hours in a day and we still didn't know if Brett Favre would play this season) James, in a live televised press conference, announced "I will be taking my talents to South Beach." This move meant he would join forces with Dwayne Wade and newly acquired Chris Bosh.  Blah Blah everyone knows that story.  James was met with immediate and aggressive criticism. I didn't feel bad for James, not at the time.  I was very indifferent, to LeBron leaving his franchise and hometown for a chance to win because, well frankly they never brought in a suitable sidekick.  Yes, a whole city probably hates him and people that were once a "Witness" probably hope to witness  his private jet go the way of Buddy Holly.  Who cares, right?

Well now I do.  After arriving in Australia to play for the Rangers I was quite excited.  Four days and one practice later I was miserable.  The Rangers, as I was informed, were a Division 3 club with hopes of climbing to Division 1 by next season.  Enter my incorrect assumption.  My brother plays Division 3 football, the athletes are youthful, competitive, experienced and although they may not have the jaw dropping athleticism of the DI athlete they are phenomenal athletes and the facilities are accommodating if not excellent.  My first training was painful.  I felt as though I had not left America but I had arrived from Krypton and the Australian sun had made me a superhero.  I was on a different level.  My skills, athleticism but especially my understanding of the game surpassed the entire organization.  My teammates were either; new to baseball, old and broken down or lacking any knowledge of the sport.  I immediately and privately voiced my discontent to the club manager and president (we'll call him Bob for the sake of saving characters) and asked that the team consider finding me a home with a new Div 1 team. Normally I would have shelved my pride and enjoyed the opportunity for what it was.  However, Bob had agreed prior to my departure that if I was not happy I could be moved elsewhere.  After several weeks of the Rangers organization trying to convince me to stay with them I am now on the way out.  And I extent my sympathy to LeBron; homeboy I do not envy you.

Now I feel like an entire community wants to drive a stake through my heart. Admittedly most of the disdain is simply a product of my overactive imagination.  I have been the feature story in every baseball related news publication for two weeks prior to the news of my trade. I've been coaching two teams the 14U team and have taken ownership of my own senior club's practices.  Everyone wanted to meet me, chat with me and befriend me and why not I am a fairly likable guy.  Now I expect to see an angry mob carrying torches made from newspaper articles marching down my street.  The head coach asked that I do not attend training although I have yet to be traded and they have asserted "we value your knowledge as a coach even more so than your talent as a player". Then there is Bob.  The man once leading the charade of indulgences dinners and perks is now well less than pleased he could not persuade me to stay.  Bob decided to take a very public shot at me in the club newsletter and has repeatedly chose comment on my lack of loyalty and his disappointment in my failure to fulfill my obligation with the team. 

Well Lebron, I feel you. Let's start a weekly therapy group for people who left for greener pastures on the south beach. I'll eat up every word you have to say because, well hey-- at least Gawler isn't Cleveland and at least I didn't diss my team on national television. 

Culture Chemistry: Dilution and Osmosis

You never know what kind of conversation you will have while taking a casual BP session.  Back home a certain friend and infielder insisted you must think and talk about sex while hitting- as a means of clearing your mind.  Some people prefer to talk about the bar either the night prior or upcoming; others prefer not to talk at all.  I attempt to dabble in conversations depending on who I am hitting with. 

Osmosis:
While taking BP with my friend Mark we stumbled on the topic of 9/11.  I wasn't sure of the global depth of the attacks. I soon learned that even in Australia, halfway around the world, they underwent the same media dissection of the attack. He mentioned they covered the story on every channel for more than a week,as we did in the States.  He even went as far as to tastefully but not without bitterness of cliche assert "Some things you will always remember where you were when you heard... I remember where I was when Princess Di was killed and I remember the Trade Center attacks" I was slightly shocked, because I expected it to shape some of my world perspective but I had no idea I would reach the world in a similar fashion. 

Dilution:
After a Sunday afternoon weight room workout Mark and I (I was staying at his house for a few days this is not some sort of ongoing romance) I mention how I felt it was ironic that the gym I had been affiliated with before my trip to Australia was in fact Oz Fitness.  He was curious what exactly that meant and I explained how their marketing is based around the stereotype that Australians are fit athletic and overwhelmingly attractive.  He laughed and brought up one of the most interesting facts (I have not bothered to actually verify its validity).  Australia is the worlds second fattest nation and is closing the gap on the United States. 
As taken aback as I was by the destruction of that paradigm a new thought had entered my mind.  The move to Australia hadn't been all that much of a culture difference.  Drive down the road (on the left side of course) and you see McDonald's, KFC, Subway, and even the Burger King's twin brother Hungry Jack's; they had Gatorade, Powerade, Vitamin Water, but then again I'd be more surprised if I didn't see Coke and Pepsi products.
This epiphany led me to another one.  I wasn't overwhelmed by the differences in dialect.  Sure they had a strong accent, but so do citizens of Chicago and Minnesota.  I was expecting on arrival to hear words that I didn't understand in every sentence and for the culture to be more difficult to track.  Perhaps a certain Dr Braa would be proud that I even took time to realize the influence of Americanism through business and entertainment (most mainstream American TV is featured in Australia) on the Australian culture. 

Or maybe he'd wonder why I'm spending so much time thinking about culture and not about why I am getting jammed on pitches to the inner half of the plate.  Guess I better start thinking more about sex. Thanks ER, you're a genius

Aussie Rules

One of the first cultural differences I've been presented with was the version of football played in Australia.  Aussie rules football is a combination of soccer, and ultimate frisbee rules with scoring very similar to PAT's in American football or gridiron as its is classified here. 

The ball, or footy, is a red version of a rugby ball.  Points are scored by kicking the footy through two sets of posts six points for goals through the inside set and one for 'behind' the outside posts.  The remaining rules are to complicated to explain but let me assure you its entertaining to say the least. 

Atmosphere at the ASNFL Grand Final was electric. The Central District Bulldogs faced off against the Norwood Redlegs.  The Bulldogs or Doggies, as I was instructed they be called, had suffered a long drought to start their history dating back more than fifty years.  However their recent history includes 8 premierships in the last decade; a resume that would earn an American organization the fitting title of "dynasty".

The match was incredible. The wind played a huge factor as it was blowing directly from the east to west goal.  Centrals went up by twenty; only to fall behind by 30 by half.  With the wind in favor of Central they managed to scratch ahead by fifteen and hold onto the win.  My host, Robert Laidlaw, who was an avid Bulldogs fan and member of the media was ecstatic and managed to grant us access to the club's victory party. 

The whole experience left me thinking about culture and how narrow societal views can be.  In America we are brought up on the NFL or gridiron rules of football.  Australians are brought up on their own rules.  Now it would be ridiculous to consider the way I learned growing up the better way or the right way.  It is more comfortable for me to watch the Seahawks play the Rams in an NFL game-but a better game?  Essentially this is my conclusion on religion and culture.  Too many people fail to step outside their own comfortable paradigms to consider perhaps they are missing the purpose of culture.  On the field, the rules are all that important but are simply a means for participants to pursue a defined goal a means to compete.  The essence of sport is to compete-to struggle.  Is this so different from secular or religious norms? The laws, scriptures, constructs, and beliefs we are taught may differ from other systems. But aren't these rules in place to organize our struggle to give life purpose? I vote yes

First Training aka Letdown

To start my club the Gawler Ranger's were not what I expected.  I didn't expect the intensity to match the tenacity of Jeremiah Robbin's baseball machine at Western Oregon but surely they would have some sense of the game.  I should have consulted Anon before making this assumption because I truly felt like an ass when I went through my first practice (or 'training' as my Aussie counterparts prefer to call it).  The coach dressed in Levi's and an old Cardinals jacket. The players wardrobe consisted of mostly shorts and soccer cleats; caps were apparently optional and the starting shortstop wore a gray wifebeater and a Monster energy drink cap.  I went about my business as usual, hustling, working to get behind fly balls in the outfield all the while trying to  attempting to keep my cool and not swear at teammates after every botched routine play.  I had two at bats, saw two pitches both I hit squarely to the right side. One was misplayed in the outfield and went for a triple and the other was a clean single.  I followed that with throwing to six hitters off the mound-nothing was hit out of the infield. 

Week One

After spending my first week in Gawler( yes pronounced the same as my freshmen dorm at Gonzaga) I've already had so many small adventures that I'm unsure if I can properly articulate each one suitably. 

I met my team (disappointed to say the least); partook in a Adelaide pub crawl with a few of the fellas, blokes, guys, ya whatever from the team; ran my first practice; watched the Grand Final for two different Footy leagues; arranged a tryout with the national club; attended a horse race; and drove my Aussie car.  I only hope that these adventures continue.

To the Land of Oz

To a bit of my own surprise I did make it to the airport and to an even greater surprise I was early.  Not surprisingly however my mother lost her composure while I was still dealing with the woman at the ticket counter.  After saying a quick goodbye to Tristan, my youngest brother I was given the option to let my mom have a pass to see me off to the gate. A decision, given hindsight, I may have considered thinking twice on.

My mom has always begins to sniffle and tear before I leave for any period of time; for this I have developed some level of tolerance. What I failed to anticipate was that my mom would leave a 15oz hand lotion container and large pocketknife in her purse.  When TSA questioned her she, met with the possibility of not being able to see me off to the gate as well as the embarrassment of the moment, began weeping uncontrollably inside security. I did my best assure her she would be able to take her things back to the car and still see me off.
Despite leaving me standing with a woman's purse in public and the awkward stare of everyone flying that day I managed to stay in good spirits. After what was probably a 7 dollar scone and a thirty minute wait I boarded my plane waving to my teary eyed mother.  This marked the beginning of my adventure.