A New Change

My name is Trevor
This year is already full of change

I’m going back to university.

There are a number of prompts that I received for this. 

I’m still not healthy enough to go to most work roles. This has been plaguing me quite a lot lately. My lack of purpose has been a struggle. 

The timing is apparently perfect. Back when I started the degree, I was still young(ish) and completely unfocussed and undisciplined. As it turns out though, there is a certain amount of time that you have between starting the degree to when it needs to be finished. As it so happens, I have two years left on my degree and they have told me that I have two years left to finish it. This means that if I don’t stuff up, everything that I have done up until this point will count towards my degree.

I am going to be a primary school teacher. 

When I have mentioned this to people, the majority get a spark in their eyes and say something like “that’s perfect for you,” or “you’d be a great teacher.” An essence of Trevor that a lot of people encounter lead them to see me in this role with ease. This is both a wonderful blessing and an cautious pressure.  

 

I have some fond memories of the last time that I was at university. Some of them even surprised me upon their recollections.

I remember realising that my reflex comment is often what I believe to be comical. I know for a lot of people that know me will be unsurprised by this statement, but back then, I was still coming to terms with it. We were sitting down at a table studying (upon reflection, I did far more study than I actually led myself to believe) when we someone told us the news of Steve Irwin’s death (yes, that long ago) and of course, my first comment was “Crikey!” It was a simple exclamation that helped to reinforce a powerful belief that I was developing. My first instinct was “Make them laugh.” This has since grown, but also been tempered somewhat.

I remember walking through one of the grassy areas with a couple of people that I was beginning to befriend. One of them, while eating a sausage roll that they didn’t like and complaining about, noticed something on the ground. She picked it up and then fastened the paperclip to the left collar of my Hawaiian shirt, telling me it was lucky.

I kept that paperclip there for years, and went so far as to put other paperclips on other Hawaiian shirts. They were all in a way lucky and also they were not. They were a link to a nice memory. What was funny though, was when I had a moment of inspiration and did the same thing with my work shirts, not because they were lucky, but because they were useful. There were a number of occasions where I had to teach or help people with pinning miniatures, a task for which a paperclip had the perfect thickness of metal, and I would just slip the paperclip off my shirt to use for them. I would always remember to replace it later.

I remembered one of my favourite pieces of assessment was a group presentation. It was for a children’s literacy subject that was being taught for the first time. We each had to read a book and collaborate on an hour long presentation on a topic. There were a whole heap of different topics and we decided on War and Conflict. We were given a fairly wide scope for the assignment and a large list of books to choose from. My choice was War of the Worlds, a book that I had not read before and one that genuinely scared the bejeebers out of me.

We all decided that we were busy people and didn’t need to have meetings three times a week to micromanage the project and each other (as most groups were doing). We decided to set aside a public holiday where we would gather to do the assignment. The only stipulation that we had on this was that we had all read our books and came with a couple of discussion points.

We all did. We spent the day together (roughly six hours’ worth of work) and wrote the assignment, decided upon activities, themed it and even had costume ideas to set the room up. We were the first group to do the assignment and we blew the lecturer (who also happened to be the tutor) out of the water. We were highly praised for a job well done.

I remember sitting in the library on the morning that the maths assignment was due and teaching at least five people how to use the program that was needed to the final question of the assignment and the odd fellowship that forms when two thirds of a class is putting the finishing touches on an assignment and printing it out when it was finished.

All of these memories and many more came flooding back to me when I put some serious thought into the fact that I was returning to university. I thought about how close we grew as a group over the course of two years.

I also thought about how I turned my back on all that.

When I was last at university, I was very busy. In addition to studying full time, including going to schools for prac, I was also working three jobs. I was too busy to do what was right by all of them. Influenced by the people closest to me at the time, I made the decision to drop all but one of those four activities. When I was offered a full time position with Games Workshop, I took it. I did not return to university, I left my job as an outside school hours carer for the PCYC and I stopped doing contract work as a roof truss estimator for Trussmasters.

A small part of me regrets that decision to this day.

The majority of me accepts it and sees that it helped to make me, me. The trials and successes that I had while with Games Workshop, the people that I met during this time, the skills that I learned as a result. None of that would have happened if I hadn’t made the decisions that I did.

So instead of lament over what could have been, I’m going back to uni to finish my degree.

My name is Trevor
I’m going back to university
A new chapter is beginning

You are not alone

My name is Trevor
You are not alone

There are probably people who don’t agree with some of the things I say in this post. That is okay.

I think suicide is a cowardly thing to do. 

This is the third time that I have gone to write this post. For reasons, it didn’t get to the publish stage on the last two attempts. This time, it has.

The original title was going to be “The day the laughter died”. 

I know that there was a massive response when the news came out that Robin Williams died. There have been countless blogs, postings and news articles about it and I'm going to be adding to it.

One of my first thoughts was of the film clip for Don’t Worry, Be Happy.

In 1992, there was a false rumor spread that Bobby McFerrin had committed suicide. These rumors were used as a counterpoint for his most famous song “Don’t Worry, Be Happy.” Recently, this song has gone through the agony of one of those associated with it actually ending their own life. Robin Williams was in the film clip of this song and last year took his own life, bringing that horrible rumor full circle back into fact.

It was a Tuesday morning when I found out. It hit me hard. He was the first person that I really linked to the term comedian. In 1992 I went to the cinemas in the Myer Centre in Brisbane. They were down where Target now is. I saw Aladdin. It sparked in me a desire, a life goal (one that I have all but given up on), to be a voice actor in a Disney movie. His portrayal of the Genie was amazing. In the coming years I would see him in different movies: Hook and Jumanji, Patch Adams and Mrs Doubtfire, Good Will Hunting and Dead Poets Society, and many more besides. He was an inspiration to me.

And then he killed himself.

That Tuesday was a big day for me. It started with filming “13 Ways to Hail the Bus” for the Cheeky Moon channel. A shoot that involved some physical comedy. It wasn’t easy. We came up with quite a few different bits and pieces. Some were prepared and brought along by the person filming, like the batman cowl and the Christmas lights. Some were just made up with some of the random bits and pieces I had lying around in my car like the Scooby Doo hat and Santa school certificate. I was performing comedy without an audience mere hours after the news. It was tough.

The cowl was too small.

After this shoot was done, we changed locations, added another actor, another director and most importantly a canvas of a famous actor from Jurassic Park and did the final shots for “My Friend Jeff”. This involved going on the wheel of Brisbane first and then wandering around Southbank and the nearby locations with a goofy grin on my face while carrying around said painting. We got more than a few strange looks and more than a few smiles, possibly making people’s day. 

 The true star of My Friend Jeff

That finished, I got in the car and drove down to the Gold Coast Arts Centre for the tech and dress run for Short and Sweet with Merry Fecking Christmas. At this rehearsal, I got to wear the kilt for the first time (The photo is from the opening night).

I’m the one wearing the kilt

During the tech rehearsal I was off my game and missed a few lines. This play, while being quite funny also dealt with death, so it was understandable that we were all a bit distracted. As usual, I berated myself for my perceived failings. The real challenge, however was yet to come.

During the dress rehearsal, we were given the opportunity to see some of the other plays. For those that don’t really know, the first line of any play (particularly one as short as ten minutes) needs to set the tone, pace and atmosphere. I was the one with that gift and responsibility.

So you can imagine the situation. It’s been a challenging day. I’ve found out about Robin Williams, I have been on full steam all day, I messed up the tech rehearsal, I’m backstage, waiting to bring on the play’s couch and start the show. It’s the first time we are performing this for any sort of real sized audience. The play before ours begins and runs its course. It was not one that I had heard before, but it was all about mental illness and the struggles of an individual in the throes of that life.

All right Trevor, no pressure.

We got through it well. There were no real issues other than with props (we sorted those out before opening night). But there was a lot going through my mind. Through all of our minds to be fair.

That day started with a death and it hung over me for the entire day. I didn’t even know the man.

Can you imagine what it would be like if I had known him?

Suicide is a very real concern in our society. There are statistics, they are horrible and don’t need to be quoted. I think that it is a very selfish and cowardly act. It is selfish in a way that puts yourself, not first, but only. It is a selfishness bred from apathy.

I have seen too much death and loss at the hands of this despicable action. I cannot justify how a person can do this, and that is NOT my failing. That's not to say that people aren't allowed to have dark thoughts. I've had them. That's part of human nature. But to act on them, that is something else entirely.

A number of years ago, I was at a funeral for a young man who took his own life. I knew him. At this funeral, his suicide was almost romanticised. “It was the only way out.” “He couldn’t bear living.” It was made as if his decision was acceptable and that the losses of those he left behind were not his problem. They may not have been his problem, but they were his fault.

Within a month, there were at least two more from his social group that followed his example. Perhaps if, instead of making it sound acceptable, they focused on the tragedy and those left behind these deaths may have been prevented.

I’ve been present at more than one suicide attempt. I’ve been the first to be called when something has happened but been unsuccessful. I’ve been the one who has had to call the ambulance. I will not go into details and I will offer no clues as to identities. Many of these people have gone on to be happy. Thankfully, I have not been the one to find a successful attempt yet. I hope I never am.

The people who truly suffer are those left behind. The friends, the family. There is the loss. The sadness. But worst of all, I think at least, are the questions. What if I’d…

Those left behind are often asking themselves questions that they cannot have any answers to. There are huge numbers of variations to the question but they usually end in a similar way. “…maybe they’d still be here today.”

I understand that people can go through incredible pain. I understand that there may not seem like an end in sight. I know people suffer from depression and other mental illnesses. I know that when you’re in the depths of these conditions, that what I’m about to say next can be one of the most challenging things to accept.

You are not alone.

You are not alone.

You are not alone.

I know that this can sometimes feel like it’s the furthest from the truth, but believe it.

If you are feeling alone, call someone, send them a message, ask for help; or just simply, try to talk to someone. Sometimes it helps to know that someone cares. If I know you, I care about you. If I don’t, I still care. I want people to be well. I’m always ready to listen. Say the word. Tell me it’s important and there will be no questions asked. For those who contemplated this act, I'm not trying to offend. If anything, the message I desperately want to get across is I am overjoyed that you are still here.

Since his death, I have seen some of Robin Williams’ films. There was a moment in one of them that struck me as ridiculously powerful. I suppose some of that can be put down to hindsight, but I also remember that it resonated with me when I first saw it. There is one line in Bicentennial Man. His character, Andrew, is confronted with Portia, the granddaughter of “Little Miss” who was the youngest daughter of the family to which he belongs. During his confusion, Portia laughs at something he says. Andrew asks her “what’s so funny?” to which she replies “You are.” The line that sticks with me follows: “I’m not trying to be funny.” The look on his face when he said this came from a place of incredible honesty. This line struck a chord within me. I could see that this would possibly be a challenge that he faced on a daily basis. For most of the world, they say Robin Williams in a certain way. For many, the question was “What could someone as funny as Robin Williams have to be sad about?” They saw his ‘public face’. Behind that all was the man.

The reason that I have included some photos in this post that don't match the tone of it is to illustrate this point. My public face was bright and cheerful for the most part. It didn't show what was going on beneath the surface. 

For me, a lot of the last couple of years have been toning down my ‘public face’. To show people that sometimes, I’m not trying to be funny. There are people who have come to know me as a full individual. They took a risk on the early stages of meeting a brightly clad goof ball and found that underneath all of the madness, there was something more, potentially even deep. I have been taking that terrifying step of bridging that gap between the ‘public face’ and the man.

This blog has helped.

You impact a large number of people in this world. It could be on a personal level like family, friends or lovers. It could be on a surface level, like co-workers or team mates. It could be on a subconscious level, the person who always catches the train with you, or the server at the local restaurant. If you need help, there are people in the world. If you don’t, be there for those who do.

If people get to see the real me, not a caricature of a human, I may be able to help others as well as myself. They may be more comfortable talking to me. They may not. Either way, I am always there.

I know that this post has been somewhat jumbled and sometimes incoherent. There’s only so many ways you can rearrange words to get the same meaning. In short, it is okay to feel fear. It is okay to be crippled with doubt and insecurities. It is not okay to rob the world of you. 

My name is Trevor.
You are not alone.

Connections

My name is Trevor
I am good at making connections. 

A couple of years ago, I went on a course that Games Workshop ran called Life Long Learning.
It was not what I was expecting.

To attend this course, there were a few criteria that we had to meet. These were mainly based around how long we had been with the company and that we had to have been meeting our targets for a certain period of time. I was expecting this to be a course that would help me to be better at my job. In a way, I was right.

It was a two day course that was run in Sydney. It was tagged on after another event which made for four days that I was out of my store at the company’s expense. I thought that it would have to be an important course.

It was the most important and effective course that I went on in my entire employ with Games Workshop.

This course was about learning who we were.

I was one of twelve people on this course, most of us were managers of our respective stores. We all had different backgrounds and stories and we all knew each other in some form or another. By the end of the weekend, we knew each other a lot better. There were a number of different exercises that we participated in. I am going to mention one.

We built a Lego bridge.

This was the first hands on activity that we did. The task was not simply to build a bridge. We had a time limit to plan out how we were going to do it, how much specifically of the materials we were going to use, how far the bridge would span and how long it was going to take us. It also needed to support a small weight at the middle of it.

We truly learned the meaning of the saying ‘too many chiefs, not enough Indians’. We were all used to doing things our own ways in a professional capacity and with the pressure of a time limit, more than half of my group were had jumped on the task, getting it done in the ‘most efficient’ and ‘best’ ways that we knew. A couple of people began concerning themselves with who was the team leader to keep us to time and to keep us on track.

We completed our task and began a debriefing. It was during this that we each got to explain what we did and why. The fact that I’m only going to mention my own is no indication of what other people did or said. Everyone had their own opinions and points to raise and many of these were of high value. I only know me in this though.

When it was my turn to speak, I spoke to the group about my major piece of input that I had. I was watching the people trying to build the span. Due to the nature of the pieces (they were like a train track), they were coming apart when we made the span too big. I watched this, had a look at the sheet that posed the problem to us and, finding no objections to my idea, posed it to the group. I suggested that we flip the entire bridge upside down. I demonstrated my idea. That instead of collapsing, the way the pieces connected would help enforce their join with gravity (to a point of course). The group took this on board and we completed the task with this change of thinking.

I, quite literally, got our group to turn its project upside down.

I was asked a question by the facilitator. He asked “Did you realise that when the task started, some people took a step in to look at the pieces, you took a step away?” I didn’t realise it at the time, but it makes sense. I took a step back to look at everything together and see how it all pieced together. I wanted to see the connections.

This is a talent that I often possess. I can see the connections. This gift manifests itself in a number of ways.

Firstly, as with the story I have mentioned, I can step back from something and look at how the pieces fit. My mother has told me of the hours that I would stand at Expo 88 watching the Ball Machines. I think that, even as young as I was then, I was doing making connections or learning how they worked. I’ve a reasonable gift for solving puzzles as a result. The flip side of this skill is that when I can’t see or understand something, I can get incredibly frustrated. When the connections don’t make sense, I can sometimes fixate on them.

Secondly, I have a knack for finding even the most tenuous threads from the infinite web of the universe to fit a situation. A recent example was at a writers meeting for the YouTube channel that I am a part of, Cheeky Moon. They were discussing how a future sketch would work and I put forward an idea that was so far from what they were discussing, but still connected to the original idea that the whole sketch just fell into place.

Finally, I have a disgustingly good track record for predicting endings. Now I’m not going to say that I knew what the twist for The Sixth Sense was (I was told before I saw the movie anyway), but I can see the patterns that infect most forms of entertainment. This doesn’t mean that I don’t enjoy those stories, or that I spoil them for the people around me (often), but when a something truly surprises me and makes me go “Oh yeah, cause that thing… with the... and the… Oh yeah” I am genuinely impressed.

It’s a part of who I am. I see connections and I learn quickly. This can make me come across as arrogant at times. I’ve learned to ask the right questions to get a better understanding of tasks and situations.

I’ve had people who have tried to teach me and found this aspect either positive or negative. Those that have found it a nuisance and a challenge found that I became either distant or disruptive. They would try to find fault in my work, and become even more frustrated when few or none existed. My grade nine maths program meant that I spent three lessons a week in the library doing large amounts of work that was left for us in order to rote learn the subject. When I couldn’t produce any of this work to my teacher when it was requested after the first semester, he became unhappy with my work and me in general. The blessing of grade nine maths is that it really could only be marked right or wrong and with my understanding of the connections and as a result the ‘why’ of the math, there was little he could mark as wrong.

Those blessings of teachers that I have had (including as recently as last year) that have embraced this within me have received someone who is willing to learn, go the extra mile and offers no excuse to rest from the pursuit of excellence. To these, I am grateful beyond words.  

From Dune: “the first lesson of all was the basic trust that he could learn.” I have truly been blessed with my ability to perceive the connections in the world. I can learn. Even through this last year when my body, my very blood, was rebelling against me; this ability has survived. I have learned a lot. I will learn more.

My name is Trevor
I believe in Life Long Learning.