10th August 2007

I fell asleep with my hand resting on Mums stomach last night, feeling
your movements in my hand and going up my arm. Im not sure how much
this reality has sunk in yet. Right now you are more an expectation
than a reality. You are, as I call it, a bump. Our lives are not as yet
turned inside out so normalcy is maintained. These last months heading
to Christmas are like the final breath in. Or is it the calm before
the storm! Well that is how everybody describes it, however I have
discovered that I do not always react in the same way as others do.

Should I be giving advice in this diary? I tend to think no. If I have
done my job properly then you can think for yourself, and looking at
Grandpa Baker I have learnt that when you ask your father too many
questions seeking advice as your Mother used to, it puts the father in a
difficult position. He feels as if he has to continue being Daddy and
protector. He has to invest himself in those decisions and eventually
feels like he has to start offering advice when its not wanted and
becomes upset when advice is not asked for. You are responsible for
yourself, and I cannot be your inner voice for you. I will have
instilled my advice purely by being there as an influence. Your Dad has
a keen interest in the concept of Karma. However at times I like to
give Karma a helping hand. This could very well get me into a lot of
trouble. Your Mum is good at checking me before I wreck me. In the end
though you should trust that if someone is doing the wrong thing,
inevitably the pain they give others will be returned to them.

I wonder if you have noticed just how many screwed up people there are
out there. It all comes back to losing your compass. You need to keep
the essence of your life goals simple. Never lose your ability to
self-reflect. Try seeing life through different eyes. Keep learning and
playing with your personality until the day you die. We define
ourselves by our limitations, so don't create limitations that do not
need to be there just because of some ridiculous need to be comfortable
about who you are. People who say they don't like a genre of music,
or wont read a certain type of book, or people who say "im the type of
person who…" ARGGHHHH. Why deny yourself a learning experience just
because that experience may not give you pleasure or may not fit into
your definition of who you are. If you hate sci-fi, read one through
the eyes of someone who does love sci-fi then. Expand your personality
to include contradictions and one day you may find that your definition
of a thing has changed. We define ourselves by our limitations. What
will yours be and why. You are not this personality, you are not this
mind or these conditionings. You are the spirit, it reaches beyond time
and thought. It also reaches beyond any religion or spiritual path
(just my opinion). I write this paragraph and start to realise that
words can be so limiting and elusive of the facts. I have tried to live
this paragraph all my life, how can I possibly capture the flavour, the
essence of this belief and experience. I guess it will have to be
enough to simply tell you that I am talking about every minute of every
day and how you choose to comport yourself.

Biggest laugh I have ever had. Back in Vermont when I was about 10 or
11. Dad and I used to play carpet bowls (have we played? I hope so. I
have probably told you this story by now). It was a great corridor for
this game and we used to play it a lot. This particular game was very
close. It came down to my last bowl to save myself from a humiliating
defeat at the hands of my tyrant father/competitor, who was showing my
no mercy. I took a deep breath, gauged the correct lean of the bowl and
considered the force required to get my bowl to hit Dads bowl which was
closest to the jack. Using my skills in advanced geometry I calculated
the correct angle required taking into account which way the wind was
blowing down the corridor and compensating for any sudden Chihuahua
activity. I was a statue of concentration, cool and calm. Slowly my
arm went back, then forward to release the bowl from steady finger
tips. It ran true and sure towards its destination. The tension was
thick in the air, I could see my fathers shoulders tense up from the
corner of my eye, he sucked in air between his teeth and held it there.
The great working machine that is the universe stopped its eternal
operations as every living thing held its breath (or whatever
equivalent it has) in anticipation. The bowl maintained its straight
course to the right of the jack and it looked like I had not gauged the
weight correctly, it was going to run right past the other bowls and
continue through to the bedroom and ruination. Hope was fading. However
at the last second the bowl tipped to the left and ran suddenly in the
direction of the cowering oppositions bowl. With a resounding click my
bowl struck true, pushing my fathers bowl with deadly precision into
another then another. In one move I had decimated his winning position.
Placed closest within range of the shining white jack were three of my
bowls. I had saved the universe and all creatures great and small,
sentient and non-sentient praised me with great praise. Slowly I raised
myself up to my full height, looked to my opponent with winning eyes
that only a complete smart arse could, and presented him my raised
fists in victory. I left him standing there in a trembling rage as I
walked down the corridor to claim my victorious bowls. I sunk down on
one knee and picked them up as I giggled with mirth. Little did I know
that your Grandfather was not taking this loss with a sense of dignity
and constraint. Because he suddenly ran down the corridor in his bare
feet and like an AFL star running towards goal decided to treat my
backside like it was a Sherren football and kick me into the middle of
next week. Or that was the plan anyway. What actually happened was that
instead of kicking me in my soft rump he misjudged (he was blind as a
bat even back then) his aim and instead his foot met with the heal of
my shoe. There was a sickening *snap* as my opponents toe met with an
immovable object and broke. I turned around to see him hopping madly on
one foot while clutching his other with both hands. "Arghh", he
screamed. "Shit shit shit". I burst into laughter which did not help
his mood, he then bizarrely proceeded to continue hopping around from
room to room screaming in pain and clutching his foot. It was simply
the funniest sight I have ever seen. Why he kept hopping around
different rooms I will never understand, but it just made it that much
more hilarious. A few days later I got a call from him screaming "you
broke my bloody toe". You can imagine my response. I believe the words
'titty' and 'tough' were used.