the sound of green

The weather outside isn’t frightful. It’s a beautiful summer day. Clear skies abound with warm sunshine, and a gentle breeze gently wafts through the open windows. It’s fast approaching mid-December, and somehow the “Christmas cheer” hasn’t reached me yet. Our shopping hasn’t even been started, though there is a master list that has every purchased planned out. Carols don’t fill the music coming from our computers. Wandering the shops seems somehow surreal, as if everyone else has jumped on board the Christmas bandwagon and somehow we’ve been left behind.

I’m usually a lot more receptive to Christmas. I went through a period of a couple of years where it wasn’t the most wonderful time of the year. Not that I had anything against it, but I didn’t hold onto that excitement and wonder as December approached, and the whole situation seemed more of a somewhat amusing anecdote than a side-splitting laughter inducing tale of hilarity. That changed when I met Beth, when having a significant other made the whole season a lot more joyous. There were presents to be given. Presents to be received. Presents that didn’t come from parents or family members, and hadn’t been expected due to our usual early-December “what do you want?” conversations. The last few years have been exciting at Christmas; the last two moreso as we’ve enjoyed them as a married couple. This year however, the uptake is slow.

The Christmas tree has been delayed. While we don’t hold to a fixed tradition of sorts, it usually goes up around the first weekend of December, and serves as the signpost of a transition into the yuletide season. Putting the tree up has been something we’ve done with our housemates, as they share our tree each year, whether that be from us being the more sentimental ones, or simply the more organised. Christmas music of some description fills the air as we talk, laugh, assemble and decorate. This year the first couple of weeks have seen us with the house to ourselves, as our housemates have been up in Queensland, spending an early Christmas with one side of their family. As much as we’ve wanted to get into things, it seems wrong to put the tree up without them.

There’s been speculation of what it will be like this year. Our housemates’ son is now over a year old, and is walking and trying to talk. He helps unpack the dishwasher, picking up each glass, plate or bowl and handing it to you with a noise as closely approximating a thank you as he can manage. Pegs are his other speciality, handing them to you one at a time as the washing is hung out. We’ve considered whether he’ll get into the spirit of the season with us, and unpack the decorations, handing them to whoever ends up decorating the tree. As it turns out, he’s in his high chair on the dining table, eating his food, as we get around to it.

A Friday afternoon comes around, and we’re all finally home and free at the same time. The box is dragged out of the roof, and the tree begins its assembly. Upon something akin to forethought, we realise that the full-erected tree won’t fit into the planned space without cutting off most of the major thoroughfare for upstairs – a bad idea, as nice as it may look. Bookcases are unpacked, entertainment units unplugged, and furniture is moved around in an attempt to rearrange the living areas to fit the 7-foot tree. After 10 minutes of sweating, we sheepishly realise that the now completely rearranged furniture needs to go back to its original configuration, with a mere single bookcase moved to the opposite wall to accommodate the tree. Ten minutes more, and we’re all set to continue.

Music is put on, the windows are opened, drinks and snacks make their way upstairs, and we begin to ease into things. The form of the tree is quickly assembled, and the decorations soon follow. Laughter flows, smiles are fixed to our faces, and the tree takes shape. I sit back and soak it up as Beth finishes decorating the tree.

I’m happy. Our tree is a catalyst, and I’m finally starting to get into the mood. I find myself becoming more expectant, looking forward to the next two weeks before Christmas finally arrives. A quick walk down to our local supermarket soon after leaves me happy, joyous and filled with Christmas cheer, as I realise the decorations are a great idea, and not preemptive marketing. A smile fixes itself to my face as I arrive home and view our completed tree. It finally feels like Christmas.

Beth reads all of my posts before they go live. It’s not something that has always been the case, but of late I’ve either handed my laptop to her, or sat her down at my desk to gauge her thoughts before I hit post. I’m not even entirely sure why I do it – it’s not like anything I’m writing oversteps boundaries, or over shares any information in our marriage. But after two and a bit years of marriage, I’ve gotten used to getting her opinion on things.

Our relationship is something that from the outside may seem a bit quirky, but it’s the most special thing to me. We have our own way of doing things, our individual way of journeying through life together, that sometimes makes others scratch their heads. But they don’t know us as well as we do, and they have every insight into how we function.

Eight months after our wedding, we headed down to Inverloch with my family for a few days away – an attempt to reclaim some form of a family holiday. We shacked up in a beach town during the middle of winter – not smartest of ideas, to be entirely honest, but the heater kept us warm. I remember waking up each morning before Beth and reading out in the lounge, leaving her to sleep in peace. When she did wake, I made our breakfast, and we ate together.

I remember my Mum looking at me as I made breakfast each morning, not entirely understanding what was going on. Whether it was bemusement, or trying to figure out just how we worked, I distinctly remember thinking that no matter what she was thinking, she didn’t know our relationship’s dynamic. We have our own way of doing things, we have our own method of going about life. If that’s different to everyone else or not, I don’t care. It’s what gets us through.

Recently we’ve both been noticing how we have a tendency to say the same thing at the same time when in a group of people. Sometimes it’s a reaction to something that’s happen, or an (attempted) witty comment. It’s happened enough times of late that now we laugh at it. Before we tied the know, It may have been a sure fire sign that we spent too much time together. Now, I see it happening and I’m proud. I’m proud we get to spend so much time together. I’m proud we enjoy each other’s company so much that we still want to hang out with each other every day. I’m proud of the way we live our life.

A colleague of mine commented for a while about how she loved that Beth and I take off together, whenever we can. Whether it be a week on the beach, some time with friends interstate, or just a night in a hotel, we grab any chance to stay somewhere new with both hands. My colleague commented how she loved that we both prioritised going away together, and did it as much as we could, both in financial and scheduling sense. It is one of my favourite things to do with Beth – to the point where we’ll drive two hours to have lunch in a restaurant in Portarlington.

Time together is something that doesn’t grow old. I work from home each afternoon, sharing my work hours almost equally between the office, and our study – and I love the fact that I get to be home with Beth during the afternoons. She works from home as well, and although we may not be constantly talking, there is something about sitting in the same space as my wife that gives me a peace. The ability to work from home is something that I am unimaginably grateful for – and I’m sure that will only grow as Bop is born, and we begin the next journey together.

I’ve often claimed that I would love to be a stay at home dad. I would love to be around as much as I can with our kids when they are growing up (yes, I said kids. We want more than one!). And what I once thought was going to be a lofty dream, a reality only if we put off having kids until we were in a place where I could work for myself, we find ourselves in the situation where it’s as close to being a reality as we could ever ask an employer for. Safe in the knowledge that my afternoons will be spent being on-hand to help Beth with Bop, I am all the more excited for this baby of ours to be born. And all the more excited to be with Beth as we go through it all.

We thrive on time together. It’s how we function. It’s why I’ve grown so used to having her around, and all that she brings to everything in my life. She helps me dealing with clients. She gives me input on designs for work. She helps me schedule shoots both for work and for James Burke Photography. She critiques every wedding I shoot, and that is something that continues to grow and stretch me as a photographer, and to make me strive to be better at my craft. She bounces ideas off me, and I bounce my ideas off her. We talk, plan, and dream together. We discuss issues that come up on the website we’re both a part of. She even laughs at how tacky and lame certain Wii games can be while I’m playing them. That’s why she reads my posts. Because I love her insights, love her thoughts, and love that it’s one more thing that we do together.

The last few months, as I’m sure you’ve read by now, have become something of a period of rebirth. I’m rediscovering a lot of things that I hadn’t even noticed had fallen by the wayside – creativity, writing, vision. Even the littler things are starting to come back.

Just before we headed to Coolangatta for our “baby-moon”, we finally decided that the time was right to make one of my dreams a reality, and buy a new TV. We ended up getting a 42″ full HD plasma (theoretically along with a free home theatre system via redemption – though that is an entirely different story), and although it didn’t get much of a workout during that first couple of weeks due to our marked absence, since our return it has been put to good measure.

Now, I don’t want this to come across like we have no lives, spend all our times in front of the TV, or are entirely anti-social. The simple fact of the matter is that we both like watching TV. We’ve both got shows that we enjoy, I’ve then got more shows that I enjoy that Beth won’t go near, but for both of us it’s a relaxant, an escape, and a way to unwind. Being typical Gen-Yers, with no attention span or patience, we end up watching a lot of TV shows that have already screened here, or never made it to our shores. As such, shows are watched season by season, as opposed than the traditional model of an episode a week. Because of that, we crank through shows fairly quickly – and are often on the hunt for a new show to start from the start, and immerse ourselves in. The big beauty of the new TV, is the blu-ray disc recorder that handily has a USB slot. That means anything downloaded can now be watched on the big TV, not on the laptop on the end of the bed. A simple joy, but a joy nonetheless.

Blu-ray has been the big discovery for me. Initially, in my uninformed days, I’d written it off as a gimmick, as something that would be nice but would never lure me in, at least not until it became industry standard, and format governed our ability to find something to watch. However, having watched a movie or three in full high-definition, I am unashamed to admit that I am a total, utter convert. A sell all my posessions and live in a commune type convert. I’m sure being both a past student of TV production, as well as a photographer does make me somewhat more inclined to embrace the extra pixels that come with the definition, but it’s more than a knowing technical acknowledgement that courses through my mind while I’m watching 1080p. There’s a brilliance that returns to the screen, a clarity that I often even find lacking in the cinemas, especially to an eye that makes it money from focussing. And, nerdy admission though it may be, it’s brought back a passion for movies.

For the past several years, I’ve seen most films that are released at the cinemas. By most, I generally preclude any overtly kid-only films, or in days before Beth anything that required a female’s company to enjoy, but I watched a lot. My usual dilemma when going to the cinemas wouldn’t be what time to see the film I wanted, but whether or not there’s anything in a slightly-obscure cinema screening a film that I haven’t seen yet. Even after marriage, this continued. Beth worked in retail, and had an unavoidable Friday night shift, and a Sunday shift – and both made perfect movie-going time. I’m fairly sure that in most circles of friends I pioneered the solo trip to the cinemas, and am quite an advocate for seeing a movie for yourself. Sure, I prefer to go with Beth any day of the week, but for a movie that you want to see, no one to see it with should never be an excuse. With Beth no longer working shifts when I’m not at work, my solo cinema trips have dwindled – yet a very good and cheap local video store has been my hero. Yet even with thousands of titles I’ve still yet to see (there is even a list somewhere, I think, of films I still haven’t gotten around to seeing. Mega Shark vs Giant Octopus may just be one of them, Matt – purely for the lols), I’ve found that my borrowing rate has dwindled, to the fact where I went to hire a Wii Game, thinking that surely I must have hired more than the prerequisite 200 DVDs to be entitled to safety-deposit-free game hire, only to find that I was a good 70-odd titles short. My somewhat-hidden guise as a movie freak has slipped.

Tonight, on independent inspection, would seem to be a return to those ‘glory days’. I watched Public Enemies on BD, the day it was released on that format. Of the two other films I’ve seen on BD, it by far eclipsed the mark set by either in terms of clarity, quality and sheer delight in picture quality. I’m not ashamed to admit that it sparked something, too. There’s a part of me inside that is brimming with excitement to crank my way through the ever-growing selection of Blu-Ray titles at our local store; even screening films I’ve seen before simply to enjoy the full picture clarity goodness. That wasn’t the only spark-inducing moment.

Finishing the film, I flicked through the channels to see what was on, and stumbled across Band of Brothers being screened on Channel 7. Not only that, but catching a couple of minutes of it on 7HD has left me wanting more. Band of Brothers is indoubtedly my favourite series of all time, across all denomination of film, tele-movie, television series, etc. I must have watched it over 10 times through all 10, hour-long episodes, and yet will still sit down utterly entranced and watch them all again. There is an excitement and a dread growing inside me for The Pacific, the other series from the same creators, purely for the fact that it could achieve the brilliance that its predecessor does, or it could fall short. But even with my love for the series, catching a glimpse of it in high definition has only served to whet my appetite for more.

I’m a stories guy. I always have been, and I have no doubt that I always will. This is why I watch TV, why I sit entranced through so many movies. I get lost in stories. I can identify with them so easily. I love the extrapolation of humanity that is conveyed through stories – be they simple or far, far reaching. And in a reference to what I was thinking and writing about last, stories beget stories. A rediscovery of that spark to watch, listen, immerse and consume stories is only going to be a good thing for my creativity. And I think that is why I am so excited.