Moonwalk

10,000 hours is what it takes for anyone to become good (not just good very good) at anything. This is what Eugene tells me after I tell him of my resignation. Lin worked out for me the other day that if you practiced something for 5 hours a day everyday, it'd take you about 5 years to achieve the said 10,000hours. in 10,000 hours anyone could go pro at anything. And unless you allocate the next 10,000 hours wisely, you'll fall behind.

We're in the billiard room of the Raffles hotel, and I'm nervously making the cheese sticks disappear between sips of beer. He continues on several other theories, drawing pyramids in my sketch book, writing figures, sighting names followed by generous quotations. I nod a lot, and try where I can to interject and query where I can. I feel heavy. And I'm trying to fend off the alcohol, but it's already in there mixing up my feelings.

He was going to tell me - before he had heard the news of my resignation, that he was proud of me I'm guessing. But, he had instead been told of my departure from the company and this moment had been suddenly over shadowed by a grim showdown that was already taking place.

He would have said something to me if I was his son. He would have told me I was being foolish. That I am loved. That I needn't look any further. That I'm about to make a big mistake. But he couldn't because I wasn't. And he didn't have to, because I already knew it when he'd called me to set this meeting up the same day I'd written to him, even though he was on holiday, and had just flown into the country.

I was at the NGV (National Gallery of Victoria) a month before this with Joe and Kim in Melbourne about a month ago. I'd gone looking for a book that I couldn't find. and had instead bumped into Noelle while she was looking at this book of oriental snuff bottles. She asked how I was doing at work. and the answer was quite crummy, which was quickly remedied by a 'but I' might be leaving soon', 'oooh' she replied, 'to a boutique firm?'. Yeah, I replied - a bit embarassed at how transparent the decision was. 'Oh, don't you worry' she said, it was one of the best days of her life. She'd told them to stick it and sashayed out of there...

'Nah', I said to her - a bit sad even then - 'I'm going to have to gently moonwalk out of there.'

Eugene looks up solemnly between thumbing through his blackberry over his famous horn rimed spectacles. He manages a smile before continuing.

I am, in his words, determined to fail.

And I am.

'Find my feet' I say, 'spread my wings', 'broaden my horizons.' I type in various exit emails over the next couple of days. What opportunities can hope to find out beyond what I've been given here? 'Myself' I reply. Walkabout. failure. the ground.

The showdown ends in a cozy little restaurant quite near my house.

'Let's have one for the road' he says. We settle for a pino, and the restaurant manager - who turns out to be a friend of his, comes round and we have a short discussion about his cuisine and the childlike proposition behind his flavors. And as I sit and listen to the man I'd always regarded as the 'Master Yoda' of Advertising, I feel the the gravity of my words rise to meet my face.

I don't 'Yada' what I'm asking for he'd explained. (Which apparently is Hebrew for 'know intimately' - as Adam did Eve. (but that is only 1 of 6 intepretations for the word.))

And I don't know. I really don't Yada yada yada what I've just done, where I'm going to be, what good it'll be.

I'm swollen with fear and anxiety.

It hits me then too that I sadly don't actually know how to moonwalk either.