The Guru Of Funky Slippers

I did it again.

2007-03-15T22:27:00.000+13:00

I have moved. I am now found here. Waka waka doo doo yeah.

Exhibition number 2

2007-01-23T16:08:00.000+13:00

Punk.

More emotional drivel.

These are the shep eating chez and crah kars with their fancy shuz on.

Ok so that's the last batch of drawings I'm putting up on here... probably. So now they're just using up space in my room. So if anyone wants them, let me know. Otherwise they will take a small and final trip to my bin.

Adios!

And this is how the Big Day Out 07 went...

2007-01-20T14:27:00.000+13:00

First we just started following the hoards of people. There were lots. Some may say too many. Then we started glowing. We glow sometimes. Look at that.

Anyway, we walked in and when all the people were together it looked something like this. I believe this is the time when The Killers had the stage. Good times.

We managed to find Voom in amongst them all. They were good. The lead singer happens to be my mother's godmother's son. Needless to say, we're pretty tight.

Look! It's My Chemical Romance! Jubilations! It's strange to think that this young man here could possibly be the most iconic face of the western teenage population at the moment. Go him.

Things got a bit scary when I realised I was surrounded on every side by emo kids, and directly behind a very small one with a VERY large backpack. So I ran away.

And found my girlfriend.

Due to legal reasons involving privacy of the subject pictured above, I am unable to allow this picture to remain visible on this blog. In other words, I was horribly threatened by her upon her discovery of this photo on here.

She was so happy to see me that she even came with me to go see the Mint Chicks. This made her even happier. The Mint Chicks know how to party.

Then Muse came on. I partied so hard that immeadiately after they finished I fell asleep.

And missed Tool. Possibly not such a good thing.

FAQs: Yes I did take lots of video too. Yes I really did fall asleep in Tool. Yes we really did glow. And yes I am aware that going to see My Chemical Romance in very uncool. Oh and yes I will update this blog more.

One September Morning on the 103rd Floor

2007-01-02T17:41:00.000+13:00

The skies were partly cloudy, the tempurature was 68 degrees, the wind was out of the west at 10 miles per hour. A beautiful day. At 8:45am, people working on the 103rd floor were pouring in their morning coffee, straightening their desks, reviewing their Tuesday appointments, bantering with office mates, glancing at the harbour...

On minute later none of that mattered. Twenty floors below, a 757 transected the building, leaving the 103rd cut off, trapped, hopeless. But not yet dead.

When you have ten minutes to live, what are your thoughts? What is important in the last seconds? As a tribute to those nameless faces staring down at us from the smokey inferno, can we stop what we are doing long enough to listen to them? Seeing death from this perspective is not morbid: on the contrary it can help us see life.

Those who found phones called - not their stockbrokers to check the latest ticker, not their hairstylest to cancel the afternoon's appointment, not even their insurance agents to check coverage levels. They called their spouses to say 'I love you' one last time, children to say 'You are precious', parents to say 'thank you' one last time. Through tears they called best friends, neighbours, pastors and priests and rabbis. 'I just want you to know what you mean to me'. And surely those standing on the brink of another world thought of God - of truth and eternity, judgement and redemption, grace and the gospel.

Imminent death has a commanding power to straighten life's priorities with a jolt. At such dramatic moments, people suddenly realise that priorities matter.

Tragically, however, chronic overloading obscures this truth. How we live influences how we die, and misplaced busyness leads to terminal regrets. If we don't move to establish and then guard that which matters most, the breathless pace of daily overload will overload will blind us to eternal priorities, until one day we too stand at such a window and look down. Perhaps with regret.

'If you attempt to talk to a dying man about sports or business, he is no longer interested. He now sees other things as more important. People who are dying recognise what we often forget, that we are standing on the brink of another world.'
- William Law

I stole John Toogood at the airport and shoved my camera in his face. And my brother helped me.

Oh and Happy New Year everybody.

If it hadn't been for Cotton Eyed Joe...

2006-12-13T03:00:00.000+13:00

After 10 months of working in a call centre, I feel like I've finally got something back (other than money). Here I was last night, just sitting at my desk ringing people to see if they wouldn't mind doing a half hour survey about mobile phone advertising, when I was handed this lovely contraption pictured above.

Yes that's right - my work gave us all Christmas presents. They're little cooler/picnic satchel type bags in a stylish blue and came with 3 cans of energy drink.

And they have drinks holders! Nuts.

So to be honest, no matter what anyone else buys me for Christmas, none will be able to better this bag.

That's not to discourage presents. At all. It's just at this moment in time I can't see how it would be possible to create an object superior to this one.

Now it's 3:27am and I am taking advantage of my holiday at disgusting levels.

If anyone would like to have a picnic with me and my new bag let me know.

Exhibition number 1

2006-11-30T00:57:00.001+13:00

Because my job is so brain numbing, often I just sit there and draw. Here a few drawings that have come into existence while dialling. I'm never more creative than when I should be doing something else.

I won 50 bucks at work for this drawing. I made it cute 'cause I knew girls would be judging the competition. Sucks to be the other guys that drew detailed pictures of landscapes.

My personal favourite. There is no explaination, I just thought he was a cool superhero idea.

Scary.

Girl on a hill. This picture is gay. I drew it yesterday and I hate it. It has flowers on it.

Emo teddy with cliche emo tag line. He's sad and cute and sitting by himself thinking about how nobody loves him and stuff.

Don't judge me for my drawings.

I am a zoo.

2006-11-19T23:03:00.000+13:00

Tiredness can happen at any time eg; after a day of surfing or tramping. Heading home, possibly driving into the late hot afternoon sun, the drivers eyelids begin to close. This can be cured by a sweet drink, an ice cream or some out of the vehicle exercise. Fatigue is more serious and can only be cured by sleep. You can't fight fatigue.

Research shows that after a person has been awake for 16 hours their bodies begin to require sleep.

A driver who has not slept for 17 hours has a similar cognitive performance and someone with a Blood Alchohol Count (BAC) of 50. Go without sleep for 24 hours and you're as dangerous as a person with a BAC of 100.

Fatigue affects your decision making by clouding your judgement and losing track of what is going on around you.

If you fall asleep behind the wheel, the likelihood of you dying is as high as if you had been drunk and much higher than if you haad had a heart attack becuase you can take counter measures like braking or swerving.

Stop to revive then drive.

The Cure:
- Start by having adequate sleep, if you keep short changing yourself you are building up a sleep deficit or overdraft.
- A twenty minute nap will be of benifit to an exhausted driver. A two hour nap is even more beneficial.
- After your nap splash your face with cold water.
- Always start your day with an adequate breakfast and mainain a reasonable intake of food throughout the day.
- Keep the vehicle's interior tempurature cooler rather than warmer and ensure adequate fresh air supply.
- Stop every hour or so on you journey and keep up your fluid and food intake.

When fatigue strikes, the only outcome is sleep, for how long is dependant on whether or not your vehicle was moving at the time.

I hope everyone had a safe weekend. My one nearly killed me.

I made you a cookie but I eated it.

2006-11-14T22:14:00.000+13:00

Tonight I was going to complain about my work.

I was going to tell you that I probably have the worst job in the world and should be paid far more than I am. I was going to go into all the nitty gritties of why it's bad, probably writing out a list that would go a little something like this:

1. I work for 3 1/2 hours sitting on my butt waiting to go home.

2. Whenever I go to use the hot chocolate machine on my break, the hot chocolate I look forward to from the start of my shift - it's always empty. And I get sad.

3. My job involves me being annoying and potentially ruining hundreds of people's nights per night.

4. I work over dinner time, which means I'm not only a nuisance for people trying to eat as a family, but it also means I get really really hungry.

5. I don't get to eat while interviewing.

6. Talking someone through a 25 minute survey on their opinions on the reputations of current insurance companies is not a great way to spend an evening.

7. I always have to sit next to some guy who's really enthusiastic and into the job and talks REALLY LOUDLY and who is also a know-it-all and likes to tell me how to do my job, and somehow misses the fact that I am better than him. In every way. I win hands down at life.

8. I have a really weak bladder so when I get stuck on a long survey with a droney old woman it can turn into an interesting ride...

9. ...I drink lots of water.

10. My supervisors think I'm a drunk. And I'm not. At all.

See, I was going to write all these not so nice things about my job and how frustrated I was and how badly I want to leave and get a job where I can talk to people without them having the opportunity to hang up on me... but tonight I finally got my first pay appraisal.

And now life isn't so bad. And all my supervisors said nice things in my appraisal too. So I found out that everyone in fact loves me. And I can do no wrong. So maybe I'll stay.

Oh, by the way, feel free to go read my good friend Rob's blog. He actually writes things that are wroth reading and have some significance in the scheme of things. That is all.

No, wait - you have to see this too.

10 points for Healtheries.

2006-11-11T18:20:00.000+13:00

These are milk biscuits. They are gross.

But they aren't as gross as this.

Which in turn, isn't as gross as this haircut.

Sometimes I get scared about the amount of talking I do without opening my mouth, or just being around the person I'm talking to. I mean, we have so many ways to communicate these days. I have my cell phone. I can talk to people anywhere through it, and can text at any time. Then I have the internet, which enables me to have text conversations with things like msn and emails - and other pointless activities like myspace. And then there's my blog, where I write rubbish for a whole heap of people to read. That way I'm not just communicating with people I know, but potentially a heck of a lot that I don't.

With all these communication aids that I'm armed with, surely I should be good at this communication buisness right? The truth is, sometimes I'm scared that I may be losing the art of conversation. It's easy to say what I want when I don't have the person face to face. You don't have to be on your toes when you're talking via msn. But when it's just you, and another person - how interesting are you then? Does the absence of a screen expose your inability to find things to say?

I know of a few people that are the funniest and most entertaining people to talk to on the internet... but when it comes to the crunch, they're totally different. I don't want to be like that. I want this digital me to just be the clues to who I really am in person.

Maybe that's why I'm so boring these days - because I'm just so out of practice.

Talking to a person involves a lot more than conveying information from your mouth. In order to be good at it, you must employ the techniques of humour, sarcasm, appropriate seriousness, and most importantly, active listening.

People who can't maintain eye contact are a bit difficult to talk to as well. I put that down to lack of practice again. Although I have a problem with that when I get shy around a human of the female genre. I don't know why I just told you that.

On that note, children, be sure to spend time with your friends. Take time to meet up and spend time with people in person. In this day and age I'm sure that would mean a lot to anyone.

And that's the moral of today's story.

John Mayer: The photographic journey.

2006-11-06T15:10:00.000+13:00

Sometimes the striking resemblance scares me.

I stole this from John Mayer's blog.

2006-11-02T21:09:00.000+13:00

Imagine this:

You're on an airplane, sleeping with your head against the window, your heart set on being home this time three hours from now. All of a sudden, something goes very wrong. The plane stops moving across the air and instead starts falling through it. The lights are flickering and the movie is skipping. The plane dips hundreds of feet in seconds, and the yellow cups fall from the ceiling. They're a brighter shade of yellow than you remember, because unlike the demonstration, these cups have never been handled before. "Flight attendants take your seats now", you hear, the pilot's voice trembling over a cacophony of alert tones. You get that smell in the bridge of your nose like you've just been hit with a football. That's what the fear smells like. The plane is going down.

Four more drastic drops in under a minute. People are crying. For all the folklore about how your life flashes before your eyes, you're remarkably fixed on one vision - your parents. They're sleeping at this very moment, in a bedroom so quiet they can hear the clock in the kitchen. And you can see them, clear as can be. You wish you could see a playground or a first kiss, but all you can see is your parents sleeping. Huh. Well, that's that.

Several long minutes go by. Then, all at once, the lights come back on and the plane somehow rights itself. Some people cheer, but most people cry harder. The plane lands about an hour later, and as soon as you feel that touch down - hell, even when you were within 50 feet of the ground and could still technically survive a fall - you realize that however you brokered the deal between you and God worked; you've just been granted life in overtime.

Here's the question: what do you change? Whom do you call that you haven't spoken to in years? Whom do you realize has been toxic to your heart and drop with surprising ease? What trips do you cancel, and what trips do you book? What can't you be bothered with anymore? What's the new you like?

Think about that, and then ask one more question. Why not just change it all right now?

(Working on it...)

Final thoughts before leaving teenagehood.

2006-10-30T21:42:00.000+13:00

Firstly... holy crap!

This is scary stuff. Being a teenager is safe. It's cool. People understand you're immaturity because you're a teenager. It's a wonderful excuse.

It's ok to have a blog and talk about whatever I want because I'm a teenager. It's ok to be on Myspace because I'm a teenager. It's ok to still find toilet humour funny and own pop punk cd's because I'm a teenager. And then there's High School Musical...

Not anymore. I've got to find some more convincing excuses now.

I'm not ready to be 20. It's a bit of a milestone, and it makes me wonder how I've put that many years to use. Or lack thereof. I'm not keen to grow up but now it's dawning on me increasingly that I have to.

20. It's not unsual for people to be married at 20.

I feel like I need to change somehow. To become more of who I am, or who I was meant to be or something. As if I have any idea of what that is.

I know it's just an age, but being this old scares me. Inside I'm still an attention seeking little 10 year old with an imagination that's too big for anyone else to handle, and being twenty is freaky. I had never planned that far ahead.

In a few years, the entropy will kick in too. Not good.

The world has given me much. It has fed me, taught me, loved me, grown me and put up with me. I struggle to see what I have given back.

I went on a disabled camp the other weekend (just helping out). It taught me so much on more than one level. But mainly it was just brought to my attention how little of that kind of thing I have done. I wiped my first bum that wasn't my own and a few other things that I never thought I'd do and was pretty exhausted. But I get it so easy the rest of the time.

I actually did something that meant I was second and someone else was first, literally no matter what that meant. 20 years it took me to actually see that.

Hopefully the next 20 will be different.

After all, it's not about me at all.

So I bid my immaturity farewell forever. I will wake up tommorow as a responsible grown- up with a completely selfless attitude, seeking to benifit the world and not waste my time at all. I will never laugh at a poo joke again.

Won soong-i bo yo jo.

2006-10-24T22:32:00.000+13:00

I want to blog but I suck at it today.

All I really want to tell you is that I'm going go see John Mayer next weekend.

Life is sweet.

Butterflies and zebras and moonbeams

2006-10-17T16:10:00.000+13:00

Today I am blogging purely out of obligation.

I've decided that I am never going to show my blog to my kids. I'm probably the last person who should've ever started a blog.

I like to think of myself as a pretty open person, and I think sometimes people are open with me because of that - but let's face it, there is a point when you do share too much information. I have shared too much information on here.

My poor mother worries about me. She worries about the fact that I talk about ex-girlfriends, kissing with tongues (or without), exam papers gone wrong and putting pictures of my rear end on the internet. Most of all she worries that I don't seem to see the problem with it at all.

Well, I do. I can't bring myself to read the blog from last year. I can't read what I said about America on Independance Day, going through the 'holy crap I have no girlfriend' phase, album reviews, letters to Michael Jackson and endless rubbish about animals taking over the world. It's painful.

The only positive thing I can pull out of it is that I have evidence that I have in fact grown up since then.

With all that aside, I feel like spilling my guts some more today - so here is some depressing poetry you might appreciate.

Watch me as I burn and melt
Keeping my distance and hating the space
Trying to be patient in the grind of the wait
I catch your smile and I singe some more.

Somewhere in between the sadness and anger
Is the sweet fret that keeps me under
Knotted in secret, but sane on top
All because of that smile you flash
With no idea about the fever it commands

Mona Lisa behind the glass
The innocent spark
In my private room
Give me a moment to breathe
Before you push my head under again

I want to shout, but my words are tied
I have to contain all the ways I've tried
To catch that smile one more time
The jewel that defeats me
The grip that eats me
The flicker that beats me

So take your smile but not halfway
Hide it away
Or let it be mine.

Let's pull it together.

2006-10-12T17:07:00.000+13:00

Howdy.

It's always a good feeling when people dance to your music. Super happy funtimes when people get into what you play. I guess it's kind of a given when you're in a covers band.

Some nights are better than others though, and one time playing at a party, it took a while for everyone to warm up. In fact, people only really started getting into it in the last two songs. But there was one guy who was having a blast with our music the whole time.

This guy had downs syndrome and he was singing along louder than I was, boogying for about 3 hours straight. He just grooved away with us having a blast, keeping me grinning.

I get funny around people with down sydrome. Most of them are awesome people, and I think I could learn a lot from how uninhibited they are. But I never know what to do around them. Y'see I was once permanently emotionally scarred by someone with down syndrome.

It was back when I was a wee lad, about 8 years old at the time, perfectly innocent, with an imagination bigger than most. I didn't have many friends, just a little gang that I made up with two really strange little guys, called the 'Dodo gang'. We were pretty cool. Had an official Dodo gang dance and everything. Quite the crowd pleaser.

One day though, a young guy with downs syndrome, called David joined our class. Now I was little and didn't know anything and to be honest was kind of scared of him. I kept my distance because I didn't know what to do.

It just so happened that one day he decided to frame me. I was having the time of my life playing by myself on the monkey bars when this little obnoxious scottish girl marched up to me, and because of her ridiculous accent I couldn't work out what she was saying to me. I thought she asked 'Someone taught a little boy to swear, shall I go tell the teacher?' I think I said 'Sure, go for it!'. I soon found out later that what she had said was 'David said that you taught him how to swear, shall I go tell the teacher?'

Not good.

Despite my protesting that I didn't ever go near him, let alone know any swear words, the teachers insisted that I was never to go near him again, and I wasn't allowed to talk to him until I left that school.

Now really, that's not just in the slightest. Did this guy have it in for me because I didn't talk to him? Did he just want to be my friend and thought this was the best way to get my attention? Did he have a rotten sense of humour?

To this day it still makes me sad. I'm so misunderstood.

I ate a big red candle.

2006-10-08T19:00:00.000+13:00

I swear, at some stage in my life, I was actually good at blogging. I'm sure that once upon a time I had good stuff to talk about. Now all I really want to tell people about are things like my sexy 60's pants that I bought the other day. And I'm quite clearly the only one interested in that.

I think I'm turning into a boring person.

Reason 1: I went into the city to do some op shopping with this girl and she literally had to make an effort to have a conversation with me. I'm sure I never used to have that problem. She was quite happy talking about her life n all which I found pretty interesting - but I honestly had nothing exciting to say. She was asking me 'So what do you like? What do you do with your life? What are you into?'. I felt like a walking piece of cardboard. I was all like stuff... band stuff... anything to do with music... yep. I think in sheer desparation I resorted to sarcasm for some quick entertainment to make me sound like someone close to social.

Reason 2: I really am boring. I am a boring person. My blog is failing because of it. I am 19 going on 63. Really, what can I tell people about myself that is even semi interesting? I'm just a boring Bernard.

Reason 3: Myspace. It stealing precious moments from me. If all I do is myspace then I'm just a boring net junkie.

Reason 4: I'm not funny.

Reason 5: I write on a blog.

Reason 6: On my blog I write about being addicted to High School Musical.

Reason 7: I'm 19 and watching a Disney version of Grease.

Reason 8: Zac Efron is my idol.

Reason 9: I'm surrounded by people that are exciting, so I don't have to try, meaning I'm probably just really out of practise.

Reason 10: I'm constantly tired. This usually means I have no energy to have any form of a personality, and any shreds of one that I may actually have just come out in short grunts.

Reason 11: I work at a call centre where I'm very suspicious of my supervisors. I secretly think it's all just a facade and that they're actually sucking our souls out through our headsets and into a big personality fridge. I think I'm onto something, because everyone I work with is boring too. I don't know what they're going to do with that big personality fridge, or what the point of stealing our souls might be, it's a bit of an unfinished theory at the moment... but still a good one and rightfully valid.

Reason 12: I'm not foreign. Back in England I was semi-cool automatically just because I had an accent. Now I'm just a regular sheep.

Reason 13: I have a generic haircut.

Reason 14: I talk about my hair constantly.

Reason 15: I can't think of a 15th reason becuase it appears I'm just too boring.

Conclusion: I am boring.

Bet you didn't see that one coming.

The problem with all of it

2006-10-05T16:26:00.000+13:00

Y'no what? Who really cares about my unwished for individualism? Who really cares if I don't feel like anyone really 'gets' me or chooses to see me as I am, and not as I was.

It means nothing if there isn't anyone around with the same tastes as I have, into the same music as I'm into. It doesn't matter if people don't see life the same way, or see me as I see me (or at least who I want to be). None of that is important because all of that misses the point.

Life isn't about what music you listen to, no matter how big a part of your life it becomes (in my case, pretty huge). Life isn't about struggling with people's misconceptions of you that you feel restrained by. These issues are so trivial and stupid.

I am not defined by my cd's. Nor am I defined by the clothes I wear or the people I confide in. I am not defined by what church I go to or what course I am doing or what makes me tick. I am not defined by my past, even though it has made me who I am, and I am not defined even by the things I say. None of that will last.

When I'm taking my last breaths I don't want people to remember me as the Mars Volta fan who played guitar and sung in a band and dressed like a city boy. I don't want people to remember me for being cool because I listened to Hendrix and the Beatles and appreciated 'good' music. And I really don't want people to remember me as the guy who had a blog.

I want my life to count. I don't want to just have the story of my life, and the memory of it just fading with time. I want my story to fit into a bigger story that far outlives my lifetime.

The stuff I write on here is dumb and embarrassing. In a few months I will look back on this and cringe at how pedantic I was, and how far from the real issues the things I talked about were. The stuff I write are just snapshots, sometimes purely emotional and most of the times, far from objective.

And it frustrates me that for so much of the time I don't care about anything but myself and how I'm feeling. I just feel sorry for this poor little rich boy sitting behind his computer, listening to his stack of cd's through his stereo, eating whatever he wants with his car sitting outside, while he complains about nobody thinking the same way.

I don't need sympathy - I need help. We all need help.

You've got today - could life be any better?

Hakuna Matata

2006-09-24T19:46:00.000+12:00

Oh my goodness.

Now that the holidays are here at last, I actually have time to think. And my thoughts aren't dictated by my emotions all the time, because I'm not tired for the first time in about 10 weeks.

Now that I sit down and think about it, it's almost scary to see how much I've changed. I've been told by quite a few people that the years between 18 and 21 are one of the most significant times of change in people's lives. I guess that's pretty true when I look at myself.

I think I'm even noticeably different from a year ago. I don't think that any of the crew in England from last year would expect me to be the way I am now. Whether that's a good or bad thing, I really don't know.

This sort of thinking is always triggered when I meet an old friendfor the first tim in a long time, like I did yesterday. Times like that a really refreshing because each person goes into the meeting with an expectation of change, and so when they see it, it's not hard to adjust to. I met up with an old friend yesterday (who happened to be a hot chick from high school) and she immeadiately pointed out differences in me. I felt like hugging her and thanking her, but decided that would be too wierd as we both had crushes on eachother way back.

I guess I'm sort of finding myself at the moment, kind of discovering who I am more, working out the things that I'm into, and what sets me apart as an individual. I'm not pushing people away really, I'm just kind of going my own way for a bit. Sussing out what I really like.

I get the impression a lot that people don't really like the fact that this is happening. I often get frustrated when people expect the 'same old Sam' to be there all the time, and get annoyed/upset/angry when they discover I'm not. It's even worse when people just treat me like I am the same old Sam, and box me into this innaccurate preconception of who I actually am. They say things to indicate that they know the reasons that I do certain things, and like they still know me, when they quite clearly have not made the effort to see that I have changed. It makes it hard when they just won't accept that.

I guess because of this I've been so hungry to find people on a similar wavelength, that get me. And I'm struggling because the more I look around, the more convinced that there isn't actually anyone around me like that. No one who shares the same interests, who even looks on the world with the same sort of eyes. No one for me to bounce off and be myself around. Just a whole bunch of people who see me one way and that's good enough for them. I seem to be drawn to people who I feel are more like me, and at the same time, frustrated because I am constantly around those that just think they are.

I'm not complaining or anything, and I'm not saying this has got me down or anything, because it hasn't. I'm just trying to honestly express myself somehow. And I know it sounds moany and everything but I mean it. I just feel like there's a massive part of me a lot of the time that nobody can see, because they won't see it.

Comprende?

I need to tell you before I wet my pants

2006-09-21T21:40:00.000+12:00

I have just purchased tickets to go see the Mars Volta in December.

That is all.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Okay I may have just let a teeny bit out in the excitement of the moment...

Finding emo

2006-09-20T18:44:00.000+12:00

Haha... 'My head is a chamber of death' - never one to downplay anything...

I bet a lot of people can relate though. A lot of us have been in that lonely little place in our room at about 3am with an assignment half done and wanting to cry because you're such a crap person.

Problem with me though is that I have a sleep depravation tolerance on about par with a toddler. If I miss a bit of sleep I cannot cope. This causes heaps of problems and a lot of comments behind my back, usually along the lines of 'What a baby'(not babe) or 'Who would want to be that guy?' or 'He sucks but he's at least he's got sweet, sweet hair.'

That's not so man because I've got thick skin now. I've put up with a lot of bullying in my day. By the time I was 14, I was short,fat and had a dumb haircut. I remember people poking my stomach and saying things like 'Grab the flab' and then giggling, I would consequently go a dark shade of pink. One really original thing to do was to crouch down and say 'Hi, I'm Sam Burrows' in a really high voice, just to make sure I remembered I was short and in the pre-pubescant stage. Just in case I forgot.

At one stage I had two guys waiting outside the school canteen to beat me up every lunch time because I had a funny accent.

The worst one was when some guy in my maths lesson used to sit behind me and whip the back of my head with a piece of string. I used to go home and cry.

Nowadays people still laugh at me and call me fat and that gets me worried. In my last year of college I had all of my friends calling me 'fatty boy'. It was funny back then. But things have changed. Starting this weekend I'm going on a diet.

To all those people who think it's funny to pick on fat kids: I hope you're happy. You have finally pushed me over the edge. I hope you can forgive yourselves.

You fat friend

Fatty Boy (the fat kid)

3 topics in one post - not bad. Not bad at aaaallllll.

Cellar Door

2006-09-19T00:46:00.000+12:00

41 hours with only 2 1/2 hours sleep. This is almost suicide for me.

And to think I actually thought it would be funny to blog like this. Nope. It sure isn't. My head feels like it weighs twice as heavy and is stuffed full of cotton wool, and when ever I close my eyes it feels like my forehead is collapsing in on the rest of my face.

Right now nothing is funny. My head is a chamber of death.

I'm quite emotionally unstable too. I feel like crying with the prospect of having to get up in 6 hours.

Everything is like slow motion and it hurts to swallow. I'm sure people have died doing this in the past.

Crappy assignments. They get in the way of all the nothing that I want to do, and when I don't let them they just get in the way of my sleep.

It's certified now, all the ladies at work not only think I'm a drunk but a stoner. I don't find that funny.

I should not be blogging.

I thought it would be funny.

I was wrong.

Argh my head is screewwwwwwwwwwwed. Someone get my Vanessa Hudgens. Now.

jh2gbrffdvbdvrefvrghqwer34t';l'erj1bvede3frbgjkbgkjrgrgbrkbkjbwfebvgn

Bob Dylan!

Viscera eyes

2006-09-12T09:30:00.000+12:00

Wow. That's all I have to say about some of the comments you guys left me. Thanks a bunch. I kinda want to know who some of you are now, but it's almost better keeping it anonymous anyway. You made me smile a sweet, sweet smile.

In fact yesterday was pretty cool in general. Apart from finding out I've got a resubmission for uni for the first time (which was not so cool) I also won $50 at work for a picture I drew. They even framed it and stuck in on the wall.

What was even better was that they making a fuss over me all in front of the pretty new girl. Told you it was a good day.

I can't say I'm usually that enthused by my job these days, but that's ok because I'm paying the bills in other ways lately. It's a strange thing to get used to - getting payed for having fun, and that's exactly what's been happening with my band.

I don't think I've really written about my band yet, I've just stuck heaps of photos up. So, to do a bit of shameless self promotion, I happen to be in a covers band called 'Phat Mantis' at the moment. I'm the hot lead singer no less. We've been mates and playing together since the end of college and I think it's kinda come as a bit of a surprise to us to actually begin to do quite well.

We've only really started playing live this year since July and already we've got 2 balls under our belts (that means prom for our international readers), with a decent bunch of songs, being able to set our own prices. Not bad for a group of 6 slackers who were just doing it for fun.

We had a hoot on Saturday, playing at another ball. Paddy the bassist told the crowd that we have often been compared to the Beatles, then Mick the drummer had young girls shouting for him and I had some freaky girl just staring at me intensely the whole time. It was really wierd now that I think about it.

Haha, two balls under our belts. I know I shouldn't find that funny but I do.

I have no idea where this post is going. I'm sorry I've just kind of lost the plot. But you get the idea. All I'm really trying to say is this is my band, and we're awesome. That's about it.

And I still haven't gotten over Steve Irwin.

Wires to flying birds.

2006-09-09T12:32:00.000+12:00

I must be the most impatient person I know. And I know a lot of people (thanks to myspace) so that's a big deal.

Maybe you're right. I do need to just enjoy now, making the most of what I have right now. I always have my head in the clouds waiting for the next good thing to happen. Always looking ahead, semi disinterested with the present. Convinced something more is about to happen. And I don't mean just with girls either.

Lately I've been such a frustrated person. I'm not happy with what I've achieved so far, who I am at the moment. I'm so dissatisfied - I want more than ok. Like I'm stuck in this in- between period, knowing my passions are yet to come into being.

My mother tells me it's a season. My brain's telling me I'm running out of time. My testosterone is just telling me to hurry up. Ok, that's really not true but it sounds funny to me.

Time for emotional and ambiguous yet meaningful poetry:

I've got a mirror in my pocket
It's there to remind me
Of the many reasons I fell
And how I came to my end.

I'm looking for a dine and dash
Kind of salvation
A quick fix job to retrieve
All the blood I lost from the wound.

Will I ever shake this away?

I see a man's shape in the distance
He stands on a hilltop
Surrounded by a hazy glow
With His back to the sun

I stumble in the trail of His footprints
To sleep in His shadow
The carvings on my skin are burning
As my black is exposed.

I am in love

2006-09-06T21:26:00.000+12:00

To me, she is the new Katie Holmes. Now we alllllllll know how big that news is don't we?

No seriously, when is my girl gonna turn up and end 'the phase'? If it means anything, I'm in a band and I play guitar and sing - and I have sweet, sweet hair.

Oh c'mon if that doesn't sell me nothing will.

Holy rusted metal Batman! It's September!

2006-09-03T03:07:00.000+12:00

Good morning blog.

Shouldn't you be in bed?

Yes, that's true, 3:02am is never a good hour for me to be awake in.

Would you care to tell me why you're still awake?

Well, I stayed up to do my assignment for this degree thing, whatever it is, and I ended up just myspacing it.

Please tell me you're joking.

No, this guy wanted to add me as his myspace friend, so I accepted and then landed him a comment and it just went from there really.

You're an idiot. You have the tolerance for lack of sleep on about par with a ten year old. Plus you have work tommorow.

Yeah but because I work for a call centre I just sit there anyway.

I hope you're not forgetting that time when you fell asleep in the middle of an interview after pulling an all nighter.

Yeah, see the thing with that is my supervisor thought I had a hangover, and now thinks I'm a terrible drunk.
What a fantastic image for a good christian boy.

Yeah I better get to bed then.
You better.

Ciao.

I really like you.

2006-08-30T23:18:00.000+12:00

Blogger is quite the frustrating service these days.

I thought I would share some private information tonight. Starting Monday on a bad foot is never good. It screws me up for the week. I was on a bad foot on Monday morning because of a nightmare. It was horrible.

I dreamt on Sunday night that I was going to prison for murder. It was wierd, the way I remember it starting is by me eating peanut M 'n M's in a dirty flat and looking out the window to the ocean.

Que ambigious dream character!

My dream then turns into me explaining how it all happened to someone. Turns out I was a bit drunk and in my drunken confused state managed to find a machine gun somewhere and fired into the distance without thinking, killing a few people including 2 children. The rest of the dream seemed to go into hyper speed - becoming a montage of interrogations in a cop van and in court and eventually getting lead to prison, in a morbid, sorry state, fully accepting the fact that I was guilty and there was nothing I could do about it.

It wouldn't be so bad if the dream hadn't gone on and on and on... it just seemed to drag on forver until I think I must have fully convinced myself that I had killed children and was going to spend my life in prison. I remember being really gutted because I still had so much of my life ahead of me. In fact, it dragged on so long that I was actually completely believed it on.

In fact, it was pretty much a shock to wake up. Maybe it means something. I felt incredibly guilty for something I actually didn't really want to do. All you uni kids, help me out here.

This stuff you feed me every night tastes like crap, somehow you make sure that every day of my pitiful meaningless existence is the same repetitive drivel and I'm middle aged, yet you speak to me like I'm a pre- schooler. You ignorant moron.

Sometimes I think that's what my dog would say to me if she could speak.

Mc Sam Dawg Delux aka Yaw mama

2006-08-22T23:03:00.000+12:00

I'm pretty anal in regards to what music I like and sometimes so much so that my friends get annoyed with me now and then. It's not arrogance, it's just knowledge that my taste in music is always gonna be better than yours.

But luckily I'm a young man that likes to try new things too, to branch out and taste all the colours of the rainbow and experience the sides of life that I don't like do assosiate myself with. Ever.

Such as hip hop.

I have to say that there's not much I like about hip hop. It's possibly the most unoriginal form of 'music' on the globe. Not counting Outkast and N.E.R.D all you have is a bunch of black dudes (and one white guy) on steroids with gold teeth and plastic girls dancing around wearing postage stamps.

Yeah the world has nothing to thank hip hop for. Hail the genre that brought you meat sacks like Twista, Ice Cube, Fiddy Cent and the rest of dose gangstas wid summin to prove yo.

However, this year I decided that there can't be much to it. You stick on a drum track and talk about how your like the sweetest thing in the universe. So I became a rapper.

For a while I took it real seriously. I did my research - I listened to the Eminem show about 3 times through, downloaded part of 8 mile (woops) and even got my own backing drum tracks. I was set. Now I just needed to throw down some rhyme. So my pad of paper became my rhyme sheet and I was yeah I'm such a sweet rapper.

7 days later I gave up out of disgust of what I was becoming. I realised having emmersed myself in hip hop how much it truly repulses me. I can knock it becuase I have in fact tried it.

So you can all save yourselves the effort because I tried it all for you. I took one for the team.

Feel free to have a read of my sweet rhymes:

I’m too scared to take my fingers out of my ears
When I’m faced with the prospect of what I might hear
The millions of clones with their clones of their songs
Yet we give them the mic and we all sing along (hey!)
Oh darn, here we go again…
Another microphone hog on show again
And he’s telling you how he’s a pro again
And you wonder why nobody’s telling him (what)
That what he’s delivering it’s getting so old (yeah!)
That its been growing mould and that mould’s growing mould
How many times do we have to be told
Bout the way that your skills brought you in from the cold?
Yada yada, do something new for a brother
While these clowns make their music and just copy each other
Was that guy the same guy or did we hear another?
Who cares, to my ears you all sound like eachother! (yeah!)

You pretend to emerge like the scourge of the earth
And then act like you’ve been taking punches since birth
And I’m hearing the words of your chorus and verse
And I wonder if you’ll take their truth to the hearse
‘Cause I’m asking myself if it could be worse
When integrity’s second and ego is first
I really don’t care about the size of the your purse
Or your personal income – it’s money I got some too (hey!)
But you want everyone else to want a piece of you
To wanna speak the way you do
I’m so tired of this game, you all sound the same
An army of fools with your egos to blame

You think I’m a clown man? You’re out of you mind!
I rap about girls, see? I’m one of a kind!
I rap in my videos with my shirt on the floor
I got girls in bikinis in queues out my door!
So roll up for the greatest show in the world
Pile on your bling and then give us a twirl
Look your best, and bare your chest for the girls
The monotony’s crazy, I just wanna hurl!

I also wrote a rap about someone in my class but it was too mean to put up on hear but just rest easy in the knowledge that I would take her down good in a rap battle.

MacPhisto

2006-08-20T19:56:00.000+12:00

I went to the snow this weekend. It was awesome.

The insanely long trip also meant that I got to catch up on some long overdue reading. I've been reading 'Walk On - The Spiritual Journey of U2'. I have to say, it's pretty interesting. But the main thing I plucked out of it was how much I relate to a lot of what Bono has to say.

I get a lot of stick for liking U2 and defending a group of guys with stupid names like 'Bono' and 'The Edge' who sing over-emotionally with their arms flailing in the air behind dumb sunglasses.But they really are inspirational people. It cleared a lot up in my head too that I' ve been chewing over recently.

"As an artist, I see the poetry of it. It's so brilliant. That this scale of creation, and the unfathomable universe, should describe itself in such vulnerability, as a child. That is mind-blowing to me. I guess that would make me a Christian. Although I don't use the label, because it is so very hard to live up to. I feel like I'm the worst example of it."

I like this quote a lot. Not that I can say this of myself really. In the classical sense of the word, I guess you could say that I am a recognisable Christian by my actions and my faith. Unlike Bono I do 'act' like a Christian. I don't swear, I've never done drugs and I don't smoke. I go to church every weekend and help out with a youth group. But the main focus in this book of what Bono has to say is the issue of legalism.

For those that don't do the 'God thing' and aren't familiar with yet another dumb Christianese word, legalism would be when people start telling you that you have to go to church, you have to have church as your number one priority. You start replacing the grace of it all with law.

And it's got me so frustrated lately. Some people who put 'church' things as a priority over everything else just because they have a 'church' label on them get agitated with me when I don't do the same. I've even had the same people praying in church 'Dear God, please forgive us for staying up late the night before church.' I want to scream. And I'm often surprised that I don't.

And then I worry that maybe I'm wrong for feeling like this. Maybe I'm not 'Christian' enough after all.

I've been feeling like this for a long long time. I seem to be getting a lot of things thrown at me - criticism for not putting my all into 'church' things, ways I could 'improve' myself, and worst of all - things I 'should' be doing.

Isn't this the gospel completely backwards??? Isn't it all about grace and making decisions from your heart, instead of out of social obligation (which by the way is what I've been doing)?

Maybe I'm just reacting. By no means am I saying that church isn't extremely important. I just think it's guilt manipulation to be forcing convictions on other people.

The other night I was walking through the heart of the city, trying to get somewhere warm when I was greeted by a 16 year old dude hanging out with friends on the street. We was dressed like a goth and stunk of alchohol, and was pretty drunk. But after about a minute of speaking to him I was asked if I was a Christian.

That in itself threw me. I was just being myself, not 'trying' to be a good Christian example at all and yet someone could just tell that something about me was different. God completely gave me an opportunity to show some of His light. And it wasn't because it was an organised youth group event, or a church outreach program, or an evangelistic textbook technique, or something I had to even think about. This kind of thing doesn't have church labels on it. It isn't stamped with an official Christian slogan or often given the thumbs up from a church leader. God just decides.

'You reap what you sow, and we have reaped nothing because we have sown nothing in that world" - Steve Taylor

I'm comin' to gitcha!

2006-08-20T17:40:00.000+12:00

This is awesome.

JIMI HENDRIX: Interviewed by Dick Cavett

Man. At so many points in my life I've wanted to be as cool as this guy.

YouTube is my new favourite thing in the world. It's pretty much an all you can eat of anything.

Any Incubus fans will want to check this out.

You can't say I never do anything for you.

Corduroy pillows - they're making headlines!

2006-08-16T17:37:00.000+12:00

I even resorted to putting a crappy one liner as my title. That's sad.

I want to talk about conciousness today. Y'no - it's that annoying time in between sleeps. I don't seem to have fully recovered since Friday, which I'm not that miffed about - it was completely worth it. Being able to dance for hours in Queen St with total strangers was at least comforting to know that I can still kinda dance half good.

If you ever get the chance to meet me, and with ever increasing rise of my rockstardom, the odds of that happening are that you will, then I'll probably be a bit of a disspointment in person. Constantly tired, a little bit shy and comfortable with hiding behind my hair. Not as crazy as you think.

But when I'm tired I suck. Reaaaaaaaaaally suck.

I'm all like getoutofmylifeallofyouijustwanttosleepstoptalkingtome.

Except I don't say that and it just gets worse. I just sit and stare into space dreaming of a special far away land I like to call my bed.

You wanna know what's worse?

I can't make this post interesting for the life of me. I'm really trying but I think ideas are only saved for people who appreciate the awake parts of the day. And I am not part of that posse.

Oh damnations.

Now my hair's gone curly and I hate it when that happens. No it's not cute, it's crappy and makes my hair even shorter than it already is thankyou missus hairdresser.

What's worse was how my day ended up yesterday. I unenthusiastically went off to work
where I'm one of those annoying people who call you up to do surveys at dinner time. My fuel light was one but I thought as my car was as strong as beast she could handle it. At work I started getting cramps, and I know it isn't socially acceptable to talk about this kind of thing, but I spent half my night in the can.

Needless to say I was relieved to be getting home, but as I approached the top of the hill on the motorway, my acceleration started to surge, eventually I pulled over. Out of petrol.

Oh yeah, and I have no money on my cell phone so I couldn't ring or text anyone.

I figured my best bet was to stick my hazards on and stand by my car and try and attract a policman, who never showed up. Half an hour later and freezing I finally figured out how to make a collect call and got hold of my mum, who sent my dad over with some petrol. He arrived and we filled her up, but it still wouldn't start. My dear father tried to drive off but then got stuck in the mud.

As if things couldn't get worse.

By now I was freezing and feeling pretty guilty about the drama I'd caused because the AA were too busy to answer our calls so we had to call my two brothers to help push the car out. After a couple of tries we got it. And my car eventually started. So much for an early night.

I was by the side of the motorway for an hour and a half.

Man what a long drawn out post. I'm sorry you read this.

Maybe this will cheer you up.

Oh no you didn't...

2006-08-14T22:17:00.000+12:00

They're making a sequal to High School Musical. Yes them. As if they haven't given me enough problems already. I've made enough confessions.

I have sweet news. The school wants me back to teach my epic music lessons every friday. Which is rad because kids go nuts for air guitar competitions and chocolate incentives. Besides, I miss them.

I'm just wondering if they would still want me back if they knew my deep dark secret. Call me a sith but I kid you not, I did something REALLY bad.

Maybe one more confession...

Y'see there was this little dude. And this little dude had a dvd with him so the class could watch it. So we did but only half of it. And I mean, you can't just watch half a movie can you? No you really can't.

So I thought what the heck and put that dvd into my bag to take home for the weekend. No one ever found out.

Yup, I stole High School Musical form a 7 year old boy.

I've got a watch what I write. Or at least get some help or something because sooner or later this will turn into a Disney fan site.

Just one more confession...

I downloaded the whole soundtrack.

Seriously if you know anyone that could help me or something... I don't know who I am anymore. Sad face.

Post of the day - even her cat is cool.

I want to be Troy Bolton.

2006-08-13T19:10:00.000+12:00

I've had it with people that cut hair for a living. What is so difficult to grasp about the word 'trim'? Do they not realise that we rock stars need to have our hair just the way it's supposed to be - which is not fringeless or without long bits at the back? I paid $13 to look like a preppy 12 year old. Did they have to choose between the scissors and a conscience or something?

Yeah so I went and got myself a haircut yesterday. I had to look sharp for my hot date last night.

For those of us that have blogs, we will know that one of the best bits about it is you get to show off your friends.

I have a friend to show off today. Her name is Jess and I've known her for no more than half a year, and it's cool because she's been in Woman's Weekly - I tell no lies. She's my most famous friend to date. Not counting Jack Black or Billy Joe Armstrong.

Anyway, me and Jess decided it would be cool to hit the city, and it was rad. Spicy food, movies, live music and street parties. I had such a sweet night. But one of the coolest things about Jess is that she will not only listen to my whiney whining about not having a girlfriend, but will offer to act as a replacement for a night when it gets really bad. On top of that, she's more than happy to be a practise round for a real date.

And tell me 'never do that on a date. ever' where needed. Money can't buy lessons like that. And if it can then Jess will put them out of business no problem. She can point out every little wrong action when in date mode including involuntary spitting in her face, involuntary dribbling, spraying chips on a restaurant floor and crappy conversation topics.

For example, I would have never guessed that the question 'Do you think that the plural of fetus is 'feti'?' wasn't hot date talk. Thanks to last night I now it's a big no no.

Still, it would be nice to be able actually take a girl out for that kinda thing. I've been stuck in 'the phase' for a long long time. It's the phase you go through when you think you're lonely because you don't have the girl who you look for in every face.

When I find her I'm gonna say to her "Young lady, why are you so late? Do you have any idea how worried I've been that you weren't going to turn up? Do you know how much complaining my friends have had to take from me because of you?"

And then in a perfect world she would just smile and we would spend the night singing along to High School Musical in front of the TV and all would be forgotten.

Once my hair grows back I'll be one of the most eligible guys on the planet and then she'll turn up I'm sure.

Post of the day - Your weekly dish of rad

My secret new fetish...

2006-08-12T00:11:00.000+12:00

I've seen it 3 times in one week.

Help me.

The warm fuzzies are everywhere

2006-08-11T16:54:00.000+12:00

I never know what to do with myself when I get like this.

And I've been told that I'm softening up too much.

I've just finished up four weeks as a trainee primary school teacher, in a little class of 7 and 8 year olds. So now I'm feeling very sorry for myself. Kids are so cool. If they don't like something they'll just tell you. They don't mind doing the same stuff over and over again. They think you're the man if you can play guitar, and it's still okay to show emotion.

You can get to know children in 10 minutes, and you can become a hero in a day.

Being a teacher is rad. Now, I don't abuse authority, I just label things with maybe with a bit too much freedom sometimes. In my first week, I took a music lesson with about 4 classes and I really wanted to see what it would sound like to have so many people in one place, stomping and clapping the 'We will rock you' beat. So I got about 80 kids to do that. It was a 'warm up'. And it sounded amazing.

I miss them. And that's a good thing because before this visit I wasn't sure whether I wanted to do this teaching thing. Now I've seen that it's one of the best jobs in the world.

There was little Samuel, who couldn't actually work out how to think for himself, and did the wrong thing all the time, but we managed to get a bit of ground together with the motto 'Use your brain'. There was Summer who was a bigger drama princess than I am, who was having trouble with friendships. I got her to write down all her problems on paper and bring them to me, and yesterday she said everything got better. Her brother, Freedom was a pain in the backside for teachers, but we got to know eachother through games of soccer and actually listened to me before I went. These little things are huge.

I know I know I know. A degree in primary education isn't very rock star of me, the word organisation is hardly in my vocabulary, and 'snappy dresser' isn't the first thing that comes to mind when people think of me.

But I wish I could explain how worth it it can be. Maybe this will do the trick:

Dear Mr Burrows

I will miss you when you go. Thankyou for helping me when I wasn't sure.

We will always miss you.

From Jai. :)

Quick, tell all the cool kids!

2006-08-11T16:27:00.000+12:00

Well, wattya know. A resurrection.

Somebody couldn't keep away - even for a year, and that's good news. You know it's true when readers from way back in the glory days ask for you to start writing again. So I thought hey why not. I've been thinking about it for a while, and life is pretty interesting. And why be selfish and keep it all to myself? Exactly.

The Guru of Funky Slippers is back and he's even more of a guru, waaaaaaaaaay funkier and more slippery than you can get your hands around. And I'm sooooooo happy about that.

Because everyone reads the Funky Slippers. And the world isn't the same without my dainty little words filling life with more useless information than your hard drive can handle, raising eyebrows, dropping jaws and making smiles. And squirms.

I'm sorry I've been a crappy blogger guy. I'm sorry I threw the towel in because I was too lazy. It was nothing personal, I swear.

So in true 'old days' fashion I would like to mark this occassion with an epic haiku that isn't haiku:

I find my fire ball
When I close the door of life
And push really hard

You don't read stuff like that just anywhere now do you?

Post of the day - it's only fair.