welcome to annoyedville, population, me
October 13, 2005Onemana, New Zealand
6:18am
Balance of Fatherhood:
You hear your son fussing and singing to himself at 5:30am. You’re angry and frustrated for having to wake up so early.
You go to his bed and lie with him, try to figure out why he is waking up so early. You are confused and tolerant, knowing there is no malicious intent to his waking up.
He says in a little boy whisper, which is barely a whisper at all, “Lets be best friends forever” with not one smidge of provocation and then hugs your head tightly. You swell so big with love and absolute joy from hearing something you hope to hear from your boy for the rest of your life.
Anger
Frustration
Confusion
Tolerance
Love
And absolute joy.
Talk about compartmentalizing. I am a simple creature.
Play Centre started again, after a two week school holiday hiatus, so Hud and Steph have disappeared in the mornings to allow the writing to continue. It will be a good week and still on target to cross the 200 page mark by the time we leave the Coromandel Peninsula. After they come back we have been hitting random beaches for just small walks. The weather has been the shits here, but at least its getting warmer, not colder like home ha ha.
I am getting excited about leaving Onemana. About two weeks ago, I was elated to be in one place for so long, because I felt so settled. And now, as the departure date gets closer, I want to leave because I feel so settled. Because I know it’s going to be over soon. The other reason, and this may be indicative of something larger, is I am beginning to dislike living in a small town. Everyone knows your business. People drop by unannounced. It’s kind of boring. I hate admitting the last one, because it is boredom that has made writing a novel so interesting. But the other two get on my nerves more and more as the time passes here in Onemana, pop. 300. At least at home, strangers are guarded enough to avoid conversations about themselves, limiting interaction to the familiar wave or pressed lips with accompanying head nod. Here I might as well climb up our neighbour’s asses I know so much about them, including all their financial obligations and burdens, a topic more taboo at home then which hand you wipe with. And of course I immediately became the guy writing the book, a label I wouldn’t actually mind if I were this accomplished novelist, seeking solace in small town NZ to solve a wicked case of writer’s block. But I am a green doe eyed wannabe; with absolutely no clue if this novel I am writing has an ounce of merit or value. So when Carol pops by in the mornings to drop off the mail, and then leaves after only six or seven minutes of one way conversation because she wants to leave me to “my writing” I find it a bit irritating. She was also the one that warned the people here on school holidays that I was writing a book. allowing me to summarize the novel to people I barely want to know.
I mean, take it easy star shine, this is not Salem, and I am not Stephen King.
Yesterday we took a walk to Oputere Beach yesterday with what was supposed to be two kids from play centre and Hud, Steph and I. But the father invited himself, crushing my family walk already marred by the addition of two other kids. Can you tell I am in a bit of a mood today? You would think I would appreciate the testosteroney bond of another male older then three, and maybe I would, if this male and I had anything in common. But this is the German dude, with hair halfway down his back and about eight teeth in his mouth. He is pleasant enough, but there is a bit of a language barrier, meaning my sometimes obscure sense of humour falls on untranslatable ears. He just stares as me with a smile that looks mean because, come on, all Germans look mean and then nods and walks away. The other thing is he speaks German to his kids. Not that big of a deal but when his older boy threw sand directly in Hud’s eyes, I wanted him to at least acknowledge his boy’s act of pure evil, but I couldn’t tell what he was saying because it was in German and then they both kind of laughed, leaving me bewildered holding Hud’s crying hand.
These are the same kids that are still being suckled by the mother who did not join us for the walk, who was no doubt at home, eating bon bons and watching television, dressed as a dominatrix of course. I mean she is German.
I may need an ‘I really do not dislike Germans’ disclaimer after this post.
I really am a friendly person. Really.
I think I am just tired.
Nein.
I am just tired of this place.
Love to all,
J.
posted by Jason @ 11:09 AM
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