I have always been a man of seasons, I work hard and rise to the occasion when one arises and the rest of the time do what is needed to get by. Intellectually this resulted in me being pretty lazy with a poor work ethic through school and university. However, I never failed a subject and on occasions for a semester or two I would get pretty stellar marks, before slacking off again.

And of course there were restless nights sometimes thinking about a girl, or simply pulling all nighters partying, playing games or doing school work.

My studies through high school were all centered around mathematics, physics and chemistry, all subjects I was naturally good at. In my undergraduate degree I dabbled in a few subjects that were in political economy. I found them enjoyable and for the first time was needing to keep up consistent performances. For the international development subjects I managed to keep up with the consistent readings, voice my opinions in class, writing essays though was quite the labour. A labour of love,  but a labour nonetheless.

Nevertheless, I managed to get through them, mainly because they were first year undergraduate courses I believe.

After passing university and being recommended by a professor for a water consulting job. I managed to settle into the post-uni life working in the real world as a graduate a global engineering consultancy.

I quickly settled into a great culture with many young cohort, and different social events occurring pretty much every month.

Unfortunately, though the company was over staffed and there wasn’t too much work for me to do. Thus, I got bored and looked at starting efforts towards a Masters in International Relations, not the most practical degree but I figured I wanted to switch lanes and give something else a shot.

It was there in Advanced International relations that my metal was really tested. A 5,000 word essay was expected of me. While we were being spoon fed very little and expected to know how to research and what for.

I was however enjoying the class as I do with those sorts of topics. Thus, I was managing to pull of this class work, a pretty heavy social life and a bit of extra curriculum rugby all at the same time. And things were going pretty good at this stage. That is until I busted my knee for the second time playing rugby.

The first time around I tore my ACL downhill mountain biking, attempting terrain that was beyond my skill level or bikes ability. The second time occurred during a corporate rugby tournament and I found it quite difficult at the time mentally. The first time you bust the knee it is almost a right of passage. You work hard to ensure your knee comes back better than ever. But when it broke for a second time, it is like all your hard work went to waste. It was a character building event no doubt.

This was coupled with the unfortunate timing of having to delay my initial employment training for the military for the second time by two years. Following that I clung onto the only female relationship I had in my life at the time, and she in turn pushed me further away. This led me to a few tears and sleepless nights and shook me up like I haven’t been before. Young and resilient however, I tried to get back on the horse. I did so socially in about two months, but my mental focus took a bit more to recover, I ended up handing in a essay about four to five months late, it was in really poor form and I failed my subject.

So after my first fail in my academic career and the first time on the receiving end of a break up, I took some time off study to give myself a break and time to relax and recover.

The next semester rolled around and I wasn’t going to drop out of my course after one “not so minor” set back. I enrolled in International Political Economy (IPE).

Things were going well for me. My social life was good, and while I was the victim of a few silent calls (where an unknown number would just ring me and not say anything) from time to time, I was generally on an even path.

Pin pointing it now in retrospect if I had to look back, my trouble began a night after having Pizza with the IPE crew at the Kookaburra Café. The night in itself was innocent enough, the food was wholesome and the company grand. It was my intention however to pull an allnighter with the help of some dexamphetamines and complete another dreaded essay. The drugs didn’t work. They were shit. The elevated heart rate wasn’t inductive to creative or analytical thought. They did keep me up however, and have me running up and down the hallways of my work and doing push ups after hours as I tried to type away. (I would now also like to blame L-Carnitine, which I was supplementing at the time).

About this time, I was also seconded to a local utility and worked in a team that was daily facing the challenges of people having their properties and houses literally flooded with shit.

The one dexy, the ladies and the study were affecting my sleep pattern. But I was directly in the clients office talking to their customers each and every day. I saw it as my responsibility and my mission to convey a professional attitude and decorum and I did. For a time anyway.

After several weeks into the secondment I was casually dating one of the administrators whilst trying to continue a professional demeanor with the remainder of the the administrators.

This was difficult however, as I kept on finding errors by one administrator in particular. She was close to the lady I was seeing and I don’t think she was too fond of myself nor my relationship with her friend.

One evening I received a call from one of the clients customers, they were expressing their displeasure at the fact that nothing had been done, despite ringing myself several times and receiving my assurances that something would be done.

That day I asked (in writing) the young administrator if she had completed the tasks required to progress this customers investigation. She replied that she had. After my own investigation however I found out she had flat out lied. While she had coldly lied to my face before this was the first time she had done so in an email.

While I know now with experience, foresight and most importantly apathy, that at that point I should have gone directly to her superiors. At the time I viewed this as dishonorable and not fair on her.

So I instead prepared to confront her myself. However, by the time I was ready she had already snuck off home. Infuriating me even more, I quickly started writing her an email, expressing my displeasure and informing her that if it happened again I would inform our supervisors.

Being a young male army reservists, I viewed it as firing a warning shot or, as a combatant that had been under fire for a period of time finally in a position to exert some freedom of movement (I had become somewhat of a lacky at this position, getting moved around and constantly working extra hours). Unfortunately, I had given too much/not enough respect to my counterpart. Not enough, in that I still believed she disliked me and wanted to see my demise (she would brag that she was responsible for moving me around) – thus, I should have foreseen that complaining to human resources would definitely not have been beneath her. Too much, in that thinking she had a strong work ethic and that my email would promote better performance.

In the end though, and I even requested this prior to the incident, I believe the team was mismanaged and that amicable relations could have occurred if a team event was organized. Moving on though, I have no doubt now that I have matured while also becoming less emotionally stable/confident/arrogant. I now understand that while there was a dislike there, there was also genuine incompetence and hurt feelings. I have definitely learnt from the mistake.

Needless to say I lost the secondment and had to write an apology letter that was made infinitely better by an older professional female partner which I am very grateful for.

This however, was not a good time to be without work. Our company was well oversized after finishing up on several major projects and was adjusting through constant redundancies.

Nevertheless, I was trying to keep myself busy, and was succeeding for a period of time. However, as previously stated, through study, partying and the pursuit of women, as well as the fitness regime I was trying to develop, my sleep was definitely deteriorating.

I remember starting to feel like I was breaking down for the first time. I felt like a dead man walking, as there was no local work for me and contracts were drying up and contacts (friends and mentors) were leaving or being let go. Furthermore, I felt and knew I was being talked about as there was a further interest in my well being.

It was over a long weekend I believe, that I took myself to hospital, but it is in the few days prior that make this episode intriguing.

The first key point that I told good long term mate from Hervey Bay (on about Wednesday I believe) that I was cracking up. The second was a conversation I had with a mentor , who told me to “look for signs” I didn’t understand what that meant and when I asked for clarification, he mentioned job boards.

That weekend I was also moving out being in a shit mood I took to becoming insulated and cleaning the house by myself largely ignoring my roommates. This most likely led to them being hyper sensitive around me or acting oddly. Also at some point that week they had taken to watching the Seinfeld episode of George moving in with his parents. I felt it as a little jab considering this is what I was doing and it eroded on my sensibility.

Somehow through my delusions and grandeur at the time, I believed I was being broken down so I could be moulded into something better. This was a constant phrase that was used throughout basic training in the military. And to me made sense with the ghost/prank calls I was receiving as well as sabotage of my hair while I slept by unknown assailants, combined with emails that never made it through. These unknowns mixed with the carnitine, my curiosity and desire to know, were all slowly eroding me down.

So while me telling a mate that I felt I was going crazy was my first spoken act. (I should mention that crying in the bathroom and in public on walks are also a pretty good sign in retrospect).

I believe my first act of being crazy was when I confronted my roommates at the end of the move out. In a friendly manner around a pizza on the floor I told them that I knew they were “in on it”. They didn’t deny anything, but were curious, in a jokingly and friendly manner as to “what they were in on?” – I told them that something was going to happen and that I was either up for a promotion at work or going to get fired. They wanted to know “how they would be linked to work?” I didn’t have a specific answer but didn’t see it as that far of a reach considering work new where I lived.

I remember the term “I don’t know whether to laugh or have a hard on” in reference to how elaborate my plot was, being spoken by one of the brothers. I remember telling them I just needed to learn one lesson and they asked what’s that. I said “To communicate more”. As we were parting ways one of my flat mates looked at me and said “Congratulations on the promotion”.

That evening I went to two mates from work’s house (one lived there the other was also visiting). I had one puff of weed and became tearful when they started talking about moving in with the parents. My mood was erratic and I accused them of being “in on it too”. From my perceived vantage point they cunningly evaded my accusations to which I laughed and responded “I don’t know whether to laugh or have a hard on” as the phrase which seemed somewhat out of place when I first heard it, was now embraced to full effect, laughing out loud hysterically.

At that point, the gentlemen who did not live there left. And the resident and friend was left there alone to console me. I don’t remember the details of the conversation, but I was going to go into the Valley. However, he managed to convince me to jump in a taxi and go home.

I recall that at the time two different cabs arrived (one dropping people off) and while I was going to get into the other my mate guided me into the ordered cab.

In the cab the driver, and we started talking about Australia, in particular what happened to the natives when the Europeans arrived. At that point, I believed, as an East Indian, that man was portraying a subtext which wasn’t friendly for current Australians. I noticed as that as we got closer to home the meter was not running, when we arrived at my home I negotiated with the taxi driver my fare. He offered it for free but I would not accept was deliberately aiming high and it was him that was bringing me down to a more reasonable price.

I also believed that he was “in on it too” as my psychosis expanded ever wider from that of just my work to clandestine organizations that were evaluating and assessing me.

That night I made it home, I can’t remember if it was this night or the night after, but not being able to sleep, I requested to hang out with my brother in his room. Thinking he was “in on it too” I was seeking some information from him. However, I said nothing and he said nothing. And eventually I left and went to bed.

The next morning I caught a lift from the old man to my mates place, as I had left my car there previously the night before.

I was eager to get to work as I had some study to do. As well as research now that I had this new awareness of “looking for signs”.

However my mate slowed me down, understandably he wanted to know what the last night was about, and if I was doing okay. But for me it felt like an interrogation and a harassment of my time. However, I was starting to learn that people give a lot of respect and humility to a man of my size in an irrational and psychotic state. They would offer me pretty much anything to stay safe with them for a bit.

My first experience of this was the cab ride home, I saw the cab ride as an offering as a further empowerment to my perceived promotion or direction. And my counter offer a notion as to how I operate when treated fairly.

So when I visited my mates picking up my car and was in a rush to leave. We negotiated for my time. For me it was serious, for him a necessary lie I presume.

I saw this negotiation as my initiation package/negotiation of a contract. I don’t remember the details but I settled on something like $15 million, I did not perceived it as a ridiculous sum but definitely as a game changer as it would boost me into the lower upper class. I was happy with this as it would take me out of the rat race and allow me to start from the bottom and work my way up in the craft with a relatively small amount of capital.

After the negotiation took place we began to talk for a bit, he expressed his concern for my safety, his safety and the safety of the public the previous night. And wanted to know why I was acting weird and if I was all right.

I don’t recall explaining much as for the next several years I would be extremely guarded and only talked in sub-text generally through songs and movies.

But when he saw that I was relatively calm and stable, he let me go asking what I was up to. I explained to him that I was heading into the office to do some work. He said okay but on our departure told me to “take time to smell the roses” and that I have $15 million.

I acknowledged him and drove into work.