Twenty minutes to go till the end of my shift and I have been told to relax for 2omins. So I thought I would blog. It has been a good day here at the Big Issue office. I feel happy to have found myself back in the world of homelessness Australia. Not that homelessness makes me happy but given it exist I like to be involved in helping those who are affected by it. After stocking up the distribution points this morning I found myself making phonecalls for one of our vendors who is hearing impaired and in need of accommodation. The shoe string of disappointing phone calls. “Sorry we are full for the night,” eventually ended with a room in the inn. Yay. Not that it is permanent but it is one less night in the rain. I am pleased to say he does have his name on the department of housing list. So many people get disillusioned with the waiting list they don’t even put there name down.

The other interesting thing about my day is that The Big Issue’s street soccer program are looking to start up a team in Alice Springs. However, they have been struggling to find a connection there. Anyway I had happened to mention to Eduardo (who is from Chile and runs street soccer Sydney) that my Peruvian brother in law lives in Alice. He put two and two together and figured he must play soccer. And there you have it. A connection. Today he asked me if he could contact Martin and after checking with Martin I gave him the contact details. I find this all rather exciting. Street Soccer is international and hold a massive World Cup event every year and players from all over Australia get to try out. The Northern Territory really should be in the mix.

I have decided Iphone people really are in a league of their own. People had alluded me to this fact but I still thought ”it’s just a phone.” Until last night when I overheard my boss talking and he wasn’t like “I just dropped my phone down the toilet,” (a phrase I have heard a lot). He was like “I just dropped my IPHONE down the toilet” Yeah that would have to be more annoying than dropping my Nokia down the toilet.

After 7 years of driving I am finally off my P’s. Good one. It felt great to pass the test after failing pretty bad the first time but then they hit me with the bill and that was less great. Licences are expensive. It was $47 to do the test, then $113 to get a 3year permit to drive. My photo is a bit of a shocker which annoys me because the previous one was actually nice. My dreads look cool but my face looks really weird. My eyes are popping out of my head and my mouth looks like a very unhappy duck. They have just changed the rules and you are not allowed to smile in the photos anymore. So here is the disappointing thing. The look I was going for was laughing eyes with straight mouth. Instead I ended up looking like a duck with a drug habit?

These were my general musings after rewatching Fight Club. I am putting this one up because I was reminded of it in a conversation I was having with Jo this morning about the comforts of the West and the possibility that they have detrimental effects on our mental health. 

We are spoilt in the West with a comfort that goes beyond all who have lived before us. I am grateful but sometimes doubtful of what we just assume to be good for us. My question, Tyler’s question - does comfort make us weak? Like my comfortable bed that holds me morning after morning in inertia, does this world of ours swallow us. A click of a button, a swipe of a card and we are fed, fed, fed with all kinds of entertainment. Does it cloud our vision of who we truly are? If there actually is a “truly are” beyond all we see around us? Is that the spiritual war? Is that why despite all our luxury we all get so depressed? My religion is shoes I was told by a man of Friday night. At the time I laughed but now I want to scream. Do your shoes make you a better person? Do they quench that longing inside you to grab hold of the divine, to embrace eternity as if it were now? I wish I had have asked him. He probably would have said yes.

I went to Melbourne. Found my old writing group diary. I used to write poetry. I wish i still wrote poetry.

Another time, another world,

another boy, another girl.

 Hidden times, hidden spaces,

down alley ways, their darkened faces.

Forbidden love in every city,

but nothing said explicitly.

No one free to pick and choose,

everything was arranged for you.

You walked down the aisle in your pretty dress,

and smiled and the man to be,

and wished that he was someone else.

The one that you met secretly.

I went to a church today in South Turramurra. Tom Henderson Brooks was preaching and he said some inoffensive enough stuff about sowing in tears and reaping in joy. It was a bit serendipitous actually because I had been saying to Jane before we got there that I used to kind of unconciously believe that I must avoid pain and pursue happiness but now I don’t think life is about happiness at all. Happiness can be waves but it can never be an ocean. Anyway his sowing in tears bit really covered that. Jane and I were late and sat outside the church for the sermon. I would have walked in during it but she didn’t want to be a distraction.  In the end it was fine. We could hear what was said through speakers and being outside we could comment on what he was saying. Mostly we just said we agree with him. There were no moments of thinking or saying I think that is a load of frickin bullshit.

After the service we waited around to talk to Tom, but we were not the only people vying for his attention. Jane had to leave before we got to talk, but I hung in there and finally I got to meet the man who played a significant role in the birthing of “Rough Edges.” We had a great chat about lots of things. He talked to me about his decision to take the job in suburban South Turramurra and I talked a bit about my life. We talked a lot about church and wanting to, quote, “go to the church that follows the man who buys birthday cakes for sex workers.” That quote has a long story attached to it that I won’t go into now, but many of you know the story.

I also met some other lovely people. Everyone kept telling me that I should go to the evening service. Apparently there are lots of young women there that I would get along with really well. Part of me wanted to tell them that on the whole I find relationships with young women difficult and that I get on really well with people who are a bit strange but instead I thanked them and we got on with talking about other things. I might try the evening service. Tom H.B. also told me I would like it.

Anyway in the end it was a positive experience and has left me a bit hopeful about finding a church I can visit so I can stay connected with the bit messed up but very important body of Christ.

I have been wanting to blog about the wedding/happy party because it was such a significant event for our community. But I don’t really know what to say about it beyond I had a really really lovely time. I was late which was annoying and after I arrived it took me a bit to get my head into it but during the prayers for Jo and Victor I realised the day wasn’t about me, it was about them and I realised I was so happy for them. They obviously both looked gorgeous being beautiful people but it is their inner beauty that shines most and what radiates is the love, respect and care they have for each other, their families and their friends. There is nowhere else in the world I would have rather been on that evening.

The Big Issue Christmas party went really well. Of course not all my salads got eaten but there was so much more to the party than the food. It was raining and the buses were on strike so Emma said to me “I doubt many people will show up.” But this was not correct. Plenty of people showed up. So there we all were crammed like Noah’s Ark into to the tiny office space. But you know how it is? When people are crammed in to small places they have to talk to each other. And some of the young ones were sitting on each other’s laps and being close. There was that wonderful buzz t to the room. It was good for me because I got to meet some more of the vendors. This is a good thing because knowing vendors is essential to vendor support work. Not to mention they were all really lovely and funny and they get a lot out of their Big Issue work. 

Anyway I was chatting to this one guy and he was like, ”I am sure I know you from somewhere,”

and I said “I don’t think so.”

And we chatted away and then I asked him “where do you sell?”

 and he said “Glebe Point Road is my pitch.” 

Ofcourse I was really excited because I remember how Mil used to tell me about her Big Issue vendor from Glebe Point Road.

 I said ”I think I know where you might know me from. I think my twin sister would buy the Big Issue off you every fortnight.” 

Then we were both excited at such a fun coincidence. This was a highlight for me but another highlight was when Peter gave his speech. Peter is the manager. He said some really great things among them “I know how it feels to get out there everyday.”

The  interesting thing about the Big Issue in Sydney is the manager, a long time ago, used to be a vendor. I think this is truly amazing. So often homeless people get treated by the services they access as once a homeless person always a homeless person. Despite all our good intentions we keep people in their place below us. For Peter to have the job of manager goes a long way in breaking down the us and them barriers in this work place.

I then hung out with Matt on Friday night after Bambino’s. He reckons his work Christmas party was better because they went to a fancy restaurant and had all their drinks paid for and got taken from the restaurant to a club in a stretch hummmer. Alright I admit that was probably pretty fun, but I think my humble Christmas party was fun too.

I volunteered to help cater for The Big Issue Christmas party. Today I have to cook four chickens, make salads, hummus and zucchini slice. Someone else is in charge of the ham, drinks and pudding. Anyway there are 4 uncooked chickens in our fridge which I am really not used to and last night all I could dream about was chickens. 

Talking about a vege cooking meat, last night I was cooking the mince at Bambino’s. Add the salt, add the pepper and add the garlic. I asked Mick if he would try it and his answer was ”do I have to.” So I drained the meat and let it cool for awhile. Now here is my confession, I decided I would try it just to make sure it was Ok. So I tried it and it really didn’t taste salty, in fact kind of sweet. So I decided to add more salt and as I was doing this realised when I was cooking the mince I had added sugar into the mince instead of salt. I was like crap. Dave is going to going to give me so much shit. So I added more pepper and more salt which really should have been done when it was cooking. I tried it again and this time I could taste the salt and then I wrapped it and put it in the fridge before Dave came in and decided to taste it (just to note people cook with sugar and meat all the time, it is not a complete disaster).

I feel in a bit of a dilemma. I have chosen not to eat meat, except for occassionally fish, but when you have to cook it for other people whether catering or working in pizza shop is there a need to taste it so you know what you are serving to people? I mean it was actually really lucky I decided to taste the mince last night given the salt/sugar predicament. At Urban Seed I cooked meat all the time but there was always someone else to taste it and say more salt, more herbs, you have added way too much chilli, add some lemon. It is not that I like eating it and I honestly don’t think it tastes good but most people really like meat and I like people and I seem to always end up cooking for them.

On Sunday we had our first book club. It was really great. 

I told Jane about 3 weeks ago when she was talking about her worry fast that “I don’t worry.” Now this is probably not the most true statement I have ever made. It is not that I am a big worrier and I do let most things wash over me. But there is something that does make me worry a bit. Whenever I organise anything I have this worry that it is going to be really bad and no one is going to show up and that if they do show up they will be really bored and wish they were somewhere else. Now the thing about worrying is it is quite irrational. The thing is when we worry like that we make the thing that we are organising about us, when really events have lives of their own that go well beyond the person who is organising it.  

Anyway the book club was really cool. Now I know most people would think there is nothing cool about a book club but they would have to be wrong. I mean really what is cooller than sitting around with some of your favourite people and talking about moments in books that are inspiring and challenging and relevant or just simply beautiful?