Yeah sure, I've been called one. Have you? If you think you haven't, it probably means you are one. What makes a good ass hole? What makes a bad ass hole? Tone affliction for one will tell you if you're being complimented or called out. It's said that opinions are like ass holes- everybody has one. I can't help but feel that ass holes are like opinions- full of hot air.
There's many types of ass holes, they cut you off in traffic, they talk on their cell phone at the shopping counter and they call the home phone while your favourite 'Cheers' re-run is on (that Woody guy- what a character!). They can come from anywhere like a rogue hair on your arm or a dog poop in the middle of a football oval and they will most certainly put your knickers in a knot. But, why? Why do they sneak up on us at the most inconvenient of times and how can we learn to recognise the good from the bad?
Let's have a look at the good ass holes first. They're the ones that win two meat tray's in the same raffle, they accidentally put $100 on the greyhounds instead of the gallops for it to pay $12.10 and they once got a free round from that bar tender that never gives a free shout to anyone... anyone. Good ass holes are loveable because they didn't mean it and fingers crossed it could be you one day. Walking back to the table with your tray of snags and scotch fillets you will no doubt here a laugh followed by the words "look at this ass hole". That's good right?! Of course it's good. Any time a laugh, giggle or shake of the head with a smile precedes those words you are automatically an ass hole of the good order. Let's face it- you would be more than happy to be called an ass hole for a good win on the dish lickers- you could buy that 'Cheers' box set you've had your eye on for a while now.
Now to the real ass holes. The ones we love to hate. The ones that can take your blood to a boil in a blink of an eye. I've just about had enough of these ass holes. They talked during the movie so we missed the start and they came and stood right in front of us at the gig last week. Unlike the good ass holes, bad ones are often not told. Wait a minute, that doesn't even make sense! Norm would fall off his bar stool if he knew these ass holes were getting away with it! How are they still allowed to get away with it? At what point in time did we become so polite to not tell someone they are being an ass hole but we deemed it socially acceptable to park in handicapped spaces?
Let's make a pact, we need a united front if this epidemic is to be tended to. Going forward from today we need to make examples of those who cut in line and take the last pie at the bakery or don't say 'thanks mate' for keeping the door open when exiting. Let's devise a plan or a signal to make others aware of an ass holes presence. "Excuse me everybody, we've got an ass hole here" may be too obvious but if we can't think of anything soon it will have to do. Let's all put our thinking caps on while watching 'Cheers' this week and come up with a plan, we'll call ourselves the 'Ass hole Strategy Society' (ASS). Meeting adjourned.
Tuesday 25 December 2012
Wednesday 21 November 2012
The shallow end is deeper than it looks.
"Go on, go!" Jimmy urged as I gradually crept toward the edge of the pool. It was cold that day too, I've got no idea why we were going for a swim. Jimmy had convinced me to jump into his next door neighbours back yard to go for a splash when they weren't home. Once ready we played scissors, paper, rock to see who went first. Just like Bart Simpson I found out that paper does indeed have it over rock! (damn you paper!) Since it was cold I went toward the shallow end so I could ease my limbs down into the algae water providing a chance to withdraw if needed. As I went to dip my big toe in Jimmy shouted "Wait! That's the deep end, you'll sink".
"Bullshit! its the shallow end dick head- look!" I replied. It looked shallow- you could see the bottom. Jimmy explained that "it's one of those new special pools that makes it look as though its shallow, and the shallow end look deep". He had a very good point- the pool was new.
Like an idiot I listened to him. Like an idiot I believed him. Like an idiot I went against my perception of depth and jumped in..... the deep end! Idiot.
So I stuffed up, I was a gullible idiot and I learnt another valuable lesson about keeping up with Jimmy Jones. But looking back and realising that my perception of depth was correct and with enough pressure and reasoning I was swayed was frustrating. First doubting myself followed by going against my better judgement, where else in life could the same mistake have been made?
Right here: Have you ever purchased anything off the television? C'mon.... we are all friends here. Sure, the 'Snuggy' looked like a piece of shit idea when you first saw it and naturally perceived bullshit. But, over time it gradually tore you down until you had everyones christmas present sorted in one phone call and 2 easy payments.
Perception isn't just a tool that's used by your eyes alone. It's one that all traditional senses utilise and as a result makes it vulnerable to being mislead. With your conscious and traditional senses so reliant on your sense of perception for almost all decisions there is a lot to break down when considering your options.
Nature or Nurture, it only takes a few times of being mislead to correct your mistakes. Or, is it that we don't want to believe our gut for the hope of something better? It doesn't matter if you are a communist or capitalist we are all consumerists. It's just in our nature now as a result of nurture, and one common perception that is often manipulated is that of others financial or personal wealth. We are constantly jumping over the fence to see the neighbours new pool and begin to believe they are 'better off' than ones self.
It's up to you to decide what you believe and not be misled by the word of others if you perceive otherwise. It's taken a lot of stuff ups and mistakes to get to who you are and you should be proud of the disappointed looks on your families faces when they opened their snuggy's last christmas. Seek gratification for your initial perceptions as they represent who you are and if your/ they're wrong so be it- learn from it. Trust your judgement and ensure it was you who made the decision to jump in the deep in end.
"Bullshit! its the shallow end dick head- look!" I replied. It looked shallow- you could see the bottom. Jimmy explained that "it's one of those new special pools that makes it look as though its shallow, and the shallow end look deep". He had a very good point- the pool was new.
Like an idiot I listened to him. Like an idiot I believed him. Like an idiot I went against my perception of depth and jumped in..... the deep end! Idiot.
So I stuffed up, I was a gullible idiot and I learnt another valuable lesson about keeping up with Jimmy Jones. But looking back and realising that my perception of depth was correct and with enough pressure and reasoning I was swayed was frustrating. First doubting myself followed by going against my better judgement, where else in life could the same mistake have been made?
Right here: Have you ever purchased anything off the television? C'mon.... we are all friends here. Sure, the 'Snuggy' looked like a piece of shit idea when you first saw it and naturally perceived bullshit. But, over time it gradually tore you down until you had everyones christmas present sorted in one phone call and 2 easy payments.
Perception isn't just a tool that's used by your eyes alone. It's one that all traditional senses utilise and as a result makes it vulnerable to being mislead. With your conscious and traditional senses so reliant on your sense of perception for almost all decisions there is a lot to break down when considering your options.
Nature or Nurture, it only takes a few times of being mislead to correct your mistakes. Or, is it that we don't want to believe our gut for the hope of something better? It doesn't matter if you are a communist or capitalist we are all consumerists. It's just in our nature now as a result of nurture, and one common perception that is often manipulated is that of others financial or personal wealth. We are constantly jumping over the fence to see the neighbours new pool and begin to believe they are 'better off' than ones self.
It's up to you to decide what you believe and not be misled by the word of others if you perceive otherwise. It's taken a lot of stuff ups and mistakes to get to who you are and you should be proud of the disappointed looks on your families faces when they opened their snuggy's last christmas. Seek gratification for your initial perceptions as they represent who you are and if your/ they're wrong so be it- learn from it. Trust your judgement and ensure it was you who made the decision to jump in the deep in end.
Sunday 14 October 2012
Candy caused the global financial crisis.
How good are 6th birthday parties? Meh! How good are 6th birthday parties when you're 6?! abazmyin.... amazbyn.... Amazing! Heck yeah they are. Games, dancing shoes, party boots, cake and candy. All the candy in the world. We were too young to figure out just what the chemical properties of candy is that makes it so good, in fact we were to young to know what chemical properties were but, we just knew that artificially flavoured clumps of sugar got us high. Not even spinning around in circles compared to the rush of a good 'push pop'. We liked it, we wanted it and when that wasn't enough- we wanted more of it.
I can't remember whose birthday it was but this was by far the 'party of the year'. Jimmy Jones and I were sitting next to each other for Pass the parcel and it seemed to go forever with hidden surprises almost every few layers- pretty awesome. Sitting crossed legged on the floor a table towered over us. This was no ordinary table, sure it had four legs and a top but it's what it held that made it extraordinary. Resting on top was bowl after bowl of sweet sweet candy. Snakes, freckles, frogs, raspberry's, pineapple's and mini twix bar's illuminated the room. Since the game was going so long and all the prizes were going to the girls (typical) Jimmy got up and fetched himself a good portion of candy. Naturally I followed suit but got a little more as I didn't want to miss out. We ate, we laughed, we tried to talk with our fake candy teeth. We finished and Jimmy went back for more and this time he cleaned up, two palms full of sugary goodness that seemed too big to carry. Again worried that I'd miss out I hurried thinking "I'll show him" and ensured I got my fair share. Sausage rolls had to wait that day because unless pastry was made of pure sugar- it wasn't passing my fake candy teeth. I wanted that candy but I didn't need it. Jimmy certainly didn't need the amount he had either. I knew I didn't need it, I didn't even want it but greed driven by jealousy took over and Jimmy and I ate candy until we threw up. I should have told him to stop going back for more.
Greed is the prodigal son of Materialism and was 'that kid' who could do no wrong in their parent's eyes. For generations Greed has looked like a golden child in Mr. Capitalism's classroom but when the bell rang he walked straight up to Common Sense in the playground and kicks him in the shins while the rest of us stood there, did nothing and were surprised that he got away with it. Take the occupy wall streeters for example, take any protesters, anywhere on economic change. Congratulations for growing a set and speaking up but your placards are no use outside Mr. Capitalism's office. But, little did we know or care to recognise that Mr. Capitalism is in fact Greed's uncle and pretty slogan's on pretty placards won't divide family.
The placard's are in the wrong place. They need to be taken to where the problem began- our own place. They should be in our front yards. Facing inward. They should be in our neighbours yard. Facing inward. It's only us that can transform inherent destructive nature of greed and we have a social responsibility to change it. There's no point to lining your back fence with used placards so the dog won't get out if your just going to keep letting the side gate open. Real change comes from shifts in societal behaviour caused by human movement. The movement for change starts at home, starts next door, starts in the classroom and starts at the birthday party. It's clear that greed can not be fixed nor changed by further greed and time we stopped eating all the candy like innocent children collecting pockets full of sugar that in the long run will just make you sick in the tummy.
Birthday party, classroom, back fence. 1, 2, 3 metaphors- Abazmyin!
I can't remember whose birthday it was but this was by far the 'party of the year'. Jimmy Jones and I were sitting next to each other for Pass the parcel and it seemed to go forever with hidden surprises almost every few layers- pretty awesome. Sitting crossed legged on the floor a table towered over us. This was no ordinary table, sure it had four legs and a top but it's what it held that made it extraordinary. Resting on top was bowl after bowl of sweet sweet candy. Snakes, freckles, frogs, raspberry's, pineapple's and mini twix bar's illuminated the room. Since the game was going so long and all the prizes were going to the girls (typical) Jimmy got up and fetched himself a good portion of candy. Naturally I followed suit but got a little more as I didn't want to miss out. We ate, we laughed, we tried to talk with our fake candy teeth. We finished and Jimmy went back for more and this time he cleaned up, two palms full of sugary goodness that seemed too big to carry. Again worried that I'd miss out I hurried thinking "I'll show him" and ensured I got my fair share. Sausage rolls had to wait that day because unless pastry was made of pure sugar- it wasn't passing my fake candy teeth. I wanted that candy but I didn't need it. Jimmy certainly didn't need the amount he had either. I knew I didn't need it, I didn't even want it but greed driven by jealousy took over and Jimmy and I ate candy until we threw up. I should have told him to stop going back for more.
Greed is the prodigal son of Materialism and was 'that kid' who could do no wrong in their parent's eyes. For generations Greed has looked like a golden child in Mr. Capitalism's classroom but when the bell rang he walked straight up to Common Sense in the playground and kicks him in the shins while the rest of us stood there, did nothing and were surprised that he got away with it. Take the occupy wall streeters for example, take any protesters, anywhere on economic change. Congratulations for growing a set and speaking up but your placards are no use outside Mr. Capitalism's office. But, little did we know or care to recognise that Mr. Capitalism is in fact Greed's uncle and pretty slogan's on pretty placards won't divide family.
The placard's are in the wrong place. They need to be taken to where the problem began- our own place. They should be in our front yards. Facing inward. They should be in our neighbours yard. Facing inward. It's only us that can transform inherent destructive nature of greed and we have a social responsibility to change it. There's no point to lining your back fence with used placards so the dog won't get out if your just going to keep letting the side gate open. Real change comes from shifts in societal behaviour caused by human movement. The movement for change starts at home, starts next door, starts in the classroom and starts at the birthday party. It's clear that greed can not be fixed nor changed by further greed and time we stopped eating all the candy like innocent children collecting pockets full of sugar that in the long run will just make you sick in the tummy.
Birthday party, classroom, back fence. 1, 2, 3 metaphors- Abazmyin!
Tuesday 2 October 2012
STYP Top Ten Steps to Cure a Bad Work Day
So you had a bad day at work? Well "boo-fucken-hoo". You're a big kid now and you have to deal with your big kid problems like.... a big kid. Here are some sure fire ways to help you keep it together at the office tomorrow.
1. Put on your favourite underwear in the morning- Nothing says smile like your favourite 'tighty whities'! Everyone has a pair, sometimes it's the ones you least expected when buying them. You can't dispute that a comfy pair of boxers, briefs or bloomers around the junk is the best thing that ever happened. In emergency situation's put the underwear in the dryer for 5 minutes beforehand- now we're laughing.
2. Use dated positive slang words in relation to everything- Because they're fucken Radical! The drive to work wasn't fun but you've got to pull your shit together now because you can't put off that meeting with Greg in accounting any longer. Bring back slang from your youth or use it from other generations. "Swell", "Tops", "Ball Tearer", "Radical", "Awesome", "Epic" or "Kick Ass" can all be used to put a smile on your dial. Positive words have positive effects so use them often and you'll feel "Gnarlier" by the second!
3. Finish every sentence with a high note. Combining positive words with a bird like chirp is an attack the Cobra Kai never saw coming. No better way to stop being a sooky bum than having fun with the whining coming out of your mouth. Increase the pitch a little at the end of each sentence and you'll be filled with a youthful enthusiasm for life again.
4. Send a sexually suggestive email from your colleagues computer to another colleague. Better hurry Greg from accounting is in the kitchen making his morning coffee and you don't have much time. Everyone in the office has seen the way he flirts with Brenda in payroll, it's about time they take the next step and luckily the internet is 90% porn so your shouldn't have too much trouble finding content.
5. High 5 yourself after going to the toilet- You're a big kid! Your morning coffee has kicked in and it's time. So what? just because you're an adult doesn't mean you can't celebrate 20 years since you passed potty training. Hold that left arm up high and keep slapping your right palm on it so hard that crispy crispness of a clap echoes down the hallway loud enough to let everyone know you got the job done with no hiccups.
6. Only whine once an hour- It's almost lunch and you're starting to piss everyone off. Pick a mark on the clock and try to schedule your next complaint for around that time each hour. If you feel you might crack, think of how good your underwear felt when you pulled it out of the dryer this morning. Just pace yourself on the whining dude.
7. Stand in front of the mirror in the crane position- Karate Kid was awesome. If you feel as though you're about to tell Greg in accounting to shove his TPS report where the sun don't shine, Take 5 princess. Find a mirror or window and raise those arms up high while standing on one leg and go away to another place. Mr Miyagi was the man and he knows what's best for you.
8. Rejoice in other's misery- Nothing more up lifting than watching someone else in pain. If you're still being a jerk it's probably best to have lunch on your own. Try sitting in view of a stair case so you can watch other's trip on their way up. It's a waiting game but they will come. If you wait for them, they will come.
9. Pick your nose- It's the 3pm slump and you need a pick me up (pun intended). It's always nice after a good pick, the air feels cool as it rushes up your nasal cavity and it's like you're at the snow on holidays. It also comes with the physical benefit of allowing more oxygen to your brain so it really could help your crappy mood with an oxygen high. Forget the index finger- try the pinky! Sure, it'll take little longer but maybe you'll learn something about yourself.
10. Shut the fuck up and get on with it- everyone has a bad day and no one gives a shit!... Especially Greg in accounting and Brenda from payroll thinks you're an asshole all the time.
1. Put on your favourite underwear in the morning- Nothing says smile like your favourite 'tighty whities'! Everyone has a pair, sometimes it's the ones you least expected when buying them. You can't dispute that a comfy pair of boxers, briefs or bloomers around the junk is the best thing that ever happened. In emergency situation's put the underwear in the dryer for 5 minutes beforehand- now we're laughing.
2. Use dated positive slang words in relation to everything- Because they're fucken Radical! The drive to work wasn't fun but you've got to pull your shit together now because you can't put off that meeting with Greg in accounting any longer. Bring back slang from your youth or use it from other generations. "Swell", "Tops", "Ball Tearer", "Radical", "Awesome", "Epic" or "Kick Ass" can all be used to put a smile on your dial. Positive words have positive effects so use them often and you'll feel "Gnarlier" by the second!
3. Finish every sentence with a high note. Combining positive words with a bird like chirp is an attack the Cobra Kai never saw coming. No better way to stop being a sooky bum than having fun with the whining coming out of your mouth. Increase the pitch a little at the end of each sentence and you'll be filled with a youthful enthusiasm for life again.
4. Send a sexually suggestive email from your colleagues computer to another colleague. Better hurry Greg from accounting is in the kitchen making his morning coffee and you don't have much time. Everyone in the office has seen the way he flirts with Brenda in payroll, it's about time they take the next step and luckily the internet is 90% porn so your shouldn't have too much trouble finding content.
5. High 5 yourself after going to the toilet- You're a big kid! Your morning coffee has kicked in and it's time. So what? just because you're an adult doesn't mean you can't celebrate 20 years since you passed potty training. Hold that left arm up high and keep slapping your right palm on it so hard that crispy crispness of a clap echoes down the hallway loud enough to let everyone know you got the job done with no hiccups.
6. Only whine once an hour- It's almost lunch and you're starting to piss everyone off. Pick a mark on the clock and try to schedule your next complaint for around that time each hour. If you feel you might crack, think of how good your underwear felt when you pulled it out of the dryer this morning. Just pace yourself on the whining dude.
7. Stand in front of the mirror in the crane position- Karate Kid was awesome. If you feel as though you're about to tell Greg in accounting to shove his TPS report where the sun don't shine, Take 5 princess. Find a mirror or window and raise those arms up high while standing on one leg and go away to another place. Mr Miyagi was the man and he knows what's best for you.
8. Rejoice in other's misery- Nothing more up lifting than watching someone else in pain. If you're still being a jerk it's probably best to have lunch on your own. Try sitting in view of a stair case so you can watch other's trip on their way up. It's a waiting game but they will come. If you wait for them, they will come.
9. Pick your nose- It's the 3pm slump and you need a pick me up (pun intended). It's always nice after a good pick, the air feels cool as it rushes up your nasal cavity and it's like you're at the snow on holidays. It also comes with the physical benefit of allowing more oxygen to your brain so it really could help your crappy mood with an oxygen high. Forget the index finger- try the pinky! Sure, it'll take little longer but maybe you'll learn something about yourself.
10. Shut the fuck up and get on with it- everyone has a bad day and no one gives a shit!... Especially Greg in accounting and Brenda from payroll thinks you're an asshole all the time.
Sunday 16 September 2012
Natural selection is a colouring competition.
That Usain Bolt guy is pretty quick, he could probably out run a cheetah. That Donald Trump guy is pretty clever, he probably won a few spelling bee's in his day. That Natalie Portman lady is pretty talented, she's probably broken a few hearts in her time. The perception of first place comes in many forms and relative to the discipline in which it's born. When I was 4 years old 'Cartoon Connection' ran a mothers day competition where you had to draw a picture of your mum and send it in. Working hard at the kitchen counter one could have been mistaken to think it was a dual eared Van Gogh at work. Mothers Day came and the pieces were judged on air, there was some stiff competition but I emerged victorious! Next thing we knew Mum was sitting comfortably in a bath robe and massaging feet warmer.... you're welcome.
These days it takes a little more than luck and hard work to reach the top of your industry. Natural talent will only get you so far and then it's up to you to go the rest of the way. With 6 billion people in the world all fighting for their place on the podium, boardroom table or stage what exactly is it that takes you the rest of the way? 'Drive', 'Will', 'Guts'? All of them, probably. All underlined by the natural instinct of survival that has kept man progressing since the beginning of time. It's inherent to want to be at the top of your game whilst feeling the satisfaction and reward of your hard labour but as society progresses and survival has become simpler due to modern farming practices and medicine the goal posts have moved. There's a new instinct that is enveloping and consuming our foundation of virtue forging a new era in societal movement. The spirit of competition is now a supporting member of morality along side respect and dignity. As the global population keeps growing and successful survival rates of new born's and the ill continue's to rise it is inevitable that a new form natural selection would prosper. Hence forth with our bodies to be kept in tact the only course for natural selection to take is societal famine. With physically aggressive primal urges now regulated by law and order the competitive spirit has become the new battle weapon. Although the body takes millennia to evolve our bodies have responded to man made cultural living patterns by the human brain evolving beyond the rate of its carrier.
Clothing, music and language goes in and out of fashion all the time. In my day it was all about wanting to be a policemen or fireman, nowadays the kids are all about growing up to be an interior decorator or marine biologist. This new wave of competition could just be a passing fad. I'm often offended by the arrogance that can come with power. With the western world financially prospering over the last century came accessibility to education. As standards of living for all classes started to increase education and financial prosperity spread with the subsequent authority complex that often accompanies knowledge and wealth. Now we have generation's of kids never being told by the their parents: "No! you can not have a new pair of Nike's, you just got a pair". Only to hear back: "But, Jimmy Jones has got a pair and I need them to beat him at Basketball" It's been a while since the depression and maybe it will take another financial collapse for the world to see what competition has created.
With the rise of competition and subsequent competitive spirits now celebrated more than ever vulnerable minds can be easily influenced and exploited resulting in corrosive implications on society rather than positive growth. I often wonder what if I didn't dominate the drawing competition- how bold would I be today? So just like celebrated television host Jerry Springer and his final thought here is mine: Is the rise of the competitive spirit an evolutionary discourse or contemporary natural selection?
These days it takes a little more than luck and hard work to reach the top of your industry. Natural talent will only get you so far and then it's up to you to go the rest of the way. With 6 billion people in the world all fighting for their place on the podium, boardroom table or stage what exactly is it that takes you the rest of the way? 'Drive', 'Will', 'Guts'? All of them, probably. All underlined by the natural instinct of survival that has kept man progressing since the beginning of time. It's inherent to want to be at the top of your game whilst feeling the satisfaction and reward of your hard labour but as society progresses and survival has become simpler due to modern farming practices and medicine the goal posts have moved. There's a new instinct that is enveloping and consuming our foundation of virtue forging a new era in societal movement. The spirit of competition is now a supporting member of morality along side respect and dignity. As the global population keeps growing and successful survival rates of new born's and the ill continue's to rise it is inevitable that a new form natural selection would prosper. Hence forth with our bodies to be kept in tact the only course for natural selection to take is societal famine. With physically aggressive primal urges now regulated by law and order the competitive spirit has become the new battle weapon. Although the body takes millennia to evolve our bodies have responded to man made cultural living patterns by the human brain evolving beyond the rate of its carrier.
Clothing, music and language goes in and out of fashion all the time. In my day it was all about wanting to be a policemen or fireman, nowadays the kids are all about growing up to be an interior decorator or marine biologist. This new wave of competition could just be a passing fad. I'm often offended by the arrogance that can come with power. With the western world financially prospering over the last century came accessibility to education. As standards of living for all classes started to increase education and financial prosperity spread with the subsequent authority complex that often accompanies knowledge and wealth. Now we have generation's of kids never being told by the their parents: "No! you can not have a new pair of Nike's, you just got a pair". Only to hear back: "But, Jimmy Jones has got a pair and I need them to beat him at Basketball" It's been a while since the depression and maybe it will take another financial collapse for the world to see what competition has created.
With the rise of competition and subsequent competitive spirits now celebrated more than ever vulnerable minds can be easily influenced and exploited resulting in corrosive implications on society rather than positive growth. I often wonder what if I didn't dominate the drawing competition- how bold would I be today? So just like celebrated television host Jerry Springer and his final thought here is mine: Is the rise of the competitive spirit an evolutionary discourse or contemporary natural selection?
Sunday 9 September 2012
Step one, Step three.
Every weekday morning at 7:20am whilst rushing to work and ascending the stairs from the subway the same thought goes through my mind: "Why are my legs so bloody short?" They're too short, or too long. I'm not exactly sure but all I know is that they can make climbing stairs annoying at times. I once read that Lance Armstrong's legs had the perfect combination of bone length and muscle structure for cycling and I concluded that I had the worst combination for climbing stairs. Each step always seems to be just that little bit too big or too small for one comfortable stride. Is there an international standard for step height? Who invented it? What was their bone and muscle structure? Whoever you are (if there is such a person), you better buy some shin guards champ because I've got a pair of steel cap boots with your name on them!
Growing up I lived on a hill and our house was built on the side of said hill. Inside, the floor plan climbed up with the shape of the hill so we had a lot of stairs. So many stairs meant that you didn't want to forget anything and you were constantly loading yourself up with whatever you had to carry to ensure you didn't have to make a few trips. It was time consuming and laborious to keep stomping up and down and I had heaps better things to be doing like watching Wide World of Sports. We only had the one bathroom and it was up the top so if you were right downstairs and needed to go.... you really thought about it. They were certainly character building stairs. Once old enough and big enough I figured out it was much quicker and easier on the stride if I just skipped a step on the way up. Sure it was a little more physical effort for one stride but I feel the overall calories burnt and time spent on stairs ended up being considerably reduced. Bang! Problem solved. "See you later stairs, I've got other shit to be doing rather than hang around you all day" So from an early age I was skipping steps left right and centre. When stair climbing race stories used to come on Wide World of Sports I was enthralled with their technique, I felt if I just worked on my fitness a little I'd beat all those suckers to the finish line running up with their '1 step at a time' technique. Skipping steps soon bled into other area's of life like school. In art and math you have to show how you got to the end result. Stuff that! "Look Teach. I was here, now I'm there and I'm right so that's all you need to know". (Hot tip: don't call your teacher 'Teach')
Strangely enough I wasn't always right, no one is always right and without following the right procedure from the beginning you can't see where you went wrong. Skipping steps in the process can set bad habits for out side the classroom. It's only Math and Art, who cares right? But that skipping step mentality meant I never 'just worked on my fitness a little' because I was always looking for a way to skip ahead. As a time deprived society we are always looking for that short cut, leg up, back door or jump of the queue. We must ask ourselves is saving a little extra time worth the consequences and sacrifice of character to do it the right way. By skipping steps we are depriving ourselves of the opportunity to see where we need improvement and subsequently grow as people. For a few extra minutes on the sofa we are missing the opportunity to watch the world go by in all its glory. It's pretty obvious that even Lance Armstrong with his perfect sized cycling legs took the necessary steps in his training to succeed and as a result was also able to enjoy the view of the world on the way to the finish line.
Growing up I lived on a hill and our house was built on the side of said hill. Inside, the floor plan climbed up with the shape of the hill so we had a lot of stairs. So many stairs meant that you didn't want to forget anything and you were constantly loading yourself up with whatever you had to carry to ensure you didn't have to make a few trips. It was time consuming and laborious to keep stomping up and down and I had heaps better things to be doing like watching Wide World of Sports. We only had the one bathroom and it was up the top so if you were right downstairs and needed to go.... you really thought about it. They were certainly character building stairs. Once old enough and big enough I figured out it was much quicker and easier on the stride if I just skipped a step on the way up. Sure it was a little more physical effort for one stride but I feel the overall calories burnt and time spent on stairs ended up being considerably reduced. Bang! Problem solved. "See you later stairs, I've got other shit to be doing rather than hang around you all day" So from an early age I was skipping steps left right and centre. When stair climbing race stories used to come on Wide World of Sports I was enthralled with their technique, I felt if I just worked on my fitness a little I'd beat all those suckers to the finish line running up with their '1 step at a time' technique. Skipping steps soon bled into other area's of life like school. In art and math you have to show how you got to the end result. Stuff that! "Look Teach. I was here, now I'm there and I'm right so that's all you need to know". (Hot tip: don't call your teacher 'Teach')
Strangely enough I wasn't always right, no one is always right and without following the right procedure from the beginning you can't see where you went wrong. Skipping steps in the process can set bad habits for out side the classroom. It's only Math and Art, who cares right? But that skipping step mentality meant I never 'just worked on my fitness a little' because I was always looking for a way to skip ahead. As a time deprived society we are always looking for that short cut, leg up, back door or jump of the queue. We must ask ourselves is saving a little extra time worth the consequences and sacrifice of character to do it the right way. By skipping steps we are depriving ourselves of the opportunity to see where we need improvement and subsequently grow as people. For a few extra minutes on the sofa we are missing the opportunity to watch the world go by in all its glory. It's pretty obvious that even Lance Armstrong with his perfect sized cycling legs took the necessary steps in his training to succeed and as a result was also able to enjoy the view of the world on the way to the finish line.
Tuesday 4 September 2012
Michael J Fox & ALF make a cute couple.
I once got given a frisbee as a birthday present- Awesome! It was orange- More Awesome. It had vents on the side that made it whistle through the air- Totally Awesome! It had a picture of ALF in the middle- Yep, that just happened! The sweet tone of whistley goodness as it glided on the air was like it was ALF's spaceship coming to crash into our house. He'd definitely would have stayed in my room and we would have stayed up cracking jokes even after we'd been warned to go to sleep or no TV for a week. (Whatever, I'd only watch ALF anyway and that show wouldn't even exist because I'd be living it... gees) I could have made a book on tape for him to listen to while I was at school and on his birthday I would have given him a frisbee with a picture of me in the middle wearing a hawaiian shirt.
Early on my birthday a couple of years later a bike appeared from behind the sleet in my eyes- Woah! It had a tough name- 'Rogue'! It had gears- FIVE of them! It had florescent yellow forks- Yep, get outta my face! Rogue and I cruised the streets with the attitude of a soccer mum in an S.U.V and that meant no school teacher was going to tell us where we could and couldn't park. Basketball courts were blank bitumen canvas's awaiting skids from a never ending rear tyre and my thumbs got stronger from all the gear changes. Rogue was tough. Rogue had attitude. Rogue, got super seeded really quickly.
Like everyone, the 'Back to The Future' movie series made me think about things. Serious things. For a young impressionable mind the idea of going back in time was a new exciting thought process that inspired many a day dream and questions of one self. Being a young whipper snapper at the time of the films release it was the first time I started to ask "what would I have done different?" I wanted to be a passenger with Michael J Fox in the Delorian and jump from decade to decade. It encouraged me to find the frisbee underneath my bed and take it back out for a spin. ALF wasn't the same. He lacked the colour of old and we couldn't seem to connect the way we used to. When soaring the whistle was irritating and I couldn't help but keep looking at the time to see when it was going to be a socially acceptable to leave (I had a new fluro green Casio watch). It pained me to think that ALF and I had grown apart and it could be time to move on. I put the frisbee next to the bike underneath the house- where all old toys go to die. Rogue and I just didn't fit anymore, puberty happened and I had physically grown too big for it. Like the movie 'Toy Story' I like to think my childhood toys and day dreams all hang out together and talk trash over a milkshake.
Growing up and growing apart is part of the process to personal growth and revisiting the past is a necessary task to undertake but must be approached with caution. There's a reason Back to the Future only went for 116 minutes. If they had of filmed more period piece footage you would have realised that the 1950's was filled with a large portion of unidentifiable behaviours. No cable. No iPod's. No deep fried Mars bars. It's important to firstly acknowledge and then ask yourself if it is or not a good idea or time to revisit memories. Some things need to remain in the past.
But, if you do get a chance to go back in time remember not to bump into yourself and say g'day to Michael J Fox and ALF, they spend most of their time sipping the same chocolate milkshake through two straws at the dinner.
Early on my birthday a couple of years later a bike appeared from behind the sleet in my eyes- Woah! It had a tough name- 'Rogue'! It had gears- FIVE of them! It had florescent yellow forks- Yep, get outta my face! Rogue and I cruised the streets with the attitude of a soccer mum in an S.U.V and that meant no school teacher was going to tell us where we could and couldn't park. Basketball courts were blank bitumen canvas's awaiting skids from a never ending rear tyre and my thumbs got stronger from all the gear changes. Rogue was tough. Rogue had attitude. Rogue, got super seeded really quickly.
Like everyone, the 'Back to The Future' movie series made me think about things. Serious things. For a young impressionable mind the idea of going back in time was a new exciting thought process that inspired many a day dream and questions of one self. Being a young whipper snapper at the time of the films release it was the first time I started to ask "what would I have done different?" I wanted to be a passenger with Michael J Fox in the Delorian and jump from decade to decade. It encouraged me to find the frisbee underneath my bed and take it back out for a spin. ALF wasn't the same. He lacked the colour of old and we couldn't seem to connect the way we used to. When soaring the whistle was irritating and I couldn't help but keep looking at the time to see when it was going to be a socially acceptable to leave (I had a new fluro green Casio watch). It pained me to think that ALF and I had grown apart and it could be time to move on. I put the frisbee next to the bike underneath the house- where all old toys go to die. Rogue and I just didn't fit anymore, puberty happened and I had physically grown too big for it. Like the movie 'Toy Story' I like to think my childhood toys and day dreams all hang out together and talk trash over a milkshake.
Growing up and growing apart is part of the process to personal growth and revisiting the past is a necessary task to undertake but must be approached with caution. There's a reason Back to the Future only went for 116 minutes. If they had of filmed more period piece footage you would have realised that the 1950's was filled with a large portion of unidentifiable behaviours. No cable. No iPod's. No deep fried Mars bars. It's important to firstly acknowledge and then ask yourself if it is or not a good idea or time to revisit memories. Some things need to remain in the past.
But, if you do get a chance to go back in time remember not to bump into yourself and say g'day to Michael J Fox and ALF, they spend most of their time sipping the same chocolate milkshake through two straws at the dinner.
Tuesday 28 August 2012
Keeping up with Jimmy Jones.
My best friend in kindergartens name was Jimmy. He was the coolest dude you ever met at age 4. The girls swooned over him and he never had a hair out of place. He had these brightly coloured red, yellow and blue zip up shoes that were the bomb and I wanted those shoes so bad I asked my Mum if I could get them (yes fashion conscious at age 4). We'd seen them on 'Cartoon Connection' and they were the 'must have' for the winter. They were amazing. Soft panelled vinyl with the power to illuminate the pavement and complement contemporary 80's style all while making the statement that you were part of the new 'cool'. The first day I went to put them on (actually it was my mum that was putting them on) the zipper broke! Can you believe it? My grand entrance into the 'show and tell' circle- gone! Who can I blame? The manufacturer, the quality control agent at the plant, the distributor- of course not I was 4 and had no idea how business worked so I cried. I cried as my dreams disappeared.
Later that year I had a play date with Jimmy at his house. Sure we were only 4 but, we were the biggest Mad Dogs and it was anyone's guess what crazy shit we would get up to so naturally we had to be supervised. Being mini we escaped the watchful grown up guard and went into the workshop of Jimmy's Dad. He was a potter and you couldn't take a step without potentially breaking something. Jimmy had a toy of some sort confiscated earlier and we ventured in to claim it back- no one was going to tell Jimmy what he could and couldn't play with (told you we were mad dogs). I thought it was a bad idea but I saw what Jimmy had and I wanted it too. The sweet fashion sense, the cool hair, the admiration of girls, (I know we were 4 but I seriously think its around that time when I peaked with the opposite sex) It had to be mine and this was the way to get it. We climbed up on the bench, scaled some shelves breaking shit left, right and centre to reclaim his toy. For some reason the sound of breaking ceramic pots caused alarm and we were busted. I explained to Mum on the way home that it was Jimmy's idea which was subsequently met with the character building question of "If Jimmy told you to jump off a cliff would you do it?" (Mum's- always have an answer within in a question for everything)
Envy and jealousy are cute when you're 4 years old but it can have serious ramifications when you're a grown up and the consequences of it come in varying forms. Those shoes represented a lot more than a fashion accessory and I wanted them so bad it hurt but when I finally got them they weren't everything I thought they'd be and couldn't accept it wasn't meant to be. What ever the motivations are that ignite your envy or jealousy it pays to recognise that we were not meant to have everything. Maybe if the 10th commandment had read "Thou shall not covet thy neighbours house nor Reebok pumps" modern society would have been able to understand what it meant and incorporate into to everyday practice a little better. Fast forward a few thousand years and you have another character telling you "Greed is Good"- best go with your gut on that one I think. My mum's 'jumping off a cliff' question got repeated a bit when I was growing up. As a budding fashionista and a pretty solid social life until the age of 6 it certainly had its place as a potential catch phrase but you have to wonder are external influences providing too much for parents to battle? are the societal and commercial pressures influencing youth of today too much for a young mind to comprehend and process an outcome right for them? are the avenues in which such influences are accessing these minds being overused and exploited?
So next time you're getting a little jelly of the kid next door ask yourself why, how you came to this point and scream at the top of your lungs: "Stick it up your arse Jimmy Jones, I'm not jumping off the bloody cliff!"
Later that year I had a play date with Jimmy at his house. Sure we were only 4 but, we were the biggest Mad Dogs and it was anyone's guess what crazy shit we would get up to so naturally we had to be supervised. Being mini we escaped the watchful grown up guard and went into the workshop of Jimmy's Dad. He was a potter and you couldn't take a step without potentially breaking something. Jimmy had a toy of some sort confiscated earlier and we ventured in to claim it back- no one was going to tell Jimmy what he could and couldn't play with (told you we were mad dogs). I thought it was a bad idea but I saw what Jimmy had and I wanted it too. The sweet fashion sense, the cool hair, the admiration of girls, (I know we were 4 but I seriously think its around that time when I peaked with the opposite sex) It had to be mine and this was the way to get it. We climbed up on the bench, scaled some shelves breaking shit left, right and centre to reclaim his toy. For some reason the sound of breaking ceramic pots caused alarm and we were busted. I explained to Mum on the way home that it was Jimmy's idea which was subsequently met with the character building question of "If Jimmy told you to jump off a cliff would you do it?" (Mum's- always have an answer within in a question for everything)
Envy and jealousy are cute when you're 4 years old but it can have serious ramifications when you're a grown up and the consequences of it come in varying forms. Those shoes represented a lot more than a fashion accessory and I wanted them so bad it hurt but when I finally got them they weren't everything I thought they'd be and couldn't accept it wasn't meant to be. What ever the motivations are that ignite your envy or jealousy it pays to recognise that we were not meant to have everything. Maybe if the 10th commandment had read "Thou shall not covet thy neighbours house nor Reebok pumps" modern society would have been able to understand what it meant and incorporate into to everyday practice a little better. Fast forward a few thousand years and you have another character telling you "Greed is Good"- best go with your gut on that one I think. My mum's 'jumping off a cliff' question got repeated a bit when I was growing up. As a budding fashionista and a pretty solid social life until the age of 6 it certainly had its place as a potential catch phrase but you have to wonder are external influences providing too much for parents to battle? are the societal and commercial pressures influencing youth of today too much for a young mind to comprehend and process an outcome right for them? are the avenues in which such influences are accessing these minds being overused and exploited?
So next time you're getting a little jelly of the kid next door ask yourself why, how you came to this point and scream at the top of your lungs: "Stick it up your arse Jimmy Jones, I'm not jumping off the bloody cliff!"
Sunday 12 August 2012
Lego Aeroplanes Pt2
They were everywhere as our truck pulled in to town. Yellow heads could be seen all the way to the edge of blocks. Although we were rejoicing I couldn't help but feel I'd entered the 'Danger Zone'. We'd left it all behind, made the decision to stop living with our heads and there was a new alphabet without the letters K, P and I. It was a celebration in town, suddenly the weight of the world was off our shoulders and living our nights by day. I do like hanging out in Lego town but the seats get uncomfortable after a while, it is hard to 'high 5' with the gang and it gets kinda creepy how they have to take their hair off to wear a hat. Living your dreams is fun nonetheless but, you have to exit the town at some stage and when you do the real world seems a whole lot bigger than one made of small blocks.
Once you've made the decision to dream, committed and rejoiced you can only live there for so long before you have to communicate it to the outside world, come out of the shed and tell everybody what you were looking for and that is not easy. It's wholly yours, it's personal and it's vulnerable. Modern day 'dreamers' are only spared from judgement if the dream manages to fit within the hours of 9 to 5 and involve a quarterly growth spreadsheet. Announcing the plan will come with scrutiny, the 'looks' will be easy to dismiss, the words easy to counter but the it's silence that lingers which is the hardest to respond to. Societal pressures that sell the comfort of safety will tempt and test you back to conventional thinking and invoke a sense of doubt that leaves you feeling like you were just stripped of an Olympic medal. It's not as easy as you thought it was going to be. Remaining on course is the hardest part to dreaming, only made difficult because you don't have a course to follow. One couldn't be blamed for dismissing them and giving up with everyday life as the reason for doing so. There's no wikipedia page to tell you how to achieve it and no A to F grading once you do.
It's often mistaken that dreamers don't know what they 'want' to do with their lives and sometimes appear lost to the outside world, that's not the issue, it's that they don't know what they 'have' to do to support their unconventional choice as most dreams don't fit into routine. Their dream is new system, a new way of thinking or a new career with no precedent for others to understand and subsequently accept. It's the brave that follow dreams and with a thousand phrases, analogies and metaphors to use along the way you just have to dream the right one for you.
Once you've made the decision to dream, committed and rejoiced you can only live there for so long before you have to communicate it to the outside world, come out of the shed and tell everybody what you were looking for and that is not easy. It's wholly yours, it's personal and it's vulnerable. Modern day 'dreamers' are only spared from judgement if the dream manages to fit within the hours of 9 to 5 and involve a quarterly growth spreadsheet. Announcing the plan will come with scrutiny, the 'looks' will be easy to dismiss, the words easy to counter but the it's silence that lingers which is the hardest to respond to. Societal pressures that sell the comfort of safety will tempt and test you back to conventional thinking and invoke a sense of doubt that leaves you feeling like you were just stripped of an Olympic medal. It's not as easy as you thought it was going to be. Remaining on course is the hardest part to dreaming, only made difficult because you don't have a course to follow. One couldn't be blamed for dismissing them and giving up with everyday life as the reason for doing so. There's no wikipedia page to tell you how to achieve it and no A to F grading once you do.
It's often mistaken that dreamers don't know what they 'want' to do with their lives and sometimes appear lost to the outside world, that's not the issue, it's that they don't know what they 'have' to do to support their unconventional choice as most dreams don't fit into routine. Their dream is new system, a new way of thinking or a new career with no precedent for others to understand and subsequently accept. It's the brave that follow dreams and with a thousand phrases, analogies and metaphors to use along the way you just have to dream the right one for you.
Monday 30 July 2012
Lego Aeroplanes Pt1
I've dreamt of being many things since I was a kid. I dreamt of being a fighter pilot so bad it hurt, that Top Gun VHS had plenty of static on it by the time it was done (it was a 'never tape over' video in the cupboard when you were looking for a fresh tape to record 'The Late Show'). I was attracted to the idea of being weightless and free in the sky. I used to draw aeroplanes until there was nothing left in the HB pencil (yeah- in your face 2B!), that transitioned into other modes of transport such as trucks. For some time I wanted to own a transport company like 'Scotts of Mt. Gambier' or 'Linfox', it was the visions of the open road and wind coming through your window at 110 that allowed me to lose focus in my eyes and day dream- until my brother reminded me that actually requires you to be a truck driver for many years beforehand. Then there were the standards: musician, cricketer and a designer at Lego. Every Saturday morning crouched in front of the TV watching cartoons, building empires block by block and creating a world that only my yellow headed friends and I knew the history to.
Then somewhere along the way 'dreams' turn into 'goals' and 'day dreaming' turned into 'time wasting'. Suddenly you have to be a big kid and then from no where "BAM!"- you're a grown up so 'dreaming' has become something that little kids do and your day now ends in 'KPI'. You have to create 'goals' and then quietly over time your 'Top Gun' idea flies away, the truck drives off into the sunset and your lego friends are sitting in the town you built wondering if you are ever coming back? And that's cool. We all get it. Life happens. Bills to pay, materialistic possessions to acquire and futures to think about. But we never forget our dreams, they aren't always the same as what they used to be, they have evolved, grown with us, still in the back of our mind, still there whispering in our ears as we speak out loud about our goals. Sometimes they get covered up in the back of the shed next to the cricket bat and lego set until one day you can't even remember if you still have them or what they even look like. It's a tough thing to go looking for them again and it's even tougher to tell someone thats what your looking for. "What are you doing out there in the shed?- Oh nothing, just looking for something"
So how do we recognise our dreams if we have forgotten them? How do we distinguish dreams from goals? I think you know when you verbalise them. Say them out loud or even just with your conscious and what ever comes out easily is a dream and and whatever breeds "buts", "although's" or completion dates is a goal. Dreams are spoken and goals are sighed. You can't put a time limit or a monetary value on them and your reasons for them are kept in the only possession you can take with you- your heart. Some dreams are meant to be put to an end by your brother and some are meant to be there in the background, and it's only you who decides which ones are worth holding on to and which to tape over.
And to my yellow headed friends, I'm sorry I'll be back soon, I just had to see a man about a dog and got a little lost.
Then somewhere along the way 'dreams' turn into 'goals' and 'day dreaming' turned into 'time wasting'. Suddenly you have to be a big kid and then from no where "BAM!"- you're a grown up so 'dreaming' has become something that little kids do and your day now ends in 'KPI'. You have to create 'goals' and then quietly over time your 'Top Gun' idea flies away, the truck drives off into the sunset and your lego friends are sitting in the town you built wondering if you are ever coming back? And that's cool. We all get it. Life happens. Bills to pay, materialistic possessions to acquire and futures to think about. But we never forget our dreams, they aren't always the same as what they used to be, they have evolved, grown with us, still in the back of our mind, still there whispering in our ears as we speak out loud about our goals. Sometimes they get covered up in the back of the shed next to the cricket bat and lego set until one day you can't even remember if you still have them or what they even look like. It's a tough thing to go looking for them again and it's even tougher to tell someone thats what your looking for. "What are you doing out there in the shed?- Oh nothing, just looking for something"
So how do we recognise our dreams if we have forgotten them? How do we distinguish dreams from goals? I think you know when you verbalise them. Say them out loud or even just with your conscious and what ever comes out easily is a dream and and whatever breeds "buts", "although's" or completion dates is a goal. Dreams are spoken and goals are sighed. You can't put a time limit or a monetary value on them and your reasons for them are kept in the only possession you can take with you- your heart. Some dreams are meant to be put to an end by your brother and some are meant to be there in the background, and it's only you who decides which ones are worth holding on to and which to tape over.
And to my yellow headed friends, I'm sorry I'll be back soon, I just had to see a man about a dog and got a little lost.
Wednesday 25 July 2012
Change the world by walking backwards.
A few days ago I went for a walk, crazy I know. I put on sneakers (for sneaking) and everything. It's always a big process before I leave the house because shore line fashion is everything and I need to leave quickly to avoid an uncomfortable conversation with the neighbours about gardening or where I'm from in Scotland. So as I quickly exit the driveway I walk straight forward- blinkers on to evade a potential conversation and more importantly so I don't have to see the the large pots I said I'd paint for my landlord a month ago. What? I've been busy filling my days with avoiding stuff!
Hitting the shoreline I'm in full motion. Tunes are cranking in my ears, swagger is set to 'cool but kind' and always on the lookout to tuck the tummy in if a girl walks past. A little way in to the trip there was some peaceful literature written on the concrete that read "fuck serbs", must be an anti-establishmentarian protesting the suburbs or something. These slogans appear from time to time in chalk on the pavement and as I stepped sideways past the phrase I wondered if their was a local dispute in the making and if there is anything being done about it but I quickly forgot as a change of album was needed on the iPod. I hate when you're struggling to find that one album to go with your mood. Mood: Walking and looking 'cool but kind'. Music: Hardcore with positive undertones. Either way if the track doesn't hit me it's all too easy to change it.
Returning home I was sprung! The neighbour was out watering the garden. I've been in this situation before and it's best just to look in a rush if you want to make it in by night fall. But, she always has a way of sucking you in, it feels like she never draws breath so you don't get a chance to say you have to to go. My walk in the door always ends up being a walk backwards politely nodding and thinking "look lady I don't know what the annual rainfall of Glasgow is and I'm about to miss sports-centre" Maybe next time I'll stop for a proper chat and learn a bit more about her and the neighbourhood from through her eyes.
Now everyone can walk forward, sideways and backwards but the most common form of walking is away. Making a difference that contributes to positive social or environmental change is an evolutionary process that at some point requires one to stay motionless to listen, engage and reflect. It's your right to walk away from matters that may upset you but educating yourself is the single most important thing you can do to contribute to change. Looking up from the pavement to acknowledge the stranger coming toward you, seeing how your neighbour lives and watching the 30 second world news segment in the ad break of sports-centre stimulates questions of relevance and contribution to society. Not everyone is meant to be on the front line, but given change is evolutionary by educating oneself on the way others live and how the way you live directly or indirectly impacts their lives and vice versa will lead to positive change. By moving forward with an open mind, learning and passing your new knowledge on can make an immeasurable difference. You don't have to take to the streets, it can be as easy as the next time your sitting at the dinner table, simply mention what you saw on the news that challenged you and then you can politely change the topic back to taxes and Beiber. This simple act may go unnoticed but it may also falls upon the ears of someone who can again pass it on or make a hands on difference. Making a difference is everyone's responsibility. For society to move forward we need to take a minute, remove the blinkers, stop side stepping and educate ourselves. It can be done as simply as walking backwards to the fridge as you watch the World News segment instead of just changing the channel and walking away.
Hitting the shoreline I'm in full motion. Tunes are cranking in my ears, swagger is set to 'cool but kind' and always on the lookout to tuck the tummy in if a girl walks past. A little way in to the trip there was some peaceful literature written on the concrete that read "fuck serbs", must be an anti-establishmentarian protesting the suburbs or something. These slogans appear from time to time in chalk on the pavement and as I stepped sideways past the phrase I wondered if their was a local dispute in the making and if there is anything being done about it but I quickly forgot as a change of album was needed on the iPod. I hate when you're struggling to find that one album to go with your mood. Mood: Walking and looking 'cool but kind'. Music: Hardcore with positive undertones. Either way if the track doesn't hit me it's all too easy to change it.
Returning home I was sprung! The neighbour was out watering the garden. I've been in this situation before and it's best just to look in a rush if you want to make it in by night fall. But, she always has a way of sucking you in, it feels like she never draws breath so you don't get a chance to say you have to to go. My walk in the door always ends up being a walk backwards politely nodding and thinking "look lady I don't know what the annual rainfall of Glasgow is and I'm about to miss sports-centre" Maybe next time I'll stop for a proper chat and learn a bit more about her and the neighbourhood from through her eyes.
Now everyone can walk forward, sideways and backwards but the most common form of walking is away. Making a difference that contributes to positive social or environmental change is an evolutionary process that at some point requires one to stay motionless to listen, engage and reflect. It's your right to walk away from matters that may upset you but educating yourself is the single most important thing you can do to contribute to change. Looking up from the pavement to acknowledge the stranger coming toward you, seeing how your neighbour lives and watching the 30 second world news segment in the ad break of sports-centre stimulates questions of relevance and contribution to society. Not everyone is meant to be on the front line, but given change is evolutionary by educating oneself on the way others live and how the way you live directly or indirectly impacts their lives and vice versa will lead to positive change. By moving forward with an open mind, learning and passing your new knowledge on can make an immeasurable difference. You don't have to take to the streets, it can be as easy as the next time your sitting at the dinner table, simply mention what you saw on the news that challenged you and then you can politely change the topic back to taxes and Beiber. This simple act may go unnoticed but it may also falls upon the ears of someone who can again pass it on or make a hands on difference. Making a difference is everyone's responsibility. For society to move forward we need to take a minute, remove the blinkers, stop side stepping and educate ourselves. It can be done as simply as walking backwards to the fridge as you watch the World News segment instead of just changing the channel and walking away.
Sunday 8 July 2012
Dear you?
Dear Scenesters, hipsters, fashionistas, the couple who wear matching anything, drivers who stop for pedestrians in the middle of the road, those who can't drive in the wet, you- the guy who cut the line at the coffee shop ("yeah mate we all saw you"), the douche who let the rubbish fall out of the bin then kept walking like nothing happened, the guy who wears a contemporary fashion sailing 'outfit' but has clearly never seen the open sea's, occupy wall street movement supporters (if your'e 'sparing' the time to read this blog your'e already part of the problem (and so am I for having the time to write it) (and what's the problem? well thats subjective)) those who wear too much hair product (including 'surf hair'), the guy who calls the police every time someone is having fun in the street, the person that goes for a jog once a week for 20 minutes that wears 'skins' head to toe (you're a close relative of all fat cyclists who spent too much money on a bicycle that's used 4 times a year), enthusiastic fans of soccer, Queensland and Collingwood supporters, parking attendants, the stranger that doesn't acknowledge that there is someone else on the the footpath("move an equal distance to what I am dickhead"), footy club mentality, VL commodore drivers, petrol heads who have a sticker of a little kid urinating on an automobile manufacturer's name, stickers of stick figure families with their pets, the prick who walks away from their dog shitting in the park, happy meal toys, the asshole who think's its 'cool' to increase the volume of pop music at inappropriate hours of the morning, old mate who thinks no one can see him 'perving' through dark sunglasses, the moron who looks at the Mc Donald's menu on the perspex backing whilst standing at the order station like it's your first time (even my nana knew what was on there and she lived to her late 70's), Kyle Sandilands, water sprinklers that spray onto bitumen or concrete, people that keep checking their smart phones while talking to you (your'e not extra important- your'e just a wanker), rude people who wear sunglasses inside, gits who chew with their mouth open, jerks who leave gum on the bottom of a table, the owner of the brand 'tarocash' and people who wash their car more than they watch what they eat,
Piss Off!
Kind regards,
Everyone.
P.S, please share your peeve... I know you've got one.
Piss Off!
Kind regards,
Everyone.
P.S, please share your peeve... I know you've got one.
Monday 25 June 2012
Dinner with a bum and street car romance.
You may cross the street to avoid them, sometimes pretend you didn't see them and sometimes you just flat out ignore them. I'm not talking about your local 'Greenie' signature catcher, I'm talking about your resident bum. Street person, homeless, begger or bum. What ever label we attached to them we can all picture the last one we met, helped or avoided.
It was a Sunday so naturally it was time for a burger, not a fast food one but a gourmet burger. The type of burger you get from one of those places that is realitively clean, has a funky name, charges too much for fries and somehow still distracts you into thinking that you are eating healthy just because you've got avocado under your 1/2 pound meat patty (delicious).
Walking toward the door I saw him sitting on the telecom box on the opposite side of the footpath. Anticipating dialogue and carrying a few pieces of luggage I thought to myself what an inconvenient time to be asked for loose change but, then again when was there ever going to be a convenient time? I could smell him walking by and he didn't say a word. A little surprised as sometimes 'they' can be quite aggressive in this neighbourhood. I ordered, found a seat by the window and thought about what he could do with the change as I put it back in my wallet. We sat together as I ate. A window and footpath divided us as we tried to avoid looking at each other. After asking a few passers by for change he pulled pizza from a crumpled box and ate with me. We exchanged eye contact and I thought to myself "I'll definitely be asked on the way out" So I started to devise a game plan. Was I going to commit some loose change? Was I going to just keep walking straight? In the end, I'd decided to see how dinner went first.
Later that evening I fell in love with a girl on the street car. When you enter any Public Transport vehicle there's always that moment of frustration as you decide where you're going to sit. Some good will phrases become PT obsolete when selecting a seat. for example: "don't judge a book by its cover" or "it's what's on the inside that counts" because first impressions count! You do not want to end up next to a chatter box, seat hog or stinker. Every once in a while there is a good looking member of the opposite sex and for that brief moment you start to think every hollywood romantic comedy was actually based on real event's and its your turn. It goes the other way too, there is gratification for when a stranger selects you as their 'excursion buddy', makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside that you must look some kind of normal and trustworthy enough to sit next to.
Then it happened, one stop in and she chose to sit next to me! I immediately regretted not seeing the latest Zac Efron soap or 'The Notebook'- where was I gong to pull a corny line from now? I thought about how we were going to one day laugh about how we met each other, I thought about where she must have come from and how creepy it is just thinking about this stuff in the first place. Then the next time the street car doors open she left, only to be forgotten and replaced by a seat hog at the next stop.
Strangers come in and out of our lives everyday. Some more important than others, the importance of strangers and the emotions they evoke are not to be dismissed. They challenge us by coming into our lives uninvited, they inspire us to be or not to be like our perception of them, they can comfort us just by being there like late at night on a lonely street car. We mustn't forget the importance of a chance meeting and the influence strangers have on our day and the days that follow. They help us define ourselves by perception. They contribute to our growth as individuals. Whether it be a lost love on the street car or a bum on the footpath, these instances spark a little more then a few thoughts from time to time. In the aftermath of such events there may be that insightful moment of "damn! thats what I should of said" but if it wasn't for that missed chance you'd never know for when the time is right. Sometimes it's a fleeting moment where you're left wanting more, sometimes it goes way too long and sometimes you share dinner together. What ever the amount of time it may be, it was the right amount.
Later that evening I fell in love with a girl on the street car. When you enter any Public Transport vehicle there's always that moment of frustration as you decide where you're going to sit. Some good will phrases become PT obsolete when selecting a seat. for example: "don't judge a book by its cover" or "it's what's on the inside that counts" because first impressions count! You do not want to end up next to a chatter box, seat hog or stinker. Every once in a while there is a good looking member of the opposite sex and for that brief moment you start to think every hollywood romantic comedy was actually based on real event's and its your turn. It goes the other way too, there is gratification for when a stranger selects you as their 'excursion buddy', makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside that you must look some kind of normal and trustworthy enough to sit next to.
Then it happened, one stop in and she chose to sit next to me! I immediately regretted not seeing the latest Zac Efron soap or 'The Notebook'- where was I gong to pull a corny line from now? I thought about how we were going to one day laugh about how we met each other, I thought about where she must have come from and how creepy it is just thinking about this stuff in the first place. Then the next time the street car doors open she left, only to be forgotten and replaced by a seat hog at the next stop.
Strangers come in and out of our lives everyday. Some more important than others, the importance of strangers and the emotions they evoke are not to be dismissed. They challenge us by coming into our lives uninvited, they inspire us to be or not to be like our perception of them, they can comfort us just by being there like late at night on a lonely street car. We mustn't forget the importance of a chance meeting and the influence strangers have on our day and the days that follow. They help us define ourselves by perception. They contribute to our growth as individuals. Whether it be a lost love on the street car or a bum on the footpath, these instances spark a little more then a few thoughts from time to time. In the aftermath of such events there may be that insightful moment of "damn! thats what I should of said" but if it wasn't for that missed chance you'd never know for when the time is right. Sometimes it's a fleeting moment where you're left wanting more, sometimes it goes way too long and sometimes you share dinner together. What ever the amount of time it may be, it was the right amount.
Tuesday 19 June 2012
To bloke, or not to bloke?
I can't write moral lessons all the time, it's immoral. Since every culture has one and every language has a word for one and I was recently asked to describe what a 'bloke' was, here I go. I didn't really know how to respond. It's an Aussie thing sure but how do you describe a cultural icon? What exactly made a bloke, a bloke? So after a lot of free time, head and moustache scratching this is what I've come up with.
It's hard to describe a human that has no physical characteristic's. I bloke could be any one at any time, you could have a bloke next to you right now. First and foremost a bloke is male. The age of a bloke must be that of 30-35+, this can only be determined by older blokes voicing the term "he's a good young bloke", usually spoken about professional sportsman who by nature usually retire within that bracket. This statement alone suggests that being a bloke is not something that you can achieve in your early years nor be rewarded with, it's a title you have to earn. Self proclamation would only result in prolonging the process of 'blokery'.*
So what are the defining behavioural patterns of this social anomaly? To best describe this guy we have to contextualise and what better way than by using a social setting that every one can identify with.... the pub!
When meeting other blokes and their partners down the tavern for a few beers, dinner and a chin wag a bloke always turns up 5-10 minutes late, its not a fashion or attention seeking thing- he has a genuine excuse, like he got caught up putting away the BBQ from the footy club fundraiser. Upon entry he always says hello first, deliver's good handshakes and kiss's on the cheeks. From there he 'bloke's up'** and heads to the bar to ensure he gets a beer in that hand straight away (just in case there is dancing later) and makes sure his lady friend has a 'chardy' or 'shandy'- chivalry is not dead to a bloke. As is custom, the bloke and his partner go their separate ways. Bloke's with bloke's, girl's with the girl's- it's been that way from the beginning of time. Adam was the first one to break that tradition when he stayed with Eve (therefore Adam can not be a bloke).
When 'bloking out'*** and conversing a bloke always offer's support to a friend by firstly insulting them and then telling them they are "alright", mostly because it's important to maintain a sense of confidence and respect from other bloke's. This respect is what navigate's a bloke through his friendships. There are a lot of thing's you can do to become one but there are more things you can do to lose the title, so here are a few simple guidelines to live by if you are striving to become a bloke:
A bloke does not wear Crocs.
A bloke does not secretly order himself a light beer in a round.
A bloke does not agree to watching a 'chick flick' unless he has negotiated a better deal for himself.
A bloke does not know what 'dad jokes' are- they're just jokes.
A bloke does not ask for directions.
A bloke does not go into the cubicle to pee.
A bloke tries to have a little bit of everything on his fork at the same time while eating.
A bloke boast's to other bloke's about how 'hung over' he was.
A bloke know's how to give a good handshake.
A bloke will always pronounced his statements while seeking approval eg: "Gee's, it's cold isn't it?"
A bloke always wants socks and undies for christmas.
A bloke helps a bloke move.
Key:
*Blokery: the past tense of becoming or art of being a bloke.
**Bloke up: the initial procedure to getting shit done.
***Bloking out: spending time with other bloke's.
So if you love him or hate him the bloke is already part of your life. Feel free to add your thoughts or experiences of this faceless man below.
It's hard to describe a human that has no physical characteristic's. I bloke could be any one at any time, you could have a bloke next to you right now. First and foremost a bloke is male. The age of a bloke must be that of 30-35+, this can only be determined by older blokes voicing the term "he's a good young bloke", usually spoken about professional sportsman who by nature usually retire within that bracket. This statement alone suggests that being a bloke is not something that you can achieve in your early years nor be rewarded with, it's a title you have to earn. Self proclamation would only result in prolonging the process of 'blokery'.*
So what are the defining behavioural patterns of this social anomaly? To best describe this guy we have to contextualise and what better way than by using a social setting that every one can identify with.... the pub!
When meeting other blokes and their partners down the tavern for a few beers, dinner and a chin wag a bloke always turns up 5-10 minutes late, its not a fashion or attention seeking thing- he has a genuine excuse, like he got caught up putting away the BBQ from the footy club fundraiser. Upon entry he always says hello first, deliver's good handshakes and kiss's on the cheeks. From there he 'bloke's up'** and heads to the bar to ensure he gets a beer in that hand straight away (just in case there is dancing later) and makes sure his lady friend has a 'chardy' or 'shandy'- chivalry is not dead to a bloke. As is custom, the bloke and his partner go their separate ways. Bloke's with bloke's, girl's with the girl's- it's been that way from the beginning of time. Adam was the first one to break that tradition when he stayed with Eve (therefore Adam can not be a bloke).
When 'bloking out'*** and conversing a bloke always offer's support to a friend by firstly insulting them and then telling them they are "alright", mostly because it's important to maintain a sense of confidence and respect from other bloke's. This respect is what navigate's a bloke through his friendships. There are a lot of thing's you can do to become one but there are more things you can do to lose the title, so here are a few simple guidelines to live by if you are striving to become a bloke:
A bloke does not wear Crocs.
A bloke does not secretly order himself a light beer in a round.
A bloke does not agree to watching a 'chick flick' unless he has negotiated a better deal for himself.
A bloke does not know what 'dad jokes' are- they're just jokes.
A bloke does not ask for directions.
A bloke does not go into the cubicle to pee.
A bloke tries to have a little bit of everything on his fork at the same time while eating.
A bloke boast's to other bloke's about how 'hung over' he was.
A bloke know's how to give a good handshake.
A bloke will always pronounced his statements while seeking approval eg: "Gee's, it's cold isn't it?"
A bloke always wants socks and undies for christmas.
A bloke helps a bloke move.
Key:
*Blokery: the past tense of becoming or art of being a bloke.
**Bloke up: the initial procedure to getting shit done.
***Bloking out: spending time with other bloke's.
So if you love him or hate him the bloke is already part of your life. Feel free to add your thoughts or experiences of this faceless man below.
Wednesday 13 June 2012
The Fresh Prince waits for no one.
"Not here, what's this idiot doing, c'mon- I'm going to miss it!" Small town streets are always crowded toward the end of the day and there's no where for the school bus to stop. As we came into town I always urged the driver to pull over straight away as it was closer to my road but all too often the station wagon's and utes that lined the thorough-fair added more to the walk home.
"If this dick head goes past the milk bar I'm going to lose it, It's already 10 to 4" It was true, the bus driver didn't know what I was up against, 10 mins to get home- like to see him try. 'The Fresh Prince of Belair' was on at 4 and I didn't want to miss it. I used to watch it with my next door neighbour, he went to a different school and his bus always ran on time and dropped him at an easier spot too. Although he was always home before me I found comfort in that his school's uniform was poo brown in colour.
It always seemed to be hot when I had somewhere to be. Pretty sure Channel 9 only used to air 'TPOB' in spring or summer because that 4 o'clock deadline always seemed to have the odds stacked against it. Why couldn't they have aired in the winter instead of 'Cheers', I mean I love 'Cheers' but when it comes to a one on one with 'The Fresh Prince'..... pfft, not even Woody could beat Will's rapper charm. I once met a kid on holidays who prided himself on knowing all the words to 'Boom' by 'Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince'. Even then I wanted to tell him he was an idiot but he got a mini TV for Christmas so it was in my best interests to be friends in the hope I'd be able to watch Warnie bowl in the cricket.
There was a certain tactic to getting home that was a daily ritual. Step 1- March past the milk bar and resist the temptation of a 'big boss' musk stick. Step 2- Put your head down rounding the corner of the hair dresser just in case you made awkward eye contact with the one who gave your last bad hair cut and then, Step 3- Walk the hill. I hated that hill. Before I could taste the dirt of our road I had to first climb that hill. An average day to get up that hill would take a good 15 minutes with mindless meandering and stalling as you hoped for a lift. On the other hand, a personal best of 6 mins 27 secs to get home was a ball tearer! I can confidently say I went through some character developing moments on that hill. Legend had it that a kid once went down on his bmx wearing only shorts and thongs and lost all his skin after a fall. It was a hill to fear.
When you reach the top you've got to walk past that dodgy house on the corner. There was always older kids outside who gave you shit as you walked past and everyday you hoped they weren't there. Nowadays you can see them down the street and give them a look thats says "ahh its you, looks like you're still a dick head"
Around the corner and it's the final stretch, the long dirt road. God forbid the council had just grated it, that just made it tougher to navigate the walk. To anyone else it wasn't a problem but, to these little legs any loose gravel was an obstacle. Walking that road on a hot day felt like you were in a desert. No shade from the gums, each passing car layered you in a dusty blanket and not a short cut in sight. At this point there was a light at the end of the tunnel though, or in this case a tunnel of Eucalyptus branches at the end of the road. Reaching that tunnel gave you new hope, a new energy, from there it was smooth sailing, those Clark's school shoes kicked in a new gear and your defeated slouch turned into a triumphant march toward the driveway. 60, 58, 56, 54, 52- I'm Home! running up that driveway you can almost hear Will's first joke about Carlton's ignorance. As you put the key in the door the theme song was playing in your head like a victorious ballad. Inside on the slate floor the air engulf's you like air from the open meat and dairy fridges at the supermarket. Shoes and shirt off you lunge for the tv remote. "Shit, ads are on!" thats okay though, still time to run to the freezer and get a sunny boy and make this day one to remember. The last 10 seconds of a ch. 9 ad about 'Hey Hey' is on and you know it's coming, sure you've probably missed the song but that's okay because Youtube was only 10 short years away and you could watch it whenever you wanted then. Yessssssss! back from commercial break, this is going to be awesome! and then, "Shit! it's a bloody repeat"
It's a fair judgement that the Fresh Prince was an important part of my day which I stressed over. In hind sight it wasn't so much the show but the importance of being home, spending time with friends and life's little luxury of a 'sunny boy' on a hot day. Looking back I can laugh that that was the most important thing going on in my life (more important than homework and girls) which allows me to laugh at any current situation which may be causing worry. So matter the hill's you're climbing or the long dusty stretches of road to walk (metaphor's to die for...), find your Fresh Prince of Bel air and laugh a little.
"If this dick head goes past the milk bar I'm going to lose it, It's already 10 to 4" It was true, the bus driver didn't know what I was up against, 10 mins to get home- like to see him try. 'The Fresh Prince of Belair' was on at 4 and I didn't want to miss it. I used to watch it with my next door neighbour, he went to a different school and his bus always ran on time and dropped him at an easier spot too. Although he was always home before me I found comfort in that his school's uniform was poo brown in colour.
It always seemed to be hot when I had somewhere to be. Pretty sure Channel 9 only used to air 'TPOB' in spring or summer because that 4 o'clock deadline always seemed to have the odds stacked against it. Why couldn't they have aired in the winter instead of 'Cheers', I mean I love 'Cheers' but when it comes to a one on one with 'The Fresh Prince'..... pfft, not even Woody could beat Will's rapper charm. I once met a kid on holidays who prided himself on knowing all the words to 'Boom' by 'Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince'. Even then I wanted to tell him he was an idiot but he got a mini TV for Christmas so it was in my best interests to be friends in the hope I'd be able to watch Warnie bowl in the cricket.
There was a certain tactic to getting home that was a daily ritual. Step 1- March past the milk bar and resist the temptation of a 'big boss' musk stick. Step 2- Put your head down rounding the corner of the hair dresser just in case you made awkward eye contact with the one who gave your last bad hair cut and then, Step 3- Walk the hill. I hated that hill. Before I could taste the dirt of our road I had to first climb that hill. An average day to get up that hill would take a good 15 minutes with mindless meandering and stalling as you hoped for a lift. On the other hand, a personal best of 6 mins 27 secs to get home was a ball tearer! I can confidently say I went through some character developing moments on that hill. Legend had it that a kid once went down on his bmx wearing only shorts and thongs and lost all his skin after a fall. It was a hill to fear.
When you reach the top you've got to walk past that dodgy house on the corner. There was always older kids outside who gave you shit as you walked past and everyday you hoped they weren't there. Nowadays you can see them down the street and give them a look thats says "ahh its you, looks like you're still a dick head"
Around the corner and it's the final stretch, the long dirt road. God forbid the council had just grated it, that just made it tougher to navigate the walk. To anyone else it wasn't a problem but, to these little legs any loose gravel was an obstacle. Walking that road on a hot day felt like you were in a desert. No shade from the gums, each passing car layered you in a dusty blanket and not a short cut in sight. At this point there was a light at the end of the tunnel though, or in this case a tunnel of Eucalyptus branches at the end of the road. Reaching that tunnel gave you new hope, a new energy, from there it was smooth sailing, those Clark's school shoes kicked in a new gear and your defeated slouch turned into a triumphant march toward the driveway. 60, 58, 56, 54, 52- I'm Home! running up that driveway you can almost hear Will's first joke about Carlton's ignorance. As you put the key in the door the theme song was playing in your head like a victorious ballad. Inside on the slate floor the air engulf's you like air from the open meat and dairy fridges at the supermarket. Shoes and shirt off you lunge for the tv remote. "Shit, ads are on!" thats okay though, still time to run to the freezer and get a sunny boy and make this day one to remember. The last 10 seconds of a ch. 9 ad about 'Hey Hey' is on and you know it's coming, sure you've probably missed the song but that's okay because Youtube was only 10 short years away and you could watch it whenever you wanted then. Yessssssss! back from commercial break, this is going to be awesome! and then, "Shit! it's a bloody repeat"
It's a fair judgement that the Fresh Prince was an important part of my day which I stressed over. In hind sight it wasn't so much the show but the importance of being home, spending time with friends and life's little luxury of a 'sunny boy' on a hot day. Looking back I can laugh that that was the most important thing going on in my life (more important than homework and girls) which allows me to laugh at any current situation which may be causing worry. So matter the hill's you're climbing or the long dusty stretches of road to walk (metaphor's to die for...), find your Fresh Prince of Bel air and laugh a little.
Monday 4 June 2012
Rocks on the tracks go 'bang'!
'BANG'! and the cry of laughter consumes and disorientates you for a moment before someone calls out "Run!" It never really makes sense why you did it, it never really made sense when you were on the way to do it, it still doesn't make any sense but gee it's exhilarating. I can't remember the day of the week, I can't remember how old but, I remember the sense of guilt, pride and camaraderie that came with it. It was fun, it was dangerous and if Mum found out we were dead.
It must of been summer, the air so still all you could hear was the sound of bugs in the air as you chased the haze coming off the metro train tracks. Too young to wear sunglasses and too forgetful to wear a hat so with each step you take your trying to keep the sun from your eyes with one hand while the other over the top of your nogon just in case your head caught on fire. The whole time your walking alongside the tracks with your mates all you can think of is the last thing Mum said as you were slamming the car door in her face: "Don't play near the train tracks". At that age it feels like the trees have eyes and are whispering the same words, with each pace a quick look over the shoulder just to see if you can catch them talking, it was as if they were passing the message back up the line where Mum was waiting for the tip off.
Growing up near the end of the line there was a lot of track that ran through the bush between each of the last stations. Plenty of bush lands to explore, plenty of mischief to be had. Throwing rocks, throwing sticks, getting mud on your pants, starting the odd fire (if it wasn't fire season of course), building cubbies and if you could combine all of those well, that was a good day! Playing near the tracks was dangerous- Mum said so, everyone heard 'that' story about 'that' kid from 'that' school who got killed doing the same thing last year. 'That story' scared the shit out you but, we were different, we could run faster, hide better and not get caught. It's this difference that now makes you think if it was bravery or naivety.
I wasn't that big of a kid, in fact I was tiny but I had two undeniable super powers. I was a smart arse and I could throw a rock like a bullet. It all comes down to good rock selection, only idiots pick up massive cinder blocks. C'mon, once you've thrown a 'skimmer' across a dam or into the ocean it doesn't take long to figure out that you look for one that's a little more aero dynamic. Good rock selection skills bleed into other important area's like good stick selection. Good selection was paramount when choosing the right rocks to put on the train tracks. Choose the right one and you get that explosion that shutters your spine as your shaking in your hiding spot.
While walking beside the track that first train catches you unaware and everyone scammers to find a tree to hide behind, a wombat hole to take cover in or last resort to dive for that high patch of stabbing grass to lay beneath. "Did the driver see us?", "Do you think he's radioing the cops?", all questions that kept the adrenaline going as we plotted for the big one. Exploding rocks on the tracks was a big one. It's one you didn't talk about at school in case a teacher found out, it's one where you're really careful about who's present when you do it, it's borderline international espionage type stuff, the big one.
It was naughty, it was really naughty. Playing by the train tracks was getting a smack on the arse type material but when you got back into the car at the end of the day and Mum asks what you got up to there is only one response..... "not much". Then you shut up. Try and change the subject, "What's for tea?" was a favourite. The whole time butterfly's raging in your stomach that the tree's got the message up the line and she was just playing with you because she knew. That trip home can seem forever, and then she stops and treats you to fish'n'chips for tea and your thinking "Gees I'm in real trouble now if she finds out". Guilt has settled in for the rest of the night.
A pivotal point in social development is when a child first figures out how to lie. Rocks on the tracks in hind sight can be viewed as childhood mischief and good social development with maintaing friendships. With that said has pushing boundaries of what you could get away with at that age and the lack corrective punishment have dramatic ramifications on your relationships later in life? Has this continued to where you have a need to keep pushing those boundaries of risk in your personal or professional life to a point of self destruction? Has the naughty kid grown up and learnt their lesson or are they still inside waiting to get caught?
Mum never found out by the way.... until now.
Sunday 27 May 2012
They Want, They Vaunt, I Vent.
"Hi, may I please have .............., thank you" Now, that wasn't so hard- was it? Did our emerging affluent society lose it's manners in the drive through?
It was only a matter of time before it got to me. I should of known better, I should of known better than to keep listening in but, like when someone tells you you have a spot on your shirt, suddenly thats all you can see. It's been a re-occruing itch over the past few months and today whilst taking another step toward gluttony it happened again, the words "please" or "thank you" were not used in the line ahead of me.
I was always getting told how impatient I was growing up, naturally I dismissed this life lesson as a cover for how long the person was taking at the time. I think your manners must be kept somewhere between the back of your head and your ear, as that seems to be where they are beaten into you as a child. Maybe to be a keeper of manners comes the responsibility of advocating them. "Patience is a virtue", right? Maybe it's a virtue too old fashioned for this day and age, maybe the new virtues for instant 'street cred' include: wearing your sun glasses inside, chewing with your mouth open and not saying 'please' and 'thank you'? Nope, Nup and No- Patience and good manner's are still an important part of your responsibility as a person, like showering, cleaning up your dog's poop in the park and making fun of Nickelback.
Today I visited a burger chain (my own fault I know but it's Sunday and I've been good all week). With each customer before me I never heard those easy to pronounce words once, not once! Now I don't think these words are that hard to say. When given a service or even a stranger favour like when someone keeps a door open for you, a polite verbal gesture of appreciation should be as physically engrained as putting a seat belt on- It's amazing how much of a difference it can make to one's day. So where did society's manners go? Have they slipped in to an alternate universe with the 'The Timekeeper's' socks? (Reference to book by Emily Rodda (Book: a written or printed work of fiction or nonfiction, usually on sheets of paper fastened or bound together with covers))
Modern society has come to expect things fast, not even fast anymore, just 'now'. Making phone calls, internet in your hand and food service at a drive through have sped up our expectation of what's reasonable. Through a financial boom and consequent self analysis of class (a blog for another time) have our manners been lost to expectation of privileges? I believe now more than ever 'privileges' are being perceived as 'rights'. Greater society is starting to forget that service and kind gestures are not a right but a privilege for all of us to enjoy and appreciate.
With that said there's only one man who can sum it up and give us a swift back-hand to the manner's area of our heads. This man share's the same religion as Charles Manson and starred in cinema classic's 'Cocktail', 'Mission Impossible 2' and 'Vanilla Sky', please let the Maverick Tom Cruise remind us all to "Put your manner's back in!"
It was only a matter of time before it got to me. I should of known better, I should of known better than to keep listening in but, like when someone tells you you have a spot on your shirt, suddenly thats all you can see. It's been a re-occruing itch over the past few months and today whilst taking another step toward gluttony it happened again, the words "please" or "thank you" were not used in the line ahead of me.
I was always getting told how impatient I was growing up, naturally I dismissed this life lesson as a cover for how long the person was taking at the time. I think your manners must be kept somewhere between the back of your head and your ear, as that seems to be where they are beaten into you as a child. Maybe to be a keeper of manners comes the responsibility of advocating them. "Patience is a virtue", right? Maybe it's a virtue too old fashioned for this day and age, maybe the new virtues for instant 'street cred' include: wearing your sun glasses inside, chewing with your mouth open and not saying 'please' and 'thank you'? Nope, Nup and No- Patience and good manner's are still an important part of your responsibility as a person, like showering, cleaning up your dog's poop in the park and making fun of Nickelback.
Today I visited a burger chain (my own fault I know but it's Sunday and I've been good all week). With each customer before me I never heard those easy to pronounce words once, not once! Now I don't think these words are that hard to say. When given a service or even a stranger favour like when someone keeps a door open for you, a polite verbal gesture of appreciation should be as physically engrained as putting a seat belt on- It's amazing how much of a difference it can make to one's day. So where did society's manners go? Have they slipped in to an alternate universe with the 'The Timekeeper's' socks? (Reference to book by Emily Rodda (Book: a written or printed work of fiction or nonfiction, usually on sheets of paper fastened or bound together with covers))
Modern society has come to expect things fast, not even fast anymore, just 'now'. Making phone calls, internet in your hand and food service at a drive through have sped up our expectation of what's reasonable. Through a financial boom and consequent self analysis of class (a blog for another time) have our manners been lost to expectation of privileges? I believe now more than ever 'privileges' are being perceived as 'rights'. Greater society is starting to forget that service and kind gestures are not a right but a privilege for all of us to enjoy and appreciate.
With that said there's only one man who can sum it up and give us a swift back-hand to the manner's area of our heads. This man share's the same religion as Charles Manson and starred in cinema classic's 'Cocktail', 'Mission Impossible 2' and 'Vanilla Sky', please let the Maverick Tom Cruise remind us all to "Put your manner's back in!"
Friday 25 May 2012
Today I saw an over weight man dressed like a Japanese school girl.
Today I saw an over weight man dressed like a Japanese school girl, I wish I had taken a photo but I don't believe in Instagram and I didn't have my camera handy. This picture would have told more than a thousand words but, we don't have one so I'm going to describe it in under a thousand for you.
It's one of those moment's that just paralyses your body and you are totally locked into the experience before you, with all of it happening within the blink of an eye. These are the moments that you keep repeating in your head for days to try and capture the feeling you had at the time. They're the moments that you keep pressing play, pause and rewind on just to see if you can spot anything else. The super 'slow mo' visual with all other senses attached that is often looked back on as a game changer. So how is a tubby guy in short shorts a game changer? Let me set the scene....
It was hot, I had every window down in the min-van I could, with stop-start traffic it was getting harder to get air through the car. I was attempting the 'one hand steer while leaning over to the back seat to reach a half empty water bottle' when a pair of blue and pink lined hot shorts caught the corner of my left eye and subsequently all of my attention. The water bottle could wait, I had some staring to take of.
With the traffic temporally halted from a slow tram I managed to get a look of this glorious creature struggling to walk along the broken foot path outside a shop window in high heeled flip flops. It was only a glimpse before I had to pay attention to the road again but long enough to notice the white collared shirt tied off above the beer belly. The pony tail positioned to the side of long hair that looked as though it had either been bleached by the sun and salt water or had numerous tubs of 'Garnier Fructis Surf Hair' permed through it. Under the harsh midday sun that bounced off the pale concrete and sun glasses you still had to squint, which made you ask: "was this really happening?"
But the couture isn't enough to make it a game changer, it's all the little things, the first 999 words about a picture don't mean a thing until you get to 1000. The one thing, the one simple little thing that made this moment repeat in my head another 2 or 3 blocks and made me smile was this. An act we all do, every day. Some more than others. Some too much.
He was looking at himself in the reflection of the shop window and was 100% happy with what he saw. How do I know he was looking at himself? The shop didn't have anything in the window, it was a vacant shop.
To popular culture this guy is alternative. I'm confident this guy had plenty more staring at him that day through condescending eyes. For the next 2-3 blocks I was at first jealous, jealous he could be totally comfortable with what he saw. We are after all, our own worst critics and I consider myself lucky enough to be witness to this moment of inspiration. As quirky this character may have been he reinforced in me that before you can really be happy with yourself you have to accept what ever it is your struggling with first.
Then find your closest Sears and try on a pair of blue short shorts.
It's one of those moment's that just paralyses your body and you are totally locked into the experience before you, with all of it happening within the blink of an eye. These are the moments that you keep repeating in your head for days to try and capture the feeling you had at the time. They're the moments that you keep pressing play, pause and rewind on just to see if you can spot anything else. The super 'slow mo' visual with all other senses attached that is often looked back on as a game changer. So how is a tubby guy in short shorts a game changer? Let me set the scene....
It was hot, I had every window down in the min-van I could, with stop-start traffic it was getting harder to get air through the car. I was attempting the 'one hand steer while leaning over to the back seat to reach a half empty water bottle' when a pair of blue and pink lined hot shorts caught the corner of my left eye and subsequently all of my attention. The water bottle could wait, I had some staring to take of.
With the traffic temporally halted from a slow tram I managed to get a look of this glorious creature struggling to walk along the broken foot path outside a shop window in high heeled flip flops. It was only a glimpse before I had to pay attention to the road again but long enough to notice the white collared shirt tied off above the beer belly. The pony tail positioned to the side of long hair that looked as though it had either been bleached by the sun and salt water or had numerous tubs of 'Garnier Fructis Surf Hair' permed through it. Under the harsh midday sun that bounced off the pale concrete and sun glasses you still had to squint, which made you ask: "was this really happening?"
But the couture isn't enough to make it a game changer, it's all the little things, the first 999 words about a picture don't mean a thing until you get to 1000. The one thing, the one simple little thing that made this moment repeat in my head another 2 or 3 blocks and made me smile was this. An act we all do, every day. Some more than others. Some too much.
He was looking at himself in the reflection of the shop window and was 100% happy with what he saw. How do I know he was looking at himself? The shop didn't have anything in the window, it was a vacant shop.
To popular culture this guy is alternative. I'm confident this guy had plenty more staring at him that day through condescending eyes. For the next 2-3 blocks I was at first jealous, jealous he could be totally comfortable with what he saw. We are after all, our own worst critics and I consider myself lucky enough to be witness to this moment of inspiration. As quirky this character may have been he reinforced in me that before you can really be happy with yourself you have to accept what ever it is your struggling with first.
Then find your closest Sears and try on a pair of blue short shorts.
Wednesday 23 May 2012
No time for the toilet in this digital age.
The first blog is the deepest, so why not start with some toilet humour.
When are we free in this digital age? Sitting at the traffic light, we check our smart phone's for emails. Before we wake up in the morning and open our eye lids we are reaching to open the laptop lid for facebook. A 'lul' in conversation and we look to check the latest sporting scores on TV. It was a personal choice with each new device and application we let into our lives and it's up to the individual to determine their legitimacy in one's life moving forward. It's reached a point recently where I knew some things need to get back to the way they were, needing to get back to basics- I'm talking about finding that time in your life again where nothing can distract you.
Some years ago when the grass was a healthy shade of 'naive green' I had an epiphany. The discussion of "when are you truly free?"was well underway and a few beers in I needed to go to the washroom for a no. 1, at this point heckling from the discussion table continued and I thought to myself: "you can never get a moments peace, except when......"
Except when you are doing a no. 2! No. 2's is your time! It's a basic human function that needs to be fulfilled and no one, no one can interrupt. As a, let's called it a 'performer' of a no. 2, as a performer you can not physically stop what you are doing. Find me someone who can stop and I'll high 5 them!... after they've washed their hands. Every one has their own ritual, each performance has it's own credentials, each performer has their favourite parts to the ritual and each performer know's that if any one knocks on that door there is no way they are getting in. As a, let's call it a 'door knocker', as a door knocker you know once you hear a movement, a peep, a squeak or a mumble from behind that door you are off limits and there is nothing you can do about it. What ever the pressing matter may be that has to be discussed right away, you know it just got parked until the performance has finished.
Now the door knocker comes in varying forms and a the repeat offender is the phone in the pocket. It may ring, you can ignore it. It might 'beep' for a text, viber, whatsapp, skype or voxer message (app list could go on), you can still ignore it. When these alerts go off the performer is in a position of power, they know they can't be taken away from their business at hand. Which brings us to the point where we are truly free, when we are engaging in a performance that if not completed could be life threatening! The bodily act of number 2 gives you a freedom throne where you are king for as long as it takes, as many times a day or week or month that is needed.
So as human nature (not the boy band) has separated the performers from the door knockers and allowed us to be free we have a new enemy of freedom. Ourselves. With the world in our pockets, the smart phone holds so many applications to distract the performer to engage with the world beyond that door. With this in mind, have you ever facebooked, made a call, or received a call while taking care of business and thus given up your freedom?
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