Memento vivere.
Just thought I’d post something to justify still keeping the blog. (Jules- please don’t hurt me for my injudicious use of the word ‘just’. I know you hate that.)
I’m back at uni now, which is always a joy. I’m only doing two subjects this semester- Scandal, Sex, and Sentiment - A History of the 18th Century English Novel, and Film Noir: Style and History. So far SSS has been heavy on the sentiment and lacking on the scandal and sex, but I think we get to that a bit later. Looking forward to it. Noir is fun and engaging, as usual for a cinema subject. I wish I could major in Cinema, but pragmatically it makes no sense. If I’m going to turn this Arts degree into anything useful, I’m gonna have to major in English and then head into something more vocationally sound postgrad. Either teaching or publishing, I’m thinking.
I turned 22 on Wednesday. That number is a little frightening. At 21 I could still make believe I was a teenager. 18-21, it’s all the same thing, right? 20 and 21 are essentially part of your teen years. (For our generation, anyway.) But 22 is definitely solid Twenties.
I was hit pretty hard by the news of Mrs. Frisch’s death. (For those who didn’t go to school with me, she was an English teacher at Geelong High.) Frischy taught me English in Year 10, and Literature for both years of my VCE.
I always valued my English teachers more than any others, because my interests fell firmly in that sphere even from the start of high school. My three favourite teachers were the enigmatic Mr Merlo, Mr Harris, and Mrs Frisch (Mr Kaberry gets a special mention for being such an endless source of amusement). All English teachers.
One event that comes to mind whenever I think about Mrs Frisch is from Parent-Teacher Night after first term in Year 10. She actually told my mum she thought I was ‘thick as pig shit’ until she read my classwork, because I was so quiet and unresponsive in class. I love how she didn’t mince words. Classic Frischy.
I’m not the kind of person who stays in contact with teachers after high school. Actually, I’m not the kind of person who stays in contact with anyone after anything. I wish I were in this case. Frischy was such a big part of my life for three years, three very important, formative years. And then I never saw her again. I wonder if she’d even have remembered me if we’d met a year or two after high school. I met a teacher who I’d had for two years in primary school once during high school, and she had no recollection of me whatsoever. It was awkward and depressing.
It’s odd how people can be so much a part of your life, influencing it immeasurably, and then just disappear when the circumstances that brought you together change. I’ve never kept in touch with teachers, with bosses, with coworkers… I barely even keep in touch with friends. I think it’s mostly because I’m so reticent and private that even when I am in daily contact with people I don’t really connect with them, so there’s little point keeping such a tenuous relationship going after the exigencies of our acquaintance end. It’s my loss, really, and something I’m going to have to work on if I want to stop feeling so disconnected and alienated all the time.
Wow, I didn’t realise this simple update post was going to turn into such a sullen self-analysis. I feel like I should end on something positive, so here’s a picture of me with my wonderful girlfriend Laura:
That was taken before we went out to karaoke with some of her friends. Something I never imagined I’d do, and definitely something I never thought I’d enjoy. Love does strange things to people… including making them sing and dance Justin Timberlake. I’d write a sonnet about it, but I can’t think of a rhyme for ‘Timberlake’ for the couplet.
There is something in the air that seems to be causing the population to slide into a deeply ruminative state. Not only have I found myself with a mild case of the blues, it seems others around me are also brooding over some of life’s deeper consequences.
In the past week, at least three bloggers I subscribe to have posted fairly personal entries, all with some sort of epiphanical subtext.
Interestingly enough, I have spent a great deal of energy brooding on love and it’s nature; what it drives us to do. It is refreshing to hear someone speak of love like you have.
Well, I suppose all I can say is when I saw that picture, you reminded me of Sonny Landham.
I know how you feel Dan, I turned 22 a month ago. It’s a weird age, and I can’t stop thinking how close 25 is, then 30, etc, etc.
Ed: I think it’s just the age. (I would assume these other bloggers you speak of are around the same age as us.)
Robin: That’s what I was going for! I’m glad SOMEONE recognised it.
Tommy: 25 is definitely oppressive. It looms heavily. It’s kind of depressing to think that a few years ago I had no idea what I’d be like at 25, but now I’m pretty sure I’ll be much the same as I am at 22.
By the way, I found this awesome Trapper folder circa ‘93 at a drugstore in Seattle (I know you love Trapper Keepers). It’d been sitting there for close to 15 years and I finally bought it. I’ll send you a scan, it’s pretty cool.
Twas a sad day when I heard about the passing of Mrs Frisch. Had her for Year 10 English and like you said, she’d be in my top 3 all time teachers (Mr Merlo would also warrant a spot).
She was always up for a bit of banter in class which made things enjoyable. That and she probably had the best teacher nickname going around, ‘Fillet o’Frisch’.
22 hit me hard too. I’m old
I’m 27 now. I remember 22 and 23 being the years that I thought, “shit! I have to get my life together!”
My friends were getting married and buying houses and I was still playing Nintendo all night…I miss those days now, actually. Carpe diem, lads!
hey dan, thanks for the comment. you look real happy in the photo, i only remember a bit ago traveling through leopold after jules’ party…
mr merlo was also very high in the amusement department, such as the arugment between him and geoff about elonggate, apithany robottom, daniel vuksik and his mythical sore leg, jarrod dancing on the table…list goes on and cherie mentioned jupiter stations!
hope all is well.
Hey Dan,
Chin up you little sad sack. I was planning to ask Frischy for help with my thesis. Now she’s gone, I am fucked. Really. I was one of those who kept in monthly contact with her after school. Probably the only one in our year, except maybe Livvi or Sarah or Kara.
Anyway, if you ever feel like one day not being such a “reticent and private” guy, you have my… email. So. Email me. I’ve occasionally thought about your non-contacting-after-things-end ways. Like the minute primary school ended, that was it between us, and then you rocked up at geelong high and we was all like “remember ‘psychically linked’?” and thought we were hilarious. Then high school ended and it was apart time again. If you’re ever bored of Laura (it may happen), and if Julian is busy, then to reiterate, you have my email.
Oh, you better believe “Boys and Girls of Rock and Roll” will be on the Karoake playlist at your wedding!
Hell yeah!
Curtain’s up and I’m ready to go
my guitar is in my hands
There’s nothing more than I rather do
than play in a rock ‘n roll band!
What we have is what we have been given
heading for the top! (don’t you know?)
we never stop believing now!