Competitions in life...

When I was just a lad, I spent a number of years singing in the choir at St Paul's Cathedral. On the wall in the choir-room, there was a giant board with everybody's name listed on it. At the top, was the head chorister, and at the bottom were the newbies. Each week, choristers would get a score on their performance. If they'd sung well, improved their singing, helped others out in the choir, they'd get a pass, credit, distinction or - the paragon of excellence - a double-distinction. These would correspond to a score, that affected their ranking. If somebody made too many mistakes in a given week, and just weren't trying enough, they'd get a "fail", and often drop down in the rankings. The choir even had its elite - the "Top Sixteen" who would perform at special events and functions.

Bear in mind that this was a choir - a musical ensemble - of 10 to 14 year old boys. It brought certain elements of stress and emotional trauma to what should have been a joyful, musical venture. However, there was also the expectation that the choir would provide quality performances on a daily basis - we sang in the cathedral for services six times a week. By rewarding excellence and punishing poor performance, it created a culture where we strove for improvement and perfection, which was reflected in our ranking within the mini-community that was the choir.

Moving on to high school - particularly, its final years - I was in an education system where our final mark that decided our future was not an empirical score based on how well we went, but rather a ranking - the Tertiary Entrance Rank - which told us where we stood in society in relation to every other graduate from that year. This embedded in us a culture where many aspects of life are a competition, and we need to learn how to be a contender.

Which brings me to my main point:

One of life's lessons seems to be that, in order to be successful, you need to be winning. I've been recently in a situation where I've been job hunting, and thus engaged in that competitive process. In this competition, there is literally no prize for second place. You get the job, you win. There are situations where the competition is limited, and I've easily become a contender. There are ways to bend the rules of the competition to your advantage - i.e. networking, getting your foot in the door through casual / temp work at the organisation. And then there is plain "cheating" - i.e. get your dad to hire you. It's still one of my career goals to gain a highly-sought-after position through a fair merit-based recruitment process, and unless I do that, I'm not winning. But to get to that point, I need to work hard. I need to build my range of skills, and establish a strong track record of quality and success in my professional work. Because it's not enough just to enjoy the work as it comes, and cruise along whilst the going's good. Or is it? I'll come back to that point.

Last night, I entered a swing dancing competition - the Australian Jitterbug Championships. I've been dancing lindy hop for a bit over two years now. I took classes quite intensively for the first year or so, and at least year's championships, I did moderately well in the beginner / midstream categories. This year was a completely different situation, though. I only recently started taking classes again, after a nine month hiatus overseas. Furthermore, I entered the Open Jack and Jill competition - one that I was unlikely to win because, frankly, I'm still very much a beginner in the scheme of things. I danced with three amazingly awesome dancers - all of whom made it to the finals - and for that experience I was grateful. However, the feeling of competing, and doing my best, and not making the cut, has still left me with a feeling of disappointment. I'm at a point where competition is pretty much the only reason to work hard at improving my dancing, and unless I win - or even make the finals - how can I ever truly know if I've improved? It's all well and good to rock the social dance floor, but it's exactly that - social. You're there to be pleasant to each other, and enjoy each other's dance for what it is - not what it should be. It's only in competition where people are truly judged for how good - or lacking - their skills are. Without that, where's the motivation to technically and aesthetically improve one's dancing? Or, again, is it enough just to enjoy it for what it is?

So, there seems to be three options in life. One is to work hard, improve, compete, keep working hard, keep improving, compete, and repeat with winning as the ultimate goal. The other is to not compete at all; take on a job / dance / craft and enjoy it for what it is, with no aspiration to perfect it, but simply have as a moderately-skilled feather in one's cap that you can pull out for social engagements. Or the third option is to move onto something else. I definitely feel like I'm at a crossroads here - I'm doing okay with my current life choices, but I'm not winning. I don't feel that working harder is getting me any closer - I know a number of people who work much harder than me in these areas, and only end up more frustrated.

So, I think it's time to start enjoying these things for what they are, and focus my serious energy in finding new battles to compete in.

Two months in...

Well, it's been two months since I touched down onto Australian soil. I thought it was time I made another video. So, this is my average morning routine, travelling to work.

Every morning, between stepping off the train at Glenferrie Station, and arriving at work, I walk past two travel agents, and every time I am distracted by the images and latest deals in the window. I wonder when I'll next be travelling overseas. As tempting as it is to make plans to take off again in December, once my current commitments are over, I also feel like I'm starting to get some momentum again, career-wise. In my current work, there are definitely moments where I feel like I am making some headway toward where I want to be, and, honestly, it's refreshing. It's here, in Melbourne, where those opportunities will grow, and as much as I'd like to travel more, and see more of the world, I'd rather take some time to build myself as a professional, so that I have something to offer to that world further down the track.




Or I could go overseas in December anyway. It's a crappy time to be job-hunting. ;)

One month back on the bike...

Before coming back, I'd read a little about the effects of reverse culture shock. I've seen it in friends who have returned to Melbourne after being away for extended periods of time. I dreaded it - the feeling of being tied back down to the banal everyday life that I once left behind; the feeling that all my previous experiences would be cancelled out by the act of returning back to where I started; the boredom of the familiar world, with nothing further to look forward to except settling down and being normal like everybody else, and desperately longing to fly away again.

The thought of having to go through this kinda scared me. Months before coming back, I desperately applied for heaps of jobs (not realising that they might want me sooner than I'd planned) just so that I would have something to keep me moving and progressing.

Well, I should be careful what I wish for. I returned to Melbourne on the 21st, with little idea what I was going to next. By Friday, I was getting a handover for a new full-time role starting the following Monday.

And it's been a full-on month.

It's definitely been the most challenging job I've taken on yet. Like pretty much every other library role I've worked in, I've been required to hit the ground running, and take ownership of everything before anybody notices that I might not entirely know what I'm doing yet. It's had its emotional highs and lows - the excitement of working with new technology and helping people in the library, and the lows of having a million things to do and feeling like there's not enough time to possibly get it all done.

And then add the fact that I'm doing this after nine months of occasional work (but mostly travel) and previously six months of part-time work.

But you know what? It feels good. Sure, I've almost burst into tears, pulled my hair out, considered quitting my job, and felt utterly perplexed at how I can possibly make it through all my work. On numerous occasions. It's been hard, but one month on, I'm pulling through and surviving. And I'm getting better at it. It feels like I'm learning to re-learn how to ride a bike, after not having ridden for years, and then being told that I have to compete in the Tour de France (see, I'm topical). 

I'll get that yellow jersey soon enough...

Return to Oz...

So, two weeks ago, I touched down at Coolangatta airport.

Initial reactions:
1. ZOMG I am back in Australia.
2. Everybody is really loud and rude.
3. Customer service is pretty awful.
4. Is it just me, or have things gotten more expensive?
5. *switch on tv* Why is Kyle Sandilands still a thing?

The next day I caught the bus and train to Brisbane. The bus arrived about 3 minutes before the train was due to leave from Robina station, so I rushed to the service counter, paid for a full-fare ticket to Fortitude Valley. The guy gave me a ticket, and told me to run because the train was about to leave and there wouldn't be another for half an hour.

So I ran, with backpack, suitcase, satchel and laptop bag in town, and just made it. Then I looked at the ticket. Although I'd paid full price, the guy had given me a concession ticket. The hour trip that ensued consisted of me thinking "ohcrapohcrapohcrapohcrap I hope no inspectors board the train..."

And then the inspectors boarded the train. They fined some people but never got around to checking my ticket. Then they got off at Roma Street. Then I anxiously awaited the possibility of being checked when leaving the station, but the attendant just gave it a casual glance and waved me through at Fortitude Valley.

Fortunately, the next few days were more relaxing. They consisted of:
1. Coffee and brunch at trendy hipster cafes in garages and warehouses.
2. Craft markets with all manner of cringeworthy t-shirts, fudge, and handmade ornaments.
3. Sunshine and long walks along the Brisbane River.
4. Wholemeal bread, vegemite, and vegetarian food.
5. A weekend of social swing dancing at the Brisbane Lindy Exchange.

And then, on Monday, I was back in Melbourne...

To be continued...

Last day in Tokyo...

So, I had one day left in Tokyo. It was a clear and sunny morning, so I decided to hire a bicycle and ride around the city, via the Tsukiji Fish Markets, Ginza, Shinjuku and Akihabara.

Along with the beautiful weather, I came to appreciate how flat Tokyo is - much like Osaka - which made for a pleasant day's riding about town.

And then, it was finally time to leave. It was a strange feeling, after almost nine months living in Japan. On one hand, it felt a little too soon, as there was still plenty that I hadn't seen yet. On the other hand, I was feeling the need to move on and get back into full-time work in the industry. It's been a memorable and challenging experience, in which I've learnt quite a bit about the world and about myself. However, I'm not getting any younger, and there's so much I need to contribute to the world.

It's scary, moving on, especially without a strong idea of what's coming next. Every time I try to control my fate, the throws something completely different in my lap. However, I'm trying to learn to be less indignant about not getting what I want, and opportunistic in making the most of what I have in front of me. It's a hard lesson, but I think I'm getting better at it.

So, on to the next adventure...

A Day in Disneyland

So, when planning our weekend in Tokyo, it was suggested that we spend a day in Tokyo Disneyland. I must confess that I baulked slightly at the idea, thinking that it seemed something of a waste when there was probably heaps of other cultural places that we could be visiting, and that it would be expensive and tacky and crap. However, I eventually decided to go anyway, figuring that in life there aren't that many opportunities to visit Disneyland, and that it'd be an experience either way.

I am so glad that we went. It totally lived up to the hype and delivered in almost every way. The parades were astonishing huge, energetic and full of joy. The rides were as diverse and interesting as they were thrilling - I didn't even mind waiting up to an hour for some of them. My only disappointment was that the day wasn't long enough to do everything!

From capsule hotel to capital city...

So, it was a weekend of firsts. On Friday afternoon, after work, we headed in to Osaka, and checked into a capsule hotel. I'd heard plenty about them, but had never experienced one and, to be honest, it was more comfortable than I expected. I was expecting something more cocoon-like, like out of the Matrix, and was surprised when it was big enough to stretch out in, and even sit up in. The television and alarm clock were a bonus, too. That said, I wouldn't want to be any taller - my feet were touching the curtain at the foot of the capsule.

Staying the night in Osaka meant that we could get an early start the next morning, jumping onto the Shinkansen to Tokyo. Again, I'd never been on the famous Japanese "Bullet Train", and it was a much more comfortable and swift journey than my Seishun-18 journey in late March.

Arriving in Tokyo a mere 2 hours and 33 minutes later, we took in some of the obligatory sights. Our hostel was in the shadow of the Tokyo Sky Tree, along with what could best be described as a giant golden turd. Given the available of lucky golden turd charms, it wouldn't surprise me if that was exactly what it was. We then headed off to the Yebisu beer museum, which unfortunately only provided tours (and beer sampling) in Japanese, but it was an otherwise very nice little museum. From Yebisu, we walked up to Shibuya, viewing the famous crossing, then through Harajuku, and finally to Shinjuku, for the Spring Jazz Festival, where we saw the evening out with some swing dancing.

Next: Tokyo Disneyland!!!!