Metanoia:The Beginning

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So I guess my time began at conception which would probably be about November or December 1984. However I wasn’t officially born until August ’85. I was born kicking and screaming into a very loving middle-class family. My father Robert was a fitter and turner, and my mother Wendy was a very loving housewife. I also have a brother Ben who is two years older than me. While I don’t remember much of my childhood I will still try and give you a few background stories of me as a kid, just so you can get an idea of who I am.

One of my earliest memories as a kid had all started many years before this event took place. As a young kid growing up I ran a lot, always running and jumping. I was not special at this, and in fact, most kids do it. Anyways, for years I’d been running freely around the house, with nothing but walls stoping me. I ran around tables, over couches and under the bench. Nothing could stop me.

That is until my growing up got the better of me. One day I was running around, and under the bench were these wooden block thingos that were supporting the bench up, anyway I hit my noggin (head) really hard. I must have grown just that extra millimetre in a relatively short space of time. Then BAM! Knocked me on my arse and into tears. That’s probably the point in which I realised, things change.

So I continued growing up normally, went to a nice little kindergarten called “Little St Margret’s”, which has had my old man, his brothers (George and William) and sister (Nancy) go through it before I attended it. Matter of fact, I’ve got a little story to tell…

My dad’s brother George, has always been a bit of a pyromaniac. For instance; when Guy Fawkes Night was legal and all the rage, my dad and his brothers and sister where letting off fireworks one night. They had them all separated into their fireworks boxes because they got two shillings worth of fireworks or some crap like that. Anyways, they were letting off fireworks one by one, and George thought “Gee, wouldn’t it be funny if I set Nancy’s box on fire”. So with that, George snuck over to Nancy’s box, and, set it on fire. Whilst the resulting fireball and rockets going off everywhere was very humorous to all concerned (except Nancy), it was very, very funny. I mean dangerous.

So anyways, George at Little St Margret’s decided one day that he didn’t like the idea of the so called education of students. So one lunch time he decided to rake the dried up leaves into a corner of the building. Then using (I’m guessing) stolen matches, tried to set the place on fire. Unfortunately he failed at that, and come 30 years later, I was there.

As I said before I had a regular childhood. I started attending Melbourne Grammar School two years later thanks to my granny and my father. I don’t have any fun stories that I can tell you about because I don’t remember really any of the details. I learnt to count, all be it, not very well. That is 1+1=2, 2+2=4, etc. If you don’t know that, well then you probably won’t be reading this… I learnt the times tables. Well what they are: 2x2=4, so that’s two groups of two, and that must equal four. I also enjoyed art, but that would change. Learnt about the pyramids, the planets and all this other stuff.

I also remember when I was seven, my dad asked me “How do you feel now your seven?”. To which I thought: The same as I did yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that and to this day I still feel the same, so I guess I’m still seven. Even after my stroke I still feel seven, but at this stage I’m twenty-seven. That doesn’t worry me tho, children have bigger hearts and opener minds anyway.

I suppose it was at about this stage, maybe a little earlier, that I found out the Easter bunny and Santa Claus weren’t real. This wasn’t a shock after all, I had people telling me they weren’t real, but I chose to listen to my parents and live in a dream world where each Christmas Santa would come drink a beer and eat some cookies, and then leave us a whole heap of gifts. The Easter bunny was the best, he used to come and leave his little rabbit foot prints (made out of talcum powder, and placed there by my dad the night before) and leave HEAPS of CHOCOLATE eggs about. Apparently that was something to do with religion, I forget now but I can’t find anything in the bible that mentions bunny’s delivering chocolate. Then again I, like the pope, have never read the bible.

"We stopped checking for monsters under our bed when we realized they were inside us."
-The Joker

It was at about this time I had a weird experience. I was walking back up the hill to our beach house at Portsea. I wasn’t the rich kid, my grandfather was. He bought a beach house at Portsea, and it’s been in the family ever since. Yeah so I was walking back up the hill from the ‘general store’ to the house, after getting some munchies. I thought that I wasn’t moving, it was the world around me that was moving. I knew then that I was physically moving, but it just didn’t feel like it. Weird I know, but we’re all a little weird.

I also learned to colour in between the lines, to read, write and hide from the physical education teacher. My parents got divorced, which is pretty standard here in Australia. Which I enjoyed because it meant I got to spend every second weekend away from home. Then came year 5 (about age 12) witch I consider a defining point in my life. I should probably go back and explain at Melbourne Grammar, which is an ‘elite’ private school (‘elite’ because it cost a bucket of cash to send your child there per year). I should probably go back here yet again and explain about Kimpton Flour.

Kimpton Flour was one of Australia’s biggest cooking flour companies. Although that was some time ago, and I don’t know too much about it. Besides at some stage our family sold it. All the proceeds went straight to my grandparent’s pockets. So with that, the family decided to send me and my brother to Melbourne Grammar, to continue the legacy of 4 or 5 generations through the school. My view on education is definitely wack, but I think Melbourne Grammar’s view is completely fucked. No child of mine will be attending there, and I would recommend that to everyone. I also know that it will suck the soul out of everybody who goes there. Yet, Pink Floyd said the same thing, so maybe it’s a problem with the education system… Come to think of it, it probably is. I’m still not sending my kids there. Whilst I’ll paint a pretty good picture of it in this book, I’m not going into its bad points, doesn’t mean that they weren’t there.

So anyway, year five (I was about 12 years old) came around and being Melbourne Grammar, we all got laptops. Those computers you have that you can have on your lap, thus a Lap-Top. This was pre-affordable internet days, but that didn’t stop me playing round and tinkering with it. This is what led to my profession of a computer programmer.

Yet again, that is not where this book is heading. So I’ll keep it to a minimum. The essence of a computer is a calculator (that is a device to add, subtract, multiply and subtract). From this simple theory the most complicated things can happen, like the playing of movies, music, and games. Yet, it is so simple mechanically… All it is just heaps of on or off switches (0s or 1s). I want to try to explain everything I have learnt in this life can be summed up using the simplest form.

It was about at this point in life that my religious education (witch id been taking due to the fact Melbourne Grammar is a Church of England school) took a step in the wrong direction and I started thinking for myself. This is probably because of my new love for science; but I’m very glad this happened. I decided for myself that I would make sense of this world, rather listening to some stories that were thousands of years old. I didn’t know how passionately I would feel about religion at this point in my time. I just felt as though it was the right path for me to take. I didn’t know the pain it caused to so many. I will come back to this later on in this book.

"The best teachers are those who show you where to look, but don’t tell you what to see"
-Alexandra K. Trenfor