Roll Away Your Stone, I'll Roll Away Mine

I have a love/hate relationship with this blog. I love it because it gives me a reason to write down everything I've been doing, and an easy way to recall everything I've done.

I hate it because I constantly have to keep up to date on it, otherwise, I'll be posting weeks of material into something digestible. I'm already asking a lot from you if you even read the damn thing, much less for you to put up with the continuing story of a twenty year old running around Australia.

Also, I get the feeling that as some of you learn snippets of the stuff I do, you expect me to write something exciting and elaborate about it. Honestly, if I told you the highlight, that's it. I can make a boring story sound interesting, but in the end, it is still a boring story.

Either way, here's what I've been up to...

Last time we spoke, I had a post about Church, about dreading turning twenty, and Brisbane. We'll tackle it in reverse and hopefully catch up to today.

I traveled to Brisbane on January 21, for the Chinese New Year Celebration that evening.

Upon my return the next day, I learned about the passing of a young man I went to school with, so the week wasn't exactly the easiest to handle. It was spent making phone calls and sending text messages to loved ones, gathering information about the service and learning the circumstances of his death. I hadn't seen the guy in months, and we were far from best friends, but he had a place in my life, and that is what made his death different from the millions that happen every day.

Other than that, the week, if I remember, was fairly unremarkable. I went to church that Sunday and the Prayers of the People included prayers for those affected by drugs. Those who have harmed themselves and harmed others by being trapped in that cycle. We prayed for those who lost their life in the process, and, honestly, that is where I started to break down. Like I said earlier, I lost contact with Charles years ago, and I only saw him on occasion here and there. He was my polar opposite in every way, and I hated to watch his potential squandered by poor decisions. I didn't like him, and if you've known me for a while, I've felt that way since the 6th Grade. He was mean and crude and if you weren't on his side, you were the enemy. After his death, I learned a bit more about his life. I learned how he hated the cycle he was in, and how he would screw people over for his own gain, much to his own dismay. My biggest regret is that, as a class, we didn't, or couldn't, help him. But, hopefully, his death will do what we've needed to do for a while. Our class needed to get back together. We need one another more than we can even comprehend, and Charlie's death opened the line of communication once again.

Rest in Peace Charles Dale Ewing III, you've needed it for a long time.

The week of the 30th (Aussies start their weeks on Monday, so I figured I would too), I had an interview with the Tech Activities Board, but that didn't pan out. Contrary to popular belief, I'm not upset about the result in the least. A great person got the position, and I know she'll do a wonderful job. Besides, it'll be good to have a fairly stress-free fall semester.

(Honestly, I don't remember all of this, so I have to go back and forth between this and my photos to piece everything together!)

Ok, the next big event is called Palaver. It is put on by the Business Students Association and was titled "Studio 54." The email laid out the theme with a few simple key words, "Jive, step, slide, bump, shimmy. Hustle. Disco fox!" If you know me at all, I was musically raised in classic rock and disco, among tons of other genres. So I threw on some boogie shoes, shaved me some wicked sideburns (I've always wondered how I would look with them, so I figured now is as good a time as any!), and headed on down to one of the funnest nights I've had. Under strict confidentiality reasons, I am not at liberty to say what exactly went on at Palaver, but if you're interested, approach me with the key phrases, "Palaver…$21,000…burgers and pizza…GoGo Dancer."

I like to think that she was charmed by my dancing and boldness to jump up and join her…
Security, on the other hand, was not so impressed

And no… I didn't get kicked out.


After that, I went to Byron Bay on Friday, February 3, to learn how to surf. Now, in the past, I think my father hoped that I would have picked up his skateboarding abilities. I can remember taking my little skateboard out onto the sidewalk, and attempting, miserably, I might add, to ride the stupid thing…I gave up a few weeks later.


Surfing, I was told, is a lot like skateboarding, so I didn't have much faith. On the bright side, if you fall, you land in the ocean as opposed to the hot sidewalk in your front yard. After a Saturday morning session of drinking, snorting, and inhaling salt water, I went back for round two in the afternoon. Much to my pleasure, and surprise, I stood up on the huge foam board. I think I only stood up once in the afternoon, but I didn't care. I did it! When that session was over, we kicked back and watched some really disturbing Slip-And-Slide routines.


Sunday morning was much better, the waves seemed to cooperate more, and I was drinking much less salt water than the previous day. This time, I wasn't focused on whether or not I was capable of standing up on a surf board, this time it was all for the photographer. If I stood up, I made sure the camera lady was within shooting distance, and I threw my Guns Up like they were going out of style. I haven't ordered the picture yet, but there is a photo of me, standing on a board, in the ocean, with my Guns Up. Definitely one to frame and put on my desk at work.

They paved paradise and put up…a beach.

Tuesday, the 7th, was my birthday. It was a simple day. Woke up, got a haircut, ate a kebab, went to class, took a nap, met everybody downstairs, went to watch live karaoke at the nearby watering hole. Everyone I came to Australia with got up on stage at one point and sang me happy birthday, which was more than I could ask of anyone. We stayed until the place closed, then I called it a night, as I had class the following morning. Like I told a friend of mine, I didn't know any of these people in December, and now, I can't imagine my life without a single one.

The Aussies call me "Texas." Ironically, everyone in this picture is American.

Oh, and I went skydiving on the 18th. Again, it sounds a lot more exciting than it really is. I relate it to riding a really long version of The Titan at Six Flags. You go up, and up, and up, up, up, up, up, up. Then, when you reach the top, you can take a quick breath as you ease your way to the edge. Then, without anticipation, you're falling. And after a bit of falling, the rail picks up the roller coaster, and you move on. Same thing with skydiving. After a bit of falling, the instructor opens the chute, and you glide down for a few minutes until you make a smooth landing in the grass. I have a video, but YouTube won't let me put it up. If you want to watch it, I'll show you when I get home.

It was around this point where I truly accepted what I was about to do

I guess that's about it. I booked a trip to Uluru for the middle of March. That was interesting, only because I was caught in the middle of false advertising and called a company out on it. Since they didn't immediately cancel my transaction, it is in the credit card company's hands to deal with them. I'm sure Adventure Tours Australia is a fine company, but take everything you read with a grain of salt. Nothing pisses me off more than being told I owe $245 more because I booked "the wrong tour." No, Adventure Tours, I didn't book "the wrong tour." You sold me "the wrong tour," and didn't tell me until after the fact that it was "the wrong tour." I hope you have fun dealing with a bone fide American credit card company.


That's about where we are today. Caught in the middle of midterms and a credit battle. The next post, I'm sure, will be about midterms and possibly Australian night life. I have some pretty good stories about going out, so look forward to that. I apologise for such a long post, but at least I'm back on track.

Nothing says, "Anticipation" like a huge door in the middle of a sketchy alley

With Their Bright Airy Narthex and Light Flaky Eucharist!

As many of you know, I'm a cradle Episcopalian. Baptised shortly after my birth, confirmed at 14, and elected a delegate to Convention at 18, I was raised with a firm tie to the Episcopal church, even attending an Episcopal school during my elementary and middle school years. I went on three mission trips with the church: one to Tennessee, one to the boarder of Texas, and one to Amarillo. I've had strong relationships with most of my priests, one's wife even took me on a tour of A&M when I was college hunting, and I do my best to maintain that relationship.

Through Rich, I learned that a priest should also be your friend.

The reasons people go to church fascinate me. I was required to take Religion in Middle School, and the man pictured above taught it. I learned so much not only about Christianity, but about all the other major religions as well. I'm sure if I were to ask each one of you why you go to church, or why you don't, I'll get many different answers. Some go because they have to, some go to solidify that connection with God, some go to fill a hole in their life, and so on and so forth.

I need you to read this, if you don't, the next paragraph won't make sense...

Part of me agrees with Carlin. Religion, in its own sense, has made itself an idol. There are a number of churches and priests who have abused the system to simply put their name on the religious map. A few years ago, I rarely went to church. I only went when I was on the schedule to acolyte, and even then, I made it just before the service started. I didn't see a point to it. I didn't like getting out of bed on a Sunday just to stand or sit or kneel and sing or pray to the air. Besides, I was going to chapel five times a week, wasn't that enough? I wasn't sure if there even was a God, and I didn't want to invest my time or energy in something I wasn't even sure I believed. But as I got older, I discovered the truth. Life isn't about money, nor is it about the building you go to or the person who says they know the answers. It is about people, about living, about enjoying every opportunity you are given and every opportunity you make.

Coming to Australia, I wanted to find an Episcopal church to visit, just to see if the friendliness I experienced at home extended across international boundaries. In America, we call it the Episcopal church, everywhere else, it is known as the Anglican church. Fortunately, there is a church not too far away called "Trinity Anglican Mission" and I figured I would start there. The service, liturgy, and prayers are similar to those at home, so that was comforting. But above all else, the people are just as friendly here as they are at home.

The other plus is that it is right next to the bus stop!

When I showed up Sunday morning, I was welcomed by the greeter and asked a little about my background, whether or not I was visiting, where I was from, etc. I made a name tag and waited in the narthex for the service to begin. As I waited, more people came up and introduced themselves to me, welcoming me as if I was a cousin at a family reunion. Some asked me if I had enough food where I was staying, and others offered to help me format papers if I ran into any issues while I was here. I was introduced to a law professor and a marketing professor at Bond, along with different staff members from the university. The priest, Malcolm, is from England, and relatively new to the congregation. After the service, he and I talked for a while about Texas and the similarities between services. When I went back a few weeks later, I approached him after the service asking for a birthday blessing, something I was so used to at home. He was ecstatic about giving a birthday blessing, saying that this church takes more of an English approach to birthdays, they come, but nobody really brings it up. I explained that at home, the priest calls everyone with a birthday or anniversary to the altar and gives a personal blessing to each and every person or couple. After the blessing, I was invited to coffee by a few of the church members and I was able to sit down and talk with people from all walks, including a family from Malaysia, a couple who had been married for 54 years, and a couple who seem to view me as a long time friend as opposed to a visitor.

So why do I go to church now? I go because I love the people. That's it, that's my secret. I love everything about the Episcopal church, I love that we're accepting and helpful and generous and kind. I love that we have the ability to accept that we may be wrong about a lot of things. In a recent email, I explained that I find that the nicest, most open, and friendly people go to church. So, in that twisted view, I follow Jesus' statement of, "When two or three are gathered in my name, I am in the midst of them." If I find religion anywhere, it is with friends. It isn't in who tells the best story or who knows the most Bible versus, to me, God doesn't care. He doesn't care if you've read His book 100 times or never even cracked the spine. He cares that you love one another. If I went to a church where I didn't feel welcome, I don't think I would be able to call myself religious or even Christian. I'm just thankful that I found religion on my first try.

If you had any preconceived notions about Episcopalians, throw them out the window. These are Episcopalians.

Life Is What Happens To You While You're Busy Making Other Plans

Again, I'm going to take this opportunity and digress from my typical Australian blog to write something completely off topic.

Tomorrow is my birthday.

And ever since I turned 19, I wanted to put off 20 as much as possible. I loved the "discovery" that comes with being a teenager. I loved learning how to interact with people, how to build friendships and relationships. It is weird to me that the friends I made as a teenager may very well be in my wedding party, the godparents of my children, and the people I would want around when I die. I would do anything for the people I met as a teenager, and that seems like something a teenager doesn't even contemplate. When I met my friends, I had no idea how much they would end up meaning to me. My friends are my life and my family. My biggest fear in life is losing my friends and being alone.

Every other picture was way too serious

Part of me thinks that turning 20 will bring a loss of spontaneity, because I don't know how I can top all that I did as a teenager.

In my last year as a teenager, I picked up my violin and returned to the stage to perform in "I Love You, You're Perfect, Now Change." I forgot how much I loved the theatre and my instrument, and it was through a spontaneous, "Yeah, I still know how to play," that led me to do it.

We got pretty good at yelling

I went to Chicago with my dad on a fairly spontaneous trip. Originally, my best friend and I were going to make the journey up for Lollapalooza, and while we were planning, my dad sent a text saying, "HEY Son, I'm not trying to crash your trip, but SOME of those BANDS fit my STYLE!? Think I can COME ALONG?" (My father has some of the more hysterical texts to read) When Ken couldn't make it, it was just my dad and I catching the flights up to Chicago, manoeuvring our way around the huge city to find where we were staying and the park where the concert was, and that weekend was a weekend I wouldn't trade for the world.

Just preparing for Eminem, no big deal 

I discovered fraternity and sorority life as a teenager. Though not pledging to any fraternity, I had the opportunity to work with a number of them to finally crown the 2011 Homecoming King and Queen.

You know, hanging on the sideline with the King and Queen

I moved out of the country as a teenager. As you know, if you've read any of this blog, I'm in Australia, studying abroad in Gold Coast. I left not knowing a soul, and, a month later, I feel like I've known these other students for years. I realise that the point of studying abroad is to meet the local people and understand their culture and whatnot, but I think that is only half of it. The other half is befriending those who are in the same boat as you. 70 strangers across the Pacific together, and when we return, 70 friends will take root in their own state.

We are the 10 best friends that anybody could have!

The last monumental thing I did as a teenager was learned how to surf, and I'm ok with that. I'm glad that it was that and not something stupid. I'm glad that all the work I did as a teenager led to me learning a new skill in a new country with new people.

20 will be something new. And I've come to like something new. Something new took me to Chicago and Australia, something new taught me how to surf and allowed me to hold a koala, and something new will send me somewhere else to do something else. Come good or bad, it'll be here in about 8 hours.

But, as the Australians say…

"No Worries"