A Brief History Of Joel

So, tonight I can't sleep and when I can't sleep, I blog.

I've decided that I shall write or attempt to write, a short autobiography. I doubt that it will be anything new to my close friends, but to people who have only known me for a short time, well, it might be interesting and a little informative. I doubt you will believe that some of it is true.

I was born in Melbourne in a hospital I assume, and was given the name "Ray Hollands" by my father, after his. I was also given the name "David Hollands" by my mother, which naturally caused a slight kerfuffle given that my father had a different name lined up. But after what I can only assume was a very nice and completely reasonable argument, they both decided that if they couldn't give me their chosen name, then they would pick the most ridiculous name they could think of. Thus I was named "Joel Bartholomew Brian Hollands".

The newly named Joel lived in a house in a place called "Fern Tree Gully" with his two years older sister and mother and father. I've never been there since then, and I can't remember anything about it whatsoever, as we soon moved to Sydney for reasons that I can only assume seemed like a good idea at the time.

Mostly my life can be measured in Jackets. I've always felt a special attachment to that particular piece of clothing.

Early Child-hood:

THE GIANT RED JACKET I THOUGHT WAS GOING TO EAT ME WHEN I PUT IT ON.

Mum bought me this jacket, second hand, that was meant for a much larger boy. Bright red, I thought that when I put it on it would one day swallow me up and I'd never be seen again.

I can remember very little of my childhood before 7, but lets just say it was "defining".

but after 7 this is what I've got for you. My childhood home in Milperra Sydney was built alongside a golf course. Golf balls regularly flew in through the windows and glass went everywhere, it was awesome. The number of roof tiles we had to get replaced due to golf balls bordered on ludicrous, and the roof repair man had what I can only assume a very profitable trade out of the golf course manager who paid for the damages to all the houses.

I went to church every Sunday untill I was 9 at "Panania gospel chapel". Though right now, I do believe in and love God, it was of absolutely no thanks to that place. The sermons and singing was more covered in dust than the uncomfortable pews, and the population of the church had an average age of 90. Sunday school was as dull as broken clock. What we mostly did there was memorize bible verse after ceaseless bible verse and I, being quite good at memorizing things even then, was often called up and told to recite. Occasional amusing intentional changes to the bible made the children laugh and caused a lot of frowns to the teacher.

Example: "The Lord is my shepard's pie, I shall not be in want of pie"

(which is the kind of humor that children sitting in a hot shed reading quite dull things on a sunny Sunday afternoon really, really appreciate.)

I went to school at Sutherland shire Christian school. I learned some things, like how to get bullied and how to not do maths very well. My first best

friend was Matthew McAllister, blonde and ratty, we had plenty of shenanigans, like eating everyone else's sandwiches and provoking bees. His parents could not afford to continue to send him to a private school however, so Matthew left Sutherland shire for a public school. My hair began to change colour when Matthew left, from light brown to darker, and with the absence of my friend I was a fat little boy that nobody liked because he was "weird" and "stupid".

I haven't seen Matthew for many years, but I know from a family friend that he is an apprentice carpenter now. I don't know if we would still get on, but I wish him only the best.

Later Child-hood:

THE GREY HOODY THAT REALLY DID NOT SUIT ME EVEN SLIGHTLY.

Mum once again is responsible for this purchase, and even though I loathed it, I had to wear it when we first went to Canberra because I was so damn cold.

When I was 9 my mother and father separated for reasons that I can't write down. suffice to say, my dad went to Queensland and mum had to work back to back shifts nursing, so that she could feed her two children. My mother's mother (affectionately know to us as "Granpy") looked after me and my sister while mum was working, at her house in Revsby. My grandmother was the first person I have ever met that was not a Christian, she was agnostic, being unwilling to believe in anything she couldn't see, but not willing to deny the existence of something that her daughter, late husband and sons did believe in so very fervently.

When dropping us back at her daughter's home one evening, she discovered mum lying convulsing on the carpet of her room. She had been there three days, unconscious and in seizure. Ambulances were called and it was discovered that mum had a brain tumor in the front left of her brain, a "Glioma" I think it was called which induced this violent seizure. The tumor, though relatively small, had tentacles stretching out, making it difficult to remove. If mum survived the operation on her skull, she would probably never speak again.

I never remember being afraid for my mother. I do however remember this odd thing. I was living with my mother's brother on the 13th floor of a high rise apartment building in Sydney. I and my sister had been told that mum was very very sick, and that she might die. My sister, who was exhausted because she was helping somewhat more that I had been, being older, with the organisation of clothes and suchlike was very much asleep. Our Uncle and Aunt were also asleep. I was completely incapable of such a thing, and went to the kitchen, being hungry.

In the kitchen was a man. I can't describe to you what he looked like, but he was very tall, taller than my father, because he had to stoop in the low ceiling. He said to me, "Joel, don't worry, everything will be fine". He made me a bowl of cereal, which I ate, I said "thank-you" to the man. He sat with me while I ate it, then he washed up my bowl and spoon, dried them, put them away, and left my uncle's apartment. I then went to bed and slept the night through.

I don't know if this man really existed or not. I am the first person to admit that I am not entirely in ownership of all my marbles. However, I find it hard to believe that I could hallucinate a full stomach and a bowl of cereal, "Just Right " cereal or maybe cornflakes, I think it was, so very completely. I don't know exactly what happened that night, and you don't have to believe me if you don't want to.

Mum made a full recovery from the surgery, but has some residual scar tissue and a hole in her brain. She has epilepsy as a result which and she takes medication for it. After chemotherapy and radiotherapy and seven years of scans of her brain, there has been no regrowth of the tumor. The doctors say that it is extremely uncommon recovery and next year she will be officially cured. Or was that this year? I'm a terrible son.

Anyway. We moved to Canberra after a brief stint my dad's mother's home, (she had died some years ago) with him in it. This house was eventually sold and the profit was split between me, my sister, dad, mum and dad's brother. My dad still lives in Sydney in Revsby. I go up to see him now and then.

When we moved, I went to trinity Christian school in Canberra.

Early Adolescence:

THE BLUE JACKET THAT LOOKS KIND OF LIKE HARRY POTTER'S IN 'THE PRISONER OF AZKABAN' MOVIE.

I picked this one out after I threw out the hoody for being too horrible. I still have it, it is much loved and full of holes.

Trinity is an odd school. It claims to do certain things, does others. It builds far to many buildings on too small an amount of land. Also I hated it.

I only hated it because I had to do things there I despised.

The thing I hated most about trinity was the shoes. God I hated those fuckers. I went through one pair every six months, just after they started to be comfortable, and start to fall to bits. Useless, useless shoes. I never tied up the laces, I didn't see the point.

I made a few very, very good friends there. A few people were casually cruel, but, even though I was no longer fat, I was still weird. So it makes sense.

It was in this time that I discovered that in certain mental faculties I am less than what one would call normal. I always kind of guessed that you aren't supposed to hear voices in your head but, well, I it really sort of cinched it for me when I found out exactly how it was that I was different, and at first I freaked out a bit, but I'm okay with it now. I don't take any medication for personal reasons, and I cope with it by blogging. And breathing. And painting. And occasionally not coping.

There isn't a lot to say about trinity. I had a great drama teacher, who is awesome, particularly in the production of "Arsenic And Old Lace". Also of note was my Sose teacher, equally epic, but different. If either of you are reading this, thank-you very much for teaching me, particularly when I didn't want to be taught. But, ah, I hope Mr S. isn't reading this, because if he is on my blog, I need to erase all the swearing and other things of that nature. I'm pretty sure my other teacher is both more likely to be reading this, as I think his daughter is one of of my occasional followers. Also I don't think he'd give a damn that I use the f word on my blog.

But of far greater note was one of my maths teachers. Oh yes.

Names hidden naturally, but this teacher was one in a stupidly large number. and this was why. She didn't teach us anything. Ever. I cannot remember one single thing in a years worth of private education.

To teach us the 'box and whisker plot' she wrote the definition of Box and the definition of Whisker and expected us to get on with it. She gave us phenomenally long breaks that many students did not come back from at all.

We spent all our time burning things with a magnifying glass, which she never ever ever noticed.

My whole book for that year is just full of cartoons and scribbles and elephants with top hats.

She would leave the class mid-lesson and not come back, seem to not care that we were talking one minute, then shout at us all to be quiet the next.

Once in her class she told us the plot of "the lion king" for a double lesson.

On another occasion, raising my hand I told her that I had a headache, and that I wanted a panadol from sick bay. She responded with "Yes Joel, you are sick. This whole country is sick, and it is only with Jesus' help that it can be healed." which left me confused and still with a headache.

A great many things happened in that maths class. None of them maths.

After year ten I moved from trinity to Tuggeranong College. And I can say without hyperbole that it was the most fun I have ever had in my entire life.

Later Adolescence:

THE 'JOEL JACKET', BLACK, COMPLETE WITH COLOURFUL BADGES.

This Jacket I picked for its huge internal pockets and the colour (black). I wore it every day for 6 months. I shoved all sorts of things into its pockets and covered its front left with badges from land-speed records and song-land. Oh how I loved it. Towards the end it was held together with gaffa tape and regular sewing.

Tuggeranong was a much needed change from trinity. For the first time in my life I could go places, eat tasty things, see people, have fun and generally be an ill behaved young hoodlum.

I met lots of highly fascinating people at tuggers, some of whom found me equally fascinating. I did certain inadvisable things that I hope my mother never finds out about. However I would like to say that I have not yet ever tried any recreational chemicals. Apart from home brand cola. Damn that stuff is good.

One of my favorite aspects of school there was art. I have always loved to make things, and then it was that I realized that I could possibly make money from my apparently useless talent. Not much money, no. But some. I swanned around that art room like I owned the place and no body really argued. Painting after painting was churned out by my paint brush under the vague guidance of my brain. And some of them I'm even slightly proud of.

A friend of mine, at the beginning of the year, showed me his blog, "My Thoughts In Yellow Panels". Inspired, I started my own blog, which I called "The Sky Sailor's Handbook". The above picture, The Flying Ship, I have always loved. I have a bizarre attraction towards ships. I think if I ever actually sailed on own my feelings would be quite different. Next to my signature in many of my paintings, there is a little ship.

Right Now:

THE TRENCH COAT OF TERRIBLE DOOM.

I purchased this coat from a friend who was working in the shop, and he gave me staff discount. It was $32. It is long, black, woolen and I feel so very swanky when I wear it. What a tool I am.

So that's pretty much it. It isn't my whole life, but that's about as much as I could fit in without my fingers snapping off onto my keyboard. If you got to the very end, I'm impressed, also I'm sorry because you are probably bored to TEARS. And it only took one sleepless night to write. So, cheerioh, Thanks for reading, and tune in next time for more bloggotry.

Joel Trivia:

Joel likes his steaks very rare.

Joel's watch is the most valuable thing he owns.

Joel's tobacco tin belonged to his great grandfather.

Joel does not celebrate Christmas, he celebrates Hogswatch.

Joel's favorite colour is brown.

Joel has a hat, he just never wears it.

In this past year, an estimated 13o liters of cola was consumed by Joel. That's right. One hundred and thirty liters.

Joel has never had any problems with his teeth.