A wayward child

People talk about the sound of pop music now – well, look at a guy like Michael Jackson. Now years before Michael Jackson there was another Michael Jackson: his name was Little Richard. Nothing exists without the past.” – Bobby Womack, Beat magazine 2013

Dear Bobby Womack, I love your music and way with words, but I really feel like you don't get enough props for your rocking sunglasses collection.

Dear Bobby Womack, I love your music and way with words, but I really feel like you don’t get enough props for your amazing sunglasses collection.

I talk to my parents a lot, I feel like it’s possibly more than the average 24 year old. This is for two reasons a) my parents call me at least ten or so times a week for very random reasons and always seperately. Usually if something…or possibly even nothing has happened that day, dad will call me at some stage and this telephone call is usually followed by a call from mum who wants to know exactly what I just told dad but wants to hear it directly from me and b) I genuinely get a long with my parents but rarely have the opportunity to sit in the same room with them let alone talk for more than five minutes at a time…so they’ve developed this habit of getting updates about my life through sporadic quick conversations throughout the week in which they are reassured that yes, I am still breathing and that no, I haven’t turned into some drug loving vagrant who loves the nightlife and likes to boogie.

The reality is that in many respects I am a pretty good kid. I studied my butt off for five years at Uni, landed a great casual job for the duration of those five years and after graduating somehow managed to get employment in my field of study. The other truth is that I’m clumsy as all hell, the first person to take a risk and seem to have few qualms when it comes to walking down a dark alley at four in the morning.

Since moving to Clifton Hill I’d like to think that I’ve become a little more street wise. I’m no longer immune to the idea of taking a taxi instead of catching the last train home and am yet to walk down a dark alley or tell a drunk and racially abusive dude where to go.

I’m probably the first person to say that I can be a stubborn mofo when it comes to being independent and it was a conversation I had with my dad earlier tonight that really made me realise that I’m not the only one who knows this.

For the past month I’ve been riding my bike to work, I tend to stick to the back streets and generally avoid weaving through traffic or cutting through busy intersections. I’m yet to have a bingle and have been fortunate enough to avoid being doored but it is a reality that I know could quite easily come my way. I know a few people who have had accidents, a friend of a friend was riding downhill when someone flung open their car door. She lost her two front teeth. Another friend tried to do a shifty at some lights and ended up being hit by a car.

I’m not stupid about biking and will continue to persist with it but accidents happen and sometimes the shit really does hit the fan.

So when I was talking to my dad tonight and he started asking me whether I needed any bike gear, such as leather gloves, a high-vis jacket or proper riding pants it made me realise that he had realised that being the parent of a slightly wayward child means accepting that they want to make mistakes in their life and simply trying to ensure that when they do go head first over the handle bars they don’t scratch the bejesus out of their hands.

Thanks, Dad.

In other news, this is the first blog I’ve written in a long time! I’ve been busy as all hell with various volunteering gigs, work and living in general. I fully intend to do a photo blog soon of some of the random graffiti I ride past on my way to work (there is some good stuff) and write a bit more about what I’ve actually been up to.

But in a nutshell…

– I’ve started my first ‘serious’ volunteering role. I call it serious because it’s a long term commitment that is aimed at ensuring people with disabilities are provided with quality care and good (great would be better) living standards.

-I love PBS Radio! And I am currently volunteering at the station on the phones. Call up between 6 am – 9 am next Saturday and I’ll entice you to donate your hard earned dollars with my croaky morning voice.

– Living in Clifton Hill has been amazing. My housemates and I did some stealth lemon, flower and chilli picking tonight. They lifted me to pick some overhanging lemons and when a car drove past they let go and for some weird reason I decided the drop was too far and just held onto the fence like some kind of terrified animal. It would’ve been hilarious to see.

-I really wish I’d saved my pennies for Bobby Womack’s The Bravest Man in the Universe tour.

– Someone I’m not usually into, but who seems to keep appearing on my playlist is Frank Ocean. I don’t really like the film clip at all, but I do love the  falsetto going on in this track.

– I love that I have called myself Sha’Nay’Nay so many times that I can call my friends office and have her receptionist tell her that Sha’Nay’Nay is calling.

Hope you’re all having a rocking week!

Lots of love, Lu

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