Barriers build muscle character

These fingers don't react the way I want them to. The way I want them to tell a story. It's been so long. It's been so long it's like they are angry at me for neglecting the process. The process of creation they were once use to. Muscle memory is not the memory you really think of. The process of freedom of expression. Fingers tip toe across the keys in an order they are not use to.  It's liberating to do so yet unsettling. They've missed the creation process. They've missed the warmth and comfort that the blank screen gives and the illuminated keys give. It's the honesty in purity. They've missed it and, I feel guilty for them.

I bought a desk and a chair recently. It took 8 months to get this desk and chair so I can hover above the keyboard to stretch my fingers over. Upon refection, the strain in my fingers helped me realise I needed them. 

Yet, and not too soon, I reflected upon the barriers of validation to exercise this expression. I put up barriers in the form of excuses in an attempt to justify the delay. 

There's no harm in it, it's a perfectly natural thing. We have learnt to put barriers up to protect ourselves. They come in many shapes and forms. We use them. We dispose of those in our way and, we ignore them. When they're you're own, they're that much more precious. Ever so precious. When they're your own they're just an innocent excusable barrier to oneself. Dismissible like a 6pm news piece. And that's where we draw the line. What makes our personal barriers more or less insignificant to the world around you? 

Thats a news-spot regardless, the 6pm news spot serves its purpose. The stable. The constant. With each key stroke together, each new stroke considers and begins to break down personal expectations, and we continue to break it down further, from expectations imposed on us by the language we speak to the tone. The volume. The affections. The sighs and even the highs. 

These mannerisms are a behavioural trait we cannot ignore. Where do these barriers come from? Were they our choice? Were they YOUR choice? Of course they were. Of course they were. Every decision we have made is ours: Recognise fool. 

Once we recognise the decision making process it becomes less difficult. And, it can be difficult at times. These decisions, although ill fated at times all serve their purpose for the process. Without these barriers we wouldn't have let the full course of the process run. After all, the process is yours and it should be celebrated. High 5 your friends. High 5 a stranger. Sit in a cafe and smile. All acts are displays of self. Dependant, dependant on the foregoing conclusions and challenges. 

There is no science. Only challenges. Only keys. Only spell check and sometimes shaky finger nervousness of speaking their mind. 

Monkey Bars and Mistakes Pt.1

I fucking loved the monkey bars in the playground as a kid. In my primary school there was a set that seemed larger than what was at a circus and by today’s standards, was definitely illegal. I was never a big kid. In fact I never really grew but used to hang out with the big kids. Although my size did allow for some nimble moves while playing tag on the bars it was my tongue that grew quicker than the rest. These monkey bars seemed about 10 feet off the ground and went in four directions like points on a compass. Whilst playing tag 10 ft in the air if you dropped to the ground you were immediately 'it' and the fun could only be ended by the school bell calling you back to class.

I never knew about these monkey bars before. I'd been at the school for 5 years and rarely been to this corner of the yard but while wandering aimlessly one day they appeared like a jungle gym oasis - not even ice cream cake at a McDonald's birthday party came close to these bad boys.
The discovery wasn't about the bars themselves but a group of friends that were made quickly. Sure, we had shared class before, maybe even a slice of ice cream cake here and there but they weren't the kids I would generally hang out with. These were the monkey bar kids (no relation to the 'Milky Bar Kid'). The monkey bars and the hidden pocket of the playground occupied my recess and lunch time for many weeks. Occasionally, my usual big kid friends would be drifting past during a huge school wide game of tag and stop to mock the fact I was hanging out on the bars. Kids can be so cruel.
Some time later, school camp was on the horizon and with it comes discussion on who you were going to share a room with. It was a natural choice - the monkey bar kids. It was a big day, the biggest of all. Grades 5 and 6 met in the Multi Purpose Room (used for school gym, dance hall, TV room and craft sales) for a camp briefing and to make your roomie selection official. There I sat with the monkey bar kids making and discussing plans for fart and water bomb tomfoolery when one of the big kids approached with an invitation to join their room.
There were three moments of pain that followed. The first is when I returned to the monkey bar kids to inform them of my broken promise and that I would be staying in the big kids’ room. Their feeling of betrayal was obvious. The second came on day one of camp when I walked into the big kids’ room and wished I hadn’t. I knew I was in for a long week. The third, a week after camp when I returned to the monkey bars and realised things had changed. I'd hurt my new friends and realised how my decision had become a mistake. Maybe for this story’s sake, at least it was a realisation of the type of mistake that impacts others and your relationship with them. The school bell had well? and truly rung.
Making mistakes that affect others are the hardest of all to deal with. It's not just your emotions to manage anymore but the knowledge that your actions have direct consequences on other parties and make you question what led you to that point in the first place. Once you reach that conclusion of the action process it becomes a process of acceptance in the hope to achieve forgiveness - both within yourself and the party you hurt.
We all stuff up at some point. Making mistakes is part of the growing process and unfortunately being a casualty is also. Learning from them is the hard part. And then, then you have to put that lesson into action (even harder). So what is the process of forgiveness and what is needed to achieve it?
For the victim, forgiveness of the aggressor can only come from within as you try and understand your own misjudgment and action process. As the victim you have the option of igniting an offensive flame that may never stop burning or challenge yourself to understand your aggressors’ action path and walk it with them.
From the perspective of the mistake maker, self acceptance of misjudgment is the first step to forgiveness, although this achievement may not come easily. Or does internal forgiveness manifest itself by exemplifying the lesson learned every day in your actions until it leads to the path to self redemption?
Either way, both paths to forgiveness are long and will continue to present themselves in some form, but it's whether you decide to take them. 

John Travolta metaphorical chalk struts

Ever had a dream? Not like a sleep at night kinda dream but a hope around one particular aspect of your life. Discovering various stages in the pursuit of a dream comes in varying forms and is as exciting as the dream itself. That pursuit is stressful. It's hard. It's rewarding. And, a piece of metaphorical chalk could help along the way.
I've written before about the liberation once you've realised your dream. The personal triumph it takes to say it out loud and even tell your friends that this is what you want. Big first step thats for sure! Mark it down with a piece of metaphorical chalk on the ground and start moving. Things move quickly, filled with confidence and new found mental freedom the steps become strides and sometimes John Travolta struts. Momentum builds as you start to uncover the path to your dream, the obstacles disappear quickly and soon enough you look back and you can't see that line you drew because you've come so far so quickly.
Now, standing so far away from the line it's easy to think it may not be there, that chalk on the ground faded or got covered up with new memories. It's still there and it's worth going back to take a look at. Go back over that line and rejoice in that milestone. It's important to build future faith in your abilities and that comes from reflection on past achievements. So thats cool, you had a look and got some confidence back. You now remember what you were strutting towards. Mark that point down. It's a milestone too, you've just learnt that even if you lose sight of your achievements it doesn't mean you've lost your strut.
Back on the path to dream realisation and sometimes the fear of failure starts to set in. You suddenly retreat to a slow walk again as you cautiously navigate your next steps. Self doubt is inherent and an important part of the process that must be addressed. Get that metaphorical chalk out, you are going to need it to get through this one. These are small steps as the inner battles are driven by the nearing of reality. It is just quite possible that this dream could come true and the fear of losing it to the world is over whelming. It's your dream and if it comes true it means its out of your head and real. That will result in others knowing about it and the risk of it not being yours anymore is scary. Like getting to the end of a book and wondering what your going to do next after going on an emotional roller coaster for the past few hundred pages. This is what you wanted, this dream exists to be shared. This dream was never only yours, they exist so others can enjoy them also. If they are not for others benefit than they are just goals, and goals are common. Dreams, dreams are one of a kind. This is the scary awesome fun part. Mark a line here because this will be the last one. Sorry John Travolta no chalk necessary from here on in we are only strutting! Taking it to the world was what it was meant for and it's the unknown we are in search of. We already know what life is like with them inside, we dream them, we pursue them, we strut with them and then we release them to find out why it is they came to us.
And once the dream is out, get a new piece of chalk. It's time to start over with a new one.

The English language is becoming an arthritic disease.

So wassup wit eng 2day? lol. Totes dif 2 b4 rite? n omg hav u sn tht nu app- wats wit dat? Txt tlk is wak yo!
I'm sure there is more, I know there is more but I'm happy thats all the lazy txt-lish I know. Seems with each new conversation that starts, communication as we know it dies a little. I get it, slang is a communication form that encourages familiarity and strength in relationships. I just don't get why it has to be so coded. Isn't the english language loaded enough? Slang is hard enough to understand sometimes let alone creating modern age hilogriphics. Not even Jack Kerouac made reading slang this difficult.
Rant over.

Generation 'O'

School holidays meant a few things growing up. No school (rad!), Sleep ins (sick one!) and Day time TV (booyah!). Back then you had the greats, Donahue, Ricki Lake and Sally Jessie Raphael to name a few. None of this over acted, dramatised entertain-talk junk like Dr. Phil and the notorious Jerry Springer. We had gripping television that didn't base episodes on determining whether 'Jimmy Jones ' was the father or not because no one then, and no one now gives a shit. They tackled the big issues and helped kids on school holidays wake up in the afternoon. Ricki had some funky dance moves and believed in inspiring the youth of the day, Donahue had some sweet glasses that hipsters of today envy and believed in the power of the audience and Sally believed in being the most annoying host on TV.

But we all know there was one woman who took day time television and talk shows to a new level. Her name was Oprah Winfrey and she had an empire that believed in YOU. Oprah started to shift the mood and value of day time television to programming that would usually have to be purchased in a box set of videos for 3 easy payments of $19.99. Through the power of celebrity and story telling we started to learn about Oprah, we started to learn about others and most importantly we started to learn about ourselves. She empowered us to celebrate who we were and who we could be. We bought in to the power of oneself and learnt to 'love our selves before we could love others'. This themed programming went on for years reaching across multiple generations and created a new sense of community. We kept watching and kept believing because we felt good and 'me time' was finally socially acceptable. Then, holidays were over. We went back to school, moved on with our lives, and she eventually stopped being on our TV's.

We may have stopped watching but we never stopped believing. We took what TV preached and ran away with it. From baby boomers to generations X and Y we caught the fad of putting oneself first and united to become Generation 'O'. Across the globe selfishness infectiously became the new cool and we rejoiced in doing whatever made us happy. Oprah sneezed, we caught a fad and then we spread a disease. We now see a disillusioned generation who willingly bought in to self preservation with never allowing themselves the opportunity of knowing how to value it. Happiness was placed on top of the pedestal with passion for what we saw in the mirror being the only direction to achieve first place.

I'm not saying self respect isn't important but our society is infected with a flawed sense of community that will ultimately destroy us. 'Me first' culture is crippling our knowledge of our neighbours and closing the door to societal progression. To understand passion we need to understand compassion and to do this we need to address how we got here and what's encouraging these values to infect others. Only doing what makes you happy will not make you happy. We need to experience disenchantment in all aspects of life to understand humility and humanity. The medicine is easily administered and readily available. Do what fulfils you, say 'hi' to your neighbour, don't look in the mirror so much and realise the value of second place. This may not make you happy right now nor will it be all healthy days along the way but it will ultimately lead to a greater you and potentially a greater society... free of Generation O.  

Chimneys aren't that important.

It's valentines day soon. Don't worry this isn't a sob story or a love conquers all story. It's just a story about a house and a young kid (me) who was lucky enough to discover the beauty of rebuilding at a young age.

It's started when I was 5. She meant everything and I never got over her.

We sat side by side on the floor, we sat next to each other at the table and we sat by each other in the playground. We drew, ran, laughed and complimented each other on our pure blonde hair. It was going really well, we didn't expect too much of each other and understood that we both needed our space. Like now, I was a drifter that never really stood still for too long and she was pretty popular with a subsequent busy play date schedule. So it worked. We both liked the colour blue which was a big plus for me- could have been a deal breaker. Sure, the relationship had its ups and downs. There was a period there where she had lost one of her front teeth and I wasn't physically attracted to her anymore but we worked through it.

The biggest dark patch was in the colour blue. It was a drawing project and whilst drawing my architecturally perfect house I had an important lesson in how girls were different to boys. One line at a time the house came together. My walls, door, windows, roof and chimney were all in place. I was pretty happy with the way things were looking, I'd spent a long time ensuring all the structural elements were correct and was feeling like this house was an extension of myself. As I sat staring off into space visualising how I would represent the brick work her arm creeped into my line of vision and before I knew it my masterpiece was ruined. How could she? I mean, this was the house we were going to turn 6 in and she tore it down. Three small lines reshaped the way I viewed the house, her and myself. Where my chimney once stood (parallel lines running in line with the edge of the house) was a block that no engineer would ever sign off on. It was not structurally sound which meant our relationship wasn't either. Deal breaker.

A short time later her parents had moved the family away and I never saw her again. I can't remember if we made up or not, its still too hard to think about. Its been about 25 years of wondering what could have been and if she ever learnt how to schematically interpret a chimney correctly.

It took a long time coming to grips with the loss of my house. The first cut certainly was the deepest. Accepting that loss was the foundation to rebuilding. Constructing oneself one brick at a time came with many decisions that took courage to make and consistently called to visualise the end product. It started with the walls, accepting that things had changed gave the framework to start building around. Then came the windows, it would have been easy to not let anyone see inside but its important to have some vitamin D and allow others the opportunity to see who I was. The roof provided protection and how I shaped it dictated how guarded I would be. I tried leaving the door open, I know its a little dangerous but at least I got to meet some strangers. And the chimney? I just left it unstable, its important to have a bit of character.

The brief history of ASS

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.

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.

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!

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.

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?

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.

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.

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!"

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.

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.

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.

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.

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. 

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.