What is that scent? Nostalgia?

I saw Superbad yesterday when I made the first of what will probably be less than I should catch ups before I flee the country. Good old Sonam he has shit going on, if I collected people it would be based on their laughs and propensity to laugh and for that Sonam is awesome.
I used to train Sonam on how to be a man on a date and shit so he could capatilise on all the chemistry he had going on. Seriously though someone should seriously jump Sonam he's awesome.
Anyhoo Superbad is a film well worth seeing unless you trust herald sun reviewers and in that case what the fuck are you doing on this blog? learning grammer. fucktard.
It was a long almost absurdist take on the whole 'getting laid before college' motif. And it probably ended up being a story about how alcohol wasn't necessary for having a good time. But for me my experience on the whole 'getting laid before college' was non existent, not just because it didn't happen but also it seemed the pressure to get laid and make it public knowledge seemed insignificant compared to that that was placed on upon losing the mantle of 'frigid' an odd mantle but it seems there was far more social pressure on making out with a lady than the whole getting laid.
Grade 6 was for the early adopters and most joined the party in year 7, which is a whole year thats the duration of 26 long term relationships in year 7. Year 8 was slow but respectable for late blossomers and then the rest of us were camped out on the frigid island left hanging without high fives for anyone.
We were just left there, the kids making out were only matched in contempt for us by our contempt for eachother preventing us from hooking up and joining the love boat for its high school cruise.
So prominent was this death sentance hanging over my head when I landed my first official girlfriend Kim I choked after 8 hours of officialdom and ended it clawing my expectations out of my throaght and remaining frigid.
Fortunately for no rational reason being on race around the corner made me cool and I soon found myself dating Sarah back in my hometown. I was very happy with this as Sarah had sufficient personality to not just be my girlfriend but also be one of my friends. However I just could adjust my home habitat to couple life, the desk moving involved the 'hanging out' was a huge adjustment for me and being frigid prevented me from being cool about it.
So after 3 days my second relationship fell through. I was in dire straits, looking at a life sentance of never kissing a girl.
I plunged into the depths of teenage angst, I was reconciled to just being a psychological bully for the rest of my life and using the remarkably effective treatment of making myself feel better by picking on people smaller than me in physical and/or psychological size.
Then a few months which seemed like an eternity Sarah turned around one day and declared rather publicly that she still really liked me. And me, I played hard to get, demanding that their would be no flip flopping this time and an explanation for giving up on me the last time before I was reassured enough to 'give her a second chance' which you know I don't understand to this day because I was such a loser and I knew it and how I pulled off the high ground I wish I could replicate again.
And I finally managed to play it cool, we just sort of hung out for a week and then one day after wandering around Balifornia and I was dropping her off at a bus stop when she jumped me and that was that.
When my cherry got popped I sort of thought the transformation was so suttle I really should have dicked around in highschool. But the first kiss was such a burden off my mind, such an outreaching (I was probably something like Sarah's 18th kiss) and the new burden of my relatively stronger teen emotional dependancy on Sarah was not a whole lost of fun.
But that was probably the worst social pressure to do anything I've ever experienced, worse than smoking, drinking or any of the stuff they warn you about, worse than getting laid and other stuff they make movies about.
So kids out there, if you want the early advantage play around with your cousin.

Dime & Dress Codes

Today on my way back from the dentists (attempt 2 joy) I stopped in at borders to see that Slam magazine had updated again as had Dime magazine - the basketballer's lifestyle magazine. Basketballer lifestyle seems to differ from AFL players lifestyle and soccer players lifestyle (based on topgears cool rules for cars) in that within their own culture they seem to be regarded as tasteful.
Painful catchphrases like bling and shit aside a basketballer seems to be able to dress themselves and still be cool, have hot partners that are respected and so fourth in contrast to AFL players whose brownlow event is the fashion node of the calander year.
But what NBA and AFL have in common is commisioners who both have a shared stupidity in the 'professionalism' of dress codes. So as I was picking up Dime magazine and leafing through it today I was surprised to read the comment by a ball player 'I've always demanded respect... I was wearing suits to games before the dress code.'
I think this is one of the worst comments ever. The only one that's worse is possibly Charles Oakley's take on the dress codes:
'Allen Iverson has been playing for ten years and he's still wearing a t-shirt to games...grow up already' liberal paraphrasing aside this is just a stupid arguement.
I believe the players are paid to play basketball, and so long as they play fucking basketball they are professional. Anything else is just fluff.
Jordan wore suits to games because he wanted to cultivate an image, he was leveraging off a perception that people wore suits to work and as such used the suit as a symbol to people that he played basketball like he was going to work.
And maybe it worked, but that is an individuals choice. Allen Iverson has an equal right to express that he is a gangsta, playing for his homies, or that he is a warrior or for whatever reason.
Just as any other player should have the right to feel comfortable turning up in a tracksuit.
For the record I think dress codes are bullshit in the office. Any justification is weak. Particularly since Gen Y seems to have figured out that for the investment of time required in a full time job, it should, nay must be a fun fucking job to take it in the first place, otherwise it aint worth the investment of time in our brief brief lives.
And I have to say, I seem to get promoted with greater regularity than my dressier counterparts, just like I can easily recall Allen Iverson's name but can't recall the guy in the Dime Article.
People often cop out and say to me (I kid you not) 'Oh but the rules don't apply to you tohm because you're clever, other people have to play the game' but in essence I dress down because I am playing the game, other people do play the game but they play the losing hand.
There are some concessions, like your choice in dress should acknowledge the power relationship, a salesman can't deny the power a customer has. And that's about it, if you can live with a conservative culture, and more importantly have fun in one then stick with it loser but I just wouldn't tolerate that, I've got better fucking things to spend not just time on, but contribute the value I have to.
Coming back to wearing a suit = demanding respect. Maybe it does but in marketing speak we call that 'Look at me' which is a market segmentation models, generally 'Visable Achievers' are high achievers with high sense of self esteem, thus don't need recognisable brands or imagery to validate their achievement, a hard category for marketers to reach. 'Look at me's' can be successful but have low self esteem thus seek approval from almost everyone through easily recognisable brands and imagery, they consume fast cars, nice suits and 'bling' in a conspicuous and pitiful way.
And that is who you are essentially when you 'demand' respect by wearing a suit. Or in Eddie Macguire's case hand out 'respect' in the form of Versace/Armani/Cocktard suits to players. I mean you could look at the accursed Collingwood in an exercise in mixed message marketing, about the only blue collared sponser is McDonalds and they still equate to big money in the mind. Then there's the luxary brands Lexus and Emirates Airlines (the UAE oil money always speaks of excess) and semantically you are left with nothing but hypocrisy. Eddie has taken the 'Love them or you hate them' mentality and amplified it. As opposed to North Melbourne's 'Shinboner' strategy which is to take a quality of determination that almost any old club has and give it a name and own it. Now everybody respects the roos and they perform arguably better than collingwood with all its lavish facilities and advantages.

I own cufflinks, I even wear them, but the time they take to put in and take out, their natural lack of balance and need for specific shirts means I almost never wear them. They don't speak of efficiency to me, and efficiency is professional. I kind of look at any athlete turning up in evening wear to go to a match and wonder what merit spending 40 minutes dressing to the nines and then going and spending 20 minutes changing at a venue into comfortable breathable playing gear could possibly have. Keeping in mind the added stress of folding and hanging all the good threads as you change. I wonder what psychological edge it gives a guy like AI to just turn up in something comfortable.

44 years on

Congratulations to any loser Geelong supporters. Today, you are winners well done on the patience front. I feel your joy and consolation.

I like Gil

If there is a blog I am a fan of it is that of Agent 0, Gilbert Arena. As a person hes as hard to pin down as he is a player. He is kind of the (young) Koutafides of Basketball, to big for small pointgaurds to outpower, too quick for large point guards to defend against. He also makes respectable assist figures whilst being one of last years top five scorers. Which is boring for you reader to hear.
But I think what I like most about Gil is that he is insane, just completely insane. His blog is an exercise in reading insanity carrying off a good impression of reasoned arguement.
I mean usually when I want bad advice about women I go straight to harvard who I worry is actually giving good advice from a malaysian perspective. But Gil is on a whole other level of advice. His latest blog post talks at length about his shoes but down the bottom has his recap of an arguement he had with his girlfriend about keeping a car clean that resulted him being kicked out of the car and having to walk to the gym, in his gym gear without a wallet with which to make use of a bus or taxi.
How does Gil get out of this one? apologising and coming to some sort of compromise? speaking loudly through actions and cleaning the car? No he went on strike and didn't answer any of her calls, didn't answer her pager and slept on a couch in the gym for a whole week.
If I ever tried shit like that I'm sure I would find myself single by the end of the week, and feel incredibly guilty about taking such a juvenile strategy for such a minor arguement and fuck life is short, why would I want to spend a whole week of it on a couch no matter how comfortable.
And I guess thats why I love Gil and his blog, the man who took a shower in uniform midmatch one time. That licks all the donuts that have been brought for the team as a hilarious prank. And when sighted by a ball boy dragging his foot like he was injured up a staircase before a match and asked if he was okay responded 'yeah, its ritual'
Check out his blog sometime.

A Shot of Confidence

Already I am worried about the possibly misleading nature of my post, as most of my friends have that one of the three Australian dependencies: Alcohol, Cars and Home Ownership.
No I didn't have a couple of shots and pick up some skank, I instead did the more boring activity of running a training day over the weekend. I fucked up the timing, it generated discussion but not active participation, and I had to run from screen to clicker and lost all animations moving from pc to mac so I fucked up a lot of things but overall I saw real value in the training session.
If I had my time again I would have shuffled the order and tried to achieve less in one sitting but the thought, the revelation I had was 'I can do this' I can become a consultant, with the little knowledge I have accumulated I can still contribute it in the right places to a lot of organisations out there.
I can be a consultant, I have legitimate product to sell, I can do it. That be my shot of confidence and my future took shape, not all of it, but the financial independance part started to take shape.
It'll be work, but I can do it. Profound.

Another One Bites the Dust

I like the imagery of a cowboy hitting the dust, with his teeth after being gunned down in a quickdraw. His teeth breaking out whilst he can no longer feel them. I find it spectacular, dramatic and comical.
Well what can I say, I'm back on the meat market and this time around its an odd sensation. Odd because its no real setback to most of the work I did last time. No brooding or devestation, no days off, no crying in a field. I'm yet to cry and I kind of feel guilty because if ever there was a girl worth crying over its Misaki.
But I guess that its one of those clean breaks that comes after the pressure of a long distance relationship has finally built up to breaking point.
Yeah I love her, and I keep thinking of joyous snippets and mannerisms of memories of our summer of love, her hiccup laugh and perhaps most dangerously how her manner of speaking is one of the best and easiest ones to impersonate for the amusement of myself and my friends. I think I do it to her as well without even noticing it.
But I will say two things that are totally ups for Long-distance relationships for anyone thinking of giving up now, now that someone as magnificent as me has failed.

1. Long distance relationships can help you stay out of the trap of devaluing all your other many relationships. I think a lot of stupid young couples attempt to experience true love by neglecting every other relationship they have. And this isn't the third wheel spurned WOM hating mate speak, but just that a good relationship should need you to free up good feelings towards anyone else, otherwise you haven't gained anything, and you probably don't bring anything much.

2. Having your own space means you can grow as an individual and if things turn sour be required to undergo very little behavioural change. I'm slightly unnerved by how well I'm taking this, which isn't to say I'm imune to feeling, don't get me wrong I want my ownership of my former pretty cake, I feel pretty sad about it just not overwhelmed or under attack or insecure.

The hardest thing for me right now is putting together the pieces of what this actually means. ie. not being misaki's boyfriend friday, not being misaki's boyfriend friday... not being misaki's boyfriend the day I die. Adding up all the pieces in between is sort of the reality that hits my brain with varying degrees of substantialness, but you know whatever, fuck it, one day at a time.

Villany through non-Adulation

I will remember forever the first day I met Vicky, my art teacher and mentor because she drew a line in the sand. She had over the holiday period in which my school had had to replace our art teacher, taken away all the artwork displayed and painted the walls blue.
She said to us in tones considered harsh for what was really a bludge subject 'I have taken down the art because it was not good enough, art to be displayed will be of a quality to inspire you...' or something to that effect, it was strong and it was profound. It was very athleticly competitive really.
But art is a funny thing, it has these high standards set by the renaissance masters, the surrealists, the impressionists etc. Like music it has had that many movements that now its just in a sort of open space for exploration. Music tends more to a bipolar split between purist classical people that cant jump on board any other movement (although classical has plenty of movements within its long life span) and the baby boomer anchor in the heady days of the 60's and late 70's.
But art in the visual art and traditional medium sense, doesn't tend to have problems with popularist and it is generally recognised that an artist has to be pretty fucken special and dedicated to reach the pinnacle standard of actually being able to subsist on an art derived income.
I'm totally comfortable with the art world and all its ridiculous and oft pretentious movements.
I'm not comfortable with TV though, because of a bizarre coalition of religious devotees to a show called 'Summer Heights High' religious devotees being, just about every single last person in the world I talk to these days.
And I don't know how to explain how frustrating my persecution is. But maybe to highlight, I was talking on msn with a friend today, who remarked that while they were out of the country they were missing Summer Heights High. Not an odd remark, especially when I seem to be constantly asked whether I watched it by coworkers, friends and foreign delagates alike.
What made it odd was the person was lamenting missing it without having ever seen the Show or its predecessor 'We Can Be Heroes'.
And within 20 seconds I found myself trying furiously to intelligently debate why it wasn't that great. Trying to explain to someone who had never seen the show, or any work by the maker why I didn't like it.
I call this phenomena - 'Villany Through Non-Adulation' that is to say my position on this particular show is this:

Chris Lilley is a good character actor, and some of his performances are on the money.

That's not overly critical, infact not even critical, it isn't damning of the show, nor I feel would fans of the show call me a 'contrarian'. But I seem to have my reason attacked because my take on the show is not:

Chris Lilley is a genius, Summer Heights High is a must see, it is the work of genius the likes of which have never been seen before.

Now in my view, none of those statements are true. Don't get me wrong, Summer Heights High is a hit. Dead centre, on point, it resonates with the national audiance and as good business ROI and all that shit is by all means a worthwhile activity for the ABC.
But so is Kath & Kim, The Nanny, Home Improvement, Full House, My Big Fat Greek Wedding, The Da Vinci Code, King of Queens, Everybody Loves Raymond etc.
All not the work of genius. Great business, ratings winners all, but just not genius. Some may have been smart but for the time being I seem to be under seige for not including it on this list:

Arrested Development, Garth Marenghi's Dark Place, The Office, Extras, Seinfield, Curb Your Enthusiasm, Deadwood, Rome, The Wire, John Safran vs God and Southpark.

Which is to say a list of shows that are the work of genius, because they are surprising, enthralling, captaviting and emotive. Some of the best writing, acting and production that has been seen ever. All of them are consistent and in almost all cases offer something that has never been seen before.
And having myself a list like this, of truly great shows is a good thing. But my refusal to put a show that seems to have captured popular opinion is my right that seems to land me in trouble.
Because its easy to explain why it doesn't deserve to be on there. But the act of explaining why a show doesn't deserve to be on there ends up creating a 'negative screening process' which in turn sets up a list of redundant purpose titled 'works of not genius' so instead of having a list that is a positive thing, for when I see a show so good I go 'wow I want to create something like that someday' I can file it away I have to explain in a negative frame of mind, why a show that should just be left floating on a tv schedule without much further analysis is not on there.
Like there is something wrong with me.
Ironically a show which captures the sentiment I'm getting at is Extras. Ironically Ricky Gervais as described by Stephen Fry has captured the hollowness of faim in a way that isn't just for industry insiders but is as relavant today to comedy as the british class system was in 60s-thru-80s.
The BAFTA awards sum it up beautifully with Andy Millman's catch phrase comedy being described as 'tacky shit' by the very people he seeks validation from. The difference between Chris Lilley and Andy Millman's character judging by the AFI awards reaction (which I can't find on youtube anywhere) is that Chris thinks he is some kind of Genius, where Andy Millman is not proud of his work.

And I'm sick of getting treated like some kind of villain, or jealous child, simply because I don't rate a show as high as people want me to. Character acting is a skill, Chris Lilley may well be one of the best at it, but instead of appealing to surprise, it appeals to the familiar and that is why 20 minutes of it is enough for me. 6 episodes each an hour long tries my patience. And thats just who I am, I want to be surprised.
Little Britain was a similar show but it did sometimes have some surprising exchanges. But the formula was definitely tired by the second series.
Contrast those shows to the multi-AFI award winning John Safran vs God, a show that at the time looked at diverse subject matter, had a new way to structuring interest pieces and perhaps the most brilliant part itself Safran's own ballsey approach to his relationship with his own audiance, that is as my former housemate Damo would describe it: 'he never lets his audiance get too comfortable'
That is new and surprising to me, I like Safrans form of Gonzo journalism, and his embracing of an intellectual and immature debating style, for the love of debate.
And that's a positive and wonderful thing he gives me as a viewer.

Athiests probably know this kind of villany well, and it is infuriating, because for the most part Atheists lacking an instututionalised religion have never harmed anyone, live a self determined lifestyle and have no higher power than moral behaviour.
Comparing those three simple things to even the most liberal practitioner of faith and they fall far short, but because religion and spirituality is popular, someone doing something positive, by setting standards, not prejudging, and taking responsibility for their own destiny and relations to fellow human beings, is seen as close-minded and arrogant.
But atheists have for the most part been more open minded about religion and spirituality than most, as they have probably at some point examined the need for religion and spirituality in the first place, where most others have simply made a closed minded assumption to do as their parents do.
But I find myself constantly having to explain myself and why I've taken a reasonable and personal decision, to others and somehow end up looking like the attacker.
So fuck you, fuck you all, you small minded fucks, go really look at yourselves, I'm a creative, loving and positive person also capable of critical thinking and having standards for entertainment and I'm sick of you demanding me to validate your own lack of taste, no matter how obscure mine might be to obtain.

Pirates vs. Ninjas

Recentlyish, Jane invited me via facebook to be a pirate in the Pirate vs Ninjas debate. I joined, fearing retribution but was dissapointed to see that the function did not allow me to backstab Jane and switch sides to Ninja.
This prompted me to think it is about time for me to weigh in to the debate via my highly influential blog.
I have to say, who is anyone kidding? what fucking chance in the world do Pirates have. I'll tell you, just one: sail out to the middle of the pacific ocean. In any real confrontation Pirates wouldn't stand a chance against one ninja.
I mean Japan was never known for having a particularly formidable navy, but ninja's were employed to sneak aboard and set fire to the powder house all the time.
You are talking about covert sabatours trained in the martial arts, stealth, firearms and social engineering from birth for mercenary employment vs. sailors (no formal qualification required) often pressganged deciding to mutiny and then sailing around raiding things or capturing trading ships until they were busted up by the navy or died of malnutrition.
Even the most successful buckaneers like Henry Morgan that were more admirals in a navy than pirate in the spirit of the word wouldn't have stood a chance against the formidability of ninjas.
The upbringing is such that I just can't see pirates ever having a definable set of skills that could overcome a Ninjas in any meaningful way.
I cant gauruntee pirates would be on the whole better swimmers, nor even better knot tiers. Infact when it comes to skills that nobody would usually deem worthy of attempting to perfect, the japanese have it down. Not ninja's but the japanese in general to this day eg. folding, making tea, getting dressed, cleaning windows... everydamn thing, I'd honestly be surprised if Japanese kids weren't also very good at tying knots.
The ratio is as near as I can guestimate, 1 ninja = 80 pirates.
I guess you could argue that Pirates are still around today, still using the same flagrant unskilled approach to their profession as always, yet where are ninja's now. Well, precisely, where are ninja's now. They could be all aound us, there could be one watching you right now, so just think carefully about which way you vote.

I lost the game...

How's this for zen, you are now playing the game and will continue to play it for the rest of your life by virtue of reading this.
The rules are simple, you are playing the game all the time. Whenever you think of the game, about the game or become aware you are playing the game, you have to say 'I lost the game' and let everyone else know you lost the game. That's the only rule. Once you lose a game you start playing the next game, which has the same rule.

Enjoy.

Happy Birthday Tiger Teeth

It seems to me that barely a blink of an eye has gone by since I last posted about my magical unicorn bride Yoko from japan. Yet this year I was more organised with an automated alarm reminding me to send a birthday card. What an odd irregular yet regular as clockwork habit of mine.
Though Yoko is but a dusty memory of mine and it would be bizarre to hear from her again her birthday is much more joyous for me than my own. Low key what an introvert would like, I think it will be my new time period of achievement.
Anyway happy birthday my magical unicorn.

Father's day special: The Life Giving Sword

In Inu Yasha a long running manga series that I have long since given up on following the seemingly endless plotlines of Japanese Manga of which Inu Yasha excels there is the main character Inu Yasha a half-dog half-man demon and his brother called something else. In a cruel twist of fate Inu the protagonist has been given the perfect killing blade of destruction and his evil brother a sword that can only be used to heal, not kill.

And thus thusserson came up with a literal interpretation of Yagyu Munenori's philosophy of the 'Life-Giving Sword' a work in the tradition of Zen Swordsmanship of lesser fame than the book of five rings, lesser by virtue of Yagyu being more of a legitimately accomplished sword-saint and instructor than Musashi who was more romantically accomplished at sword.
The philosophy of the Life-Giving-Sword is that you use a Death-dealing-sword or destructive element to destroy something evil and thus achieve a good outcome. So to save 10,000 you cut down 1 person etc. Utilitaranism translated into a warrior code and possibly the product of rationalisation.
Anyway I feel I am begenning to suspect that I understand what old Yagyu was getting at. Recently a destructive and powerful element entered my workplace. One that was starting to tear the whole department apart.
If there was anything I learned from my own father though, is that if you leave a small problem and hope for the better it generally just gets bigger and everybody loses.
I watched my dad for years get out manouvered by a useless turd that had a penchant for networking, a reality of the workplace but not a good one. And to be fair my father wasn't destroyed he is for the most part seemingly indestructable, but the damage to things he valued including his workplace started to escalate out of his control and beyond even the point where he walked. His personal investment in what he had built got destroyed because he had believe the problem transparent to all.
And such problems are cancerous, we all in some way have a duty to those we care about and ourselves to act on a problem and 'strike at evil' in order to preserve good.
As a scalpal is a tool that cuts in order to save lives, so is every tool potentially a weapon of destruction or a life saving necessity.
A lot of my identity and values have been imparted to me by dad, I've also had pleny of space to develope my own unique persona but this gift of experience from my father has helped me come to terms with my own dual nature.
I used to style myself a player in high school, I got quite a malicious pleasure from triumphing politically and psychologically over other people. At the time it was my way of feeling in control over myself and what happened to me as a result of Dad's political situation at work.
Fortunately when I arrived t Honda, networking and psychological manipulations weren't really necessary at all, the management structure was entrenched and authoritive and largely benign.
I've discovered since the joy of being a team player and the ease of living in a win-win mentallity. And this is where I like to hang out and relax in my thinking.
But I am also at peace with the destructive nature of my personality being there in the background, it is a tool of use that I'd rather not use but is there, a death-dealing sword consisting of the tactics and insights of which my brain naturally gravitates that I have turned into something constructive.
So compelled by the problem in our midst and drawing from dads experience, I cut at the evil with as much skill and accuracy as my ability allows, and I'm still learning, I have only really begun to 'pick up the sword' without bloodlust.
But this is something I could not have done without significant contribution from the wisdom and experience of my father.

Economics of Attention

I'll shortly be performing my very first training day. Who would have thought after all this time and blogging people would actually want to listen to me, moreover learn to be a little more like tohm. I'm hoping to build up some consulting work so this will be a good test run. Anyway one of the respondents sent me this which I think encapsulates well the whole positioning line as well:

From http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Attention_economy:

Herbert Simon was perhaps the first person to
articulate the concept of attention economics when he
wrote:

"...in an information-rich world, the wealth of
information means a dearth of something else: a
scarcity of whatever it is that information
consumes. What information consumes is rather
obvious: it consumes the attention of its
recipients. Hence a wealth of information creates a
poverty of attention and a need to allocate that
attention efficiently among the overabundance of
information sources that might consume it" (Simon
1971, p. 40-41).

He noted that many designers of information systems
incorrectly represented their design problem as
information scarcity rather than attention scarcity,
and as a result they built systems that excelled at
providing more and more information to people, when
what was really needed were systems that excelled at
filtering out unimportant or irrelevant information
(Simon 1996, p. 143-144).

--- Gav.

One Trick Pony

Tomorrows a big day for me, I'm going to the Visa Party to celebrate Zaman among others securing a permanant visa for Australia.
My contribution to the merry making will be my chocolate birds nest. Its my one desert trick. I'm a one trick pony I admit it.

Autopsy of My Relationship

I've been reading Phil Jackson's 'Sacred Hoops' about the spirituality of basketball, and he talks alot about the transcendant nature of life. Before this I had read a book written by a psychologist that provided council, one I had first picked up looking for validation in dumpsville and approved of without reading because it had a chapter titled 'we are all vulnerable to the perfect stranger myth'

Maybe it was validation I was seeking, or vindication, or most likely hope. But being dumped was a defining moment in my life. A moment passed, and survived but it was a period of intense examination and arguably the best process for me I could possibly have undergone.
I've been meaning since its inception to post up what happened with it but always put it off. Reading Phil Jackson's telling of his practice of coaching though was the first thing to give me enough confidence to actually write about my experience.
And it was my experience, just as it was my relationship. just as no two people can ever share the same perspective, claire and I though both participating in the relationship, and the breakup process no doubt had two distinct seperate experiences of it.

prelude to the breakup:

We had dated for almost three years, shortly after our second anniversary I had started full time work and Claire had started honours. Something was wrong I just wasn't conscious enough to pick it up. And what I mean is something was wrong with me.
I went to work every day of the week, I was bubbly, energetic, recieving great feedback, I felt valued and got along well with everyone in my department.
I came home and watched TV, I abused in a jocular, hollow, posturing way my housemates damo and liam which thankfully they seemed to find amusing and not tire of until Claire inevitably called me from her flat and asked me where I was and when I was coming over.
I'd show up as late as possible and read in bed, we had sex as young couples are want to do and then sleep. At 6am her alarm went off and I'd walk home across the park in the cold and go to work.
On weekends I stayed over but stayed until about 8.30am and then go home to play Xbox all weekend and otherwise bum around.
I spent close to no time doing anything but work, hanging around with Claire or my housemates. I saw none of my close friends, and my bright fresh enthusiasm at work turned into adolescent aggression at home.
And I was happily complacent with this life.

getting dumped:

As part of her honours thesis, Claire had to go to Vanuatu for two or three weeks to conduct research. She seemed to fall apart overseas and for most of the trip. I knew she'd pull together and be fine, and frankly found her dependance and seperation anxiety pitiful. I felt in complete control, and the space made me think about our relationship and where it was going.
I felt I owed it to Claire to actually show some commitment. I concluded that when Claire returned, dependant though she was, I could drop the distance I built between us and contemplate some kind of future for us.
Three days before she came back her mood switched around, like she had found Jesus. I felt good about it because once again my wisdom that she would enjoy herself by abandoning her useless anxiety, and relaxing her dependancy on me to just be confident in the relationship would allow her to have a good time.
On the second night of her return she dumped me.
Now in the early stages I sought relief to my situation by trying to obtain 'closure' a reason that would satisfy me. My councilour said to me though that he could remember relationships from 20 years ago that still caused some pain. Closure is an illusion, a myth swallowed by a mind desperate for relief.
After two years I can say that as unpleasant as getting dumped was, there are just some things that are sticking points forever. I am at complete eases, and infact satisfied that Claire and I were not good together, and that I would not consciously pursue another relationship with her.
But some things stick and one was they way we 'broke up' Claire sat me down and told me we she didn't love me anymore. I said and still regret saying 'we should break up then' this is just one of those invaluable conversations I am sure I will easily recall when necessary.
I felt trapped by what I said, like I had been tricked into consenting to some kind of mutual breakup. It has been important to me ever since to correct her into saying 'she dumped me'
I went straight into I guess what one would call shock, I didn't even contemplate what I had just lost, nor have any grasp of the reality of what hd just happened.
She was crying and similar to what seemed to have characterised the relationship for me, she seemed to be uncomprehending of her own dependance, whilst I felt in control.
Yet I was walking away from her apartment. Home not comprehending.
The first wonderful door of my life got opened that night and I did not realise it, but now knowing it would not trade for the whole world. I called my mother almost instantly and let her know that we had broken up.
Then I went to bed, Janice called again and I said I'd take the day off tomorrow and eventually persuaded her to let me sleep.
I later learned that my sister, on hearing I'd been dumped, did not sleep that night but lay up worried about me, knowing how upset I would be. My sister and I have never really talked, never really been a team, never really as far as I could tell have had anything in common, then this single act of sympathy finally illuminated me to how alike we really are. A picture that keeps unfoulding to this day.
I was upset but I felt intellectually I comprehended the whole thing quite well.
I cried for a while and fell asleep.

at battle with myself:

Waking up was the worst thing, waking up alone. I was cut off from sex and left contemplating that I was without a companion. I tried to keep active and positive. After two days of not being relieved from this waking abandonment though, my body without conscious consent fell apart on me.
I was hit with wave after wave of crippling emotional breakdowns, the unimaginably exhausting and cruel decisions my body made to wake me up at 2am, 3am etc and leave me trying to contemplate the ruin of a relationship I had taken for granted and thought to have controlled.
Shaving was close to impossible, I found roughly one night a week were I could set aside an hour to shave. I stopped cooking, brushing my teeth, I just rewore clothes rather than washing them. All my time and energy was channelled into grief.
I had to write constantly, trying to figure things out.
As I wrote, usually in a little notebook at work whilst doing the bare minimum I recorded things like how sick I felt at various times of the day.
For I relationship I hadn't valued since I couldn't remember, I was left in this totally alien predicament, of having no control, no self esteem and nothing to fight the crippling physiological response to the heartbreak.

the stages of grief:

The stages of grief are tippically - shock, anger, denial, acceptance, sadness, growth. Not necessarily happening in that order nor happening at all, sadness being the most consistent phase. For me still, the reasons for the breakup where something I pursued only seeking closure. I went into denial, but the denial was only so far as a belief that I was somehow still in control. There were ideas as large as elephants I was trying to tiptoe around in my head.
The denial that I somehow controlled 'the game' as I came to comprehend it manifested in odd ways, superstitious beliefs about which underwear to wear, and a perception of a cycle - that is that tuesdays were bad days, I dreaded (I got dumped on a tuesday, I got re-rejected on a tuesday, I found out about the other guy on a tuesday...etc) and that thursdays were good days, triumphant days (we had a productive conversation on a thursday, we went out on a thursday, I recieved an email on a thursday...etc) I got meaningless associations with other things too, like after a couple of weeks, after finding out her new boyfriend was coming from Vanuatu to stay, I became terrified of her, and her park and even a lingerie store in the city whose brand she liked made me want to throw up.
I was afraid and in denial and angry, and most of it happened subconsciously.
I was overwhelmed by these things that intellectually I knew if they just stopped I could get around. But the sadness just seemed to get worse, I stuck signs up around my room to remind me why I should live each day. If she set a date for an appointment where we could see eachother, my life was consumed with trying to find things to distract me from having to live the time inbetween.
I spent most of the time, plotting, writing rules for myself in my book. Plotting my overall strategy.
I could usually stick with it for one encounter, but then my patience would collapse and I'd try and orchestrate a meeting and try and force the schedule along.

My mind overcomes:

Even before counselling, my mind did a lot of groundwork, namely it kept me together through an intense distrust of myself. Most of what made it so much was subconscious. It asked me tough questions 'does she really meet your standard anymore?' if I can elaborate on the importance of this little question, it was profound in that. Claire had left me because a stranger had filled her with a vision of the bright prospect of life with him. By comparison our relationship was a stale dead end. This was my take on it.
The thing that hurt me though, was that I expected better of her. And this is a judgement upon my self now. It was all about my pride and control, that she should be intellectual enough to see through promises of castles in the sky and realise her best prospect was with me. This was irrefutable if you took the inflated view of me, that I had in myself.
I tried to argue my way out of her decision with reason. Possibly some of my craftiest and best built cases, the fruits of my intellectual development, up till now, all I had more or less ever really relied on and why I lacked any real depth as a person.
And for a reasoned tactic in a war of emotions, they did have pretty cutting effects and insights as far as I could see, they really did plant the doubts and questions in her head that I had hoped for. But to my devestation, her resolve always seemed to harden.
I just thought she had gone crazy, I thought the case so obviously ran in my favour I sat around stressed out at why reality didn't seem to comply with my world view.
My ego was what I had at stake, I looked for vindication and that was it. I just wanted desperately to feel in control.
I knew I wasn't going to get it, and I didn't trust myself as the best agent for myself. I talked it over with Damo at length, how I felt like there was nobody advocating for me, influencing her decision.
I felt like the world had gone mad, that people were encouraging her to make such drastic changes to her life.
To me, by inviting some new guy into her home for three weeks it was like she was just trying to sabotage every chance of us getting back together.
My control was being undermined at every corner, and her behaviour I interpreted as trying to force my hand into shunning her and 'getting over it'.
I implored her to get councilling, because I felt of all the people in her support network, I was the most objective, something I knew was patently false.
Whilst I sat around waiting for a counsellor to diagnose her as 'crazy to dump him'
I felt tremendous relief, that finally she was talking to someone objective, not a parant saying useless things like 'whatever your decision we'll support you' nor friends I envisioned stabbing me in the back saying 'your so brave, your better off without him' support full of meaning to someone, issued from the mouth of people to whom the relationship means very little.

I meet Joe:

the grief process placed me in a situation where my mind was being throttled by my matter, the withdawel of all the chemicals that I felt whilst in a relationship, the subconscious cues I no longer recieved from Claire.
I was impressed with how strong my mind was, it was such an aggressive authority that asserted itself every day. Amongst all the irrational emotional things I did during the breakup, it came to the fore and took control when I needed it, even in the crippled state it was in.
The breakup was really the perfect test for defining myself. For seeing if I was as formidable as I wanted to be. It placed everything in jeopardy, my health, my mind, my job, my friendships, my neighbourhood.
My mind took a remarkable amount of punishment. But really I had only lost two things, my control and my esteem - my sense of self worth.
After initial trouble in getting counselling I booked in with a guy called Joe. Joe listened to me rattle of the specific clues that had lead me to conclude that I had been dumped, and that I had no idea how to behave to work my way out of the predicament.
Joe told me I was grieving. And he told me that 'Claire has made a decision that you are not a party of.' He named it, exactly what the breakup was all about to me, the thing that had undermined my whole world, I had lost my feeling of control.
My homework was to write down all the things I njoy doing, what I do for enjoyment.
I then conceded that Joe was a very clever man.
My list of things I enjoy, excluding sex were all things I did without Claire.
The next two sessions with Joe were simply reinforcing the message that I wasn't in control so I shouldn't expend energy on it.
The task was redefined as finding out who I was. Then my sessions ended and Joe was gone. Even though we talked for an hour at a time that was it 'you will still experience grief' and 'Claire has made a decision that you do not control' this became a mantra for me, possibly because it had more or less been Joe's mantra for me.
Then I started out by simply trying to one by one, break my subconscious behaviours and take control of my life back.
It was simple, like buying new underwear, walking past places that made me feel sick, getting new music.

The growth phase:

Before being dumped, I took Claire for granted, I found her clingy and predictable, she was simply there. I felt like the burden of ending the relationship was always going to be my priveledge. I felt in control.
Meanwhile I wittled away my time on nothing, it was unprecious to me and did nothing for anyone.
Within three months of being single again it seemed like I was rapidly catching up on three years of stagnation.
In searching for an outlet for my desire to love, support and build I found the Fitzroy Learning Network, and before I knew it I was facing the prospect of becoming an english teacher to a refugee, a role so esteemed by the student I was terrified of the resonsibility and commitment.
I meet with Zamin almost every tuesday, as a result, tuesdays are never a bad day and I am more terrified of life without Zamin to tutor and talk to than I ever was of losing Claire while dating her. Tutoring Zamin makes me feel deeply human, it is very humbling to have someone like him as a student, and he is a calming innocent source of perspective. I used to take all the frustration of work out on Claire and my housemates and use all the support and love they gave me for work.
I can't count how many times I've left work furious at the shortsitedness, or ineptitude of the latest managerial decision and after an hour with Zamin felt like the world is populated exclusively by cute puppies who play with butterflies under rainbows.
I also got put in touch with Marc Barry, a beautiful man, frustrated with trying to foster a community for international students at RMIT. The first dinner with him was literally one of my first outings from worthlessness. That is to say, my entire esteem had been wrapped up in 'how good I was in relationships' and after 5 years of more or less continuous dating consisted of little else.
Marc's vision and commitment to empowering the non-english speaking students nearly made me weep. His deep felt appreciation for my overwillingness to volunteer for bike rides, running clubs, frisbee and basketball made me laugh with embarassment.
To me it was all about my desperate need to feel worthwhile, to him I was this selfless crusader, persistent in the frustration of the ever fluctuating enthusiasm of ESL students.
After three months I recieved an email from a guy called Daud 'I love this game, I will play, when can we play?' I had agreed to try and keep a basketball group going, picking up a basketball for the first time in 8 years.
Through basketball I have met Masa, Hide, Tosh, Yusuke, Troy, Daud, Rio, Angelo, Vincent and a myriad of others. All of them helped reignite my love of basketball, that now borders on for most of my work colleagues, annoying obsession/delusion that I am a big black man.
From bball, tutering and then being part of the close knit earthsharing team (the result of reading their torturously wordy website over a christmass skeleton staff period) I ended up being a triple volunteer and part time uni student.
I was part of the community and had built my self esteem from scratch.
I learned that the transcendant nature of all things made me appreciate life. Mentally I triumphed, I got crushed into a wreck of a person and bounced back stronger.
Claire and I remain friends, despite one of the most careless and wreckless breakup handling one can come across.
She had her own reasons for ditching me, and truth be told, I don't really give a fuck what they were, it could have been the pursuit of larger blacker penis.

Kirk and I joked about what to do when getting dumped/breaking up how to steal all the best stuff from their apartment on your way out.
Damo said he thought that of the two of us, Claire had lost more in losing me than I had lost in her, I was really touched by the sentiment and I think faggoty though he is its one of those heartfelt things I'll love him forever for, I think personally I certainly walked out of her apartment that night richer in potential than I ever had been before in my life.
But it isn't about winning or losing, one morning I sat on a couch thoroughly exhausted from just grieving, full time for two weeks or so, I had been holding out hoping she would call to say she'd told this guy to fuck off and was ready to spend months apologising and making it up to me.
I sat on the couch repeating 'she's not coming back, she's not coming back...' endlessly, until I ended. It was such a moment of presence, such a calming moment. Liam and I talked and later we went to the movies to see Charlie Chaplin, a great and joyous experience.
That wasn't closure, though, three weeks later on her birthday I was crying at my parents place saying 'she's gone, she's gone' 8 months after that I spent a random night upset while she was in indonesia.
There was no closure, nor will there ever be, it was just this thing that happened to me, it was done and couldn't be undone. My reactions weren't defined by the experience. It was just how I reacted to the experience. I made choices about how to behave, they were choices I made because I am me. Similarly the experience got me to think about things I've never thought about before.

right here, right now:

As I said, Claire and I are still friends. I have had a new relationship since, that I am a month and a half away from reuniting with again that I anticipate without expectation, just anticipate.
One difference is though that I didn't hold anything back with misaki, having Claire dump me taught me to cherish a relationship while you have it. If anything I'm more trusting now, having survived being less afraid of the effects of heartbreak.
I have more endurance, as a result of a greater belief of my minds capability, and also having to post up against larger guys in basketball, refusing to be intimidated.
I have an esteem I can take to any relationship and provide a stable foundation for us to grow an dbe greater than the sum of our parts.
My life is in balance and have been acting on my dreams, I'm much more social, and also much more productive with my personal life.
To me the end of my last unsuccessful relationship was a loss, I had that relationship once and now I don't. I didn't want it to end, I didn't decide it should end, but it ended and made room for a better life.
I wouldn't trade the experience for anything else, I think without malice that for me losing the relationship was far more valuable than having it in the first place. Whilst I love a lot of Claire's mannerisms still, and there is plenty in common for a friendship to be based, she is not my Claire anymore, that is just a memory, she is someone else now and I am too, and thats just peachy.

The Joy of Rediscovery

I still love you Yuseke, your coolness along with Slam Dunk lead me back to the glory of basketball. I now almost consider everything in life that isn't playing basketball as a complete waste of my time.
Recently as a result of my budget I've been cutting a lot of fresh vegetables and the other day in my hunger for instant gratification I started eating the raw capsicum and I realised. Man I had forgotten how tasty raw capsicum is what a joy to rediscover it.
I think in many ways the joy of rediscovery is even better than the joy of discovery. To combine both surprise and familiarity is the double whammy value meal that life has to offer.
Get it into ya.

Greatest achievement to date

Due to my new boss being a ringpiece, the importance of establishing a safe secure and meaningful feedback method for management escalated.
So I've been between calls researching things like 360 degree management on www.businessballs.com and reading. The article I found had some interesting side notes on feedback under age discrimination. That the respondent should be aware that feedback like 'you can't teach an old dog new tricks' or 'his youth lacks experience' are ageist and illegal to actually say about someone.
Good news for me as I'm sure I'm starting to cop the 'acting above my age' in that I should be a doting young employee that gets told how to think for another 8 years or so. But more important was the acknowledgement of the fallacy that is 'you cant teach an old dog new tricks' by far the biggest challange any manager faces is that they have stopped developing. They are set in their ways, know their strengths and have a style that has paid off to a certain point. They are happy to muck around with formulas to see if they can succeed and maybe land the next step up but generally their method is beyond reproach.
I hope when I'm 50 or so to still be getting at least 2 hours of productive training a week to make myself more versatile and adaptable to whatever new environs I'm in.
So its obvious a young person has stuff to learn but someone relatively older than me it becomes less obvious, they may percieve their 'potential' to be filled but potential is unlimited.
Previously my greatest achievement was with Andy & Jerry & Co at Uni managing to build that relationship, build their confidence and make them believe. That took about 2 years.
Now in my job interview for Honda, I was given the interviewers' (which consisted of various managers) impressions of the people in the team, one of them was 'so and so can't think outside the box' and 'very stuck in their ways' and I thought 'we'll they have that person pegged to the wall' which isn't to say they didn't value the person, their work ethic and reliability has throughout my tenure at Honda been second to none.
But after time I realised that there was something to her complaints she was just poor at complaining, and that for all this persons complaints about not being listened to where ironically not being listened to or acted on.
Her mannarisms and behaviour were so predictable that the power in the relationship was being abused and she was expected to take whatever shit got shovelled in her direction. Not that it was deliberately malicious, it was everyone's joint habitual effort.
But certain behaviour was missed, or her leadership abilities that manifested in other activities and lunchroom discussions wasn't transplanted to our play at work.
I didn't do the hard work, nor had the know how but I asked the question and invited her to the grown ups table. And Rod the trainer gave her room to move, listened, gave some guidance, put things in perspective and she took up the challenge.
And then after a week of nothing, I saw her lay out a plan and delegate and all the other skills expected of a leader to some of our newbies and I almost cried. Because it was such a sound piece of management it needed no reinforcement.
It didn't even need prompting, it was such a joy for me to overhear I sat in silence just feeling like my investment had paid off 3000% such a short time, so simple and I guess Rod deserves most of the credit for making it happen but its power is not lost on me. I feel I've done something for simply just wanting it to happen.
It may not result in any recognition (though I'll try to ensure that it does) or a pay rise, a convertable car or anything else for her, but I think that if it can be sustained, will do so much for job satisfaction, dignity and esteem that most of the rewards are nigh on being reaped already.
And I thought it would be so hard, it would have so much resistence I wouldn't have thought for such an early payload but it has. So that is my greatest achievement to date.

From the bottom it looks like a steep incline.

I'm down, I admit it. Not depressed, but down which means I have done something to cause it but I can't pin it on anything.
Could it be the imminent collapse of my long distance relationship. I would like to think so, but knowing that very little would change, by virtue of it being long distance I don't think thats it, and the relationship is too recent to cost me much esteem wise by having it collapse.
It's not that I don't care if it falls over or not, I just think it's two-three days of soul searching max as it is a fizzle out not a break up.
For the record though I do hope it lasts so its a contender.
Is it that I am leaving my job, I recently had the epiphony that I actually love my work. It has of late been providing me with heaps of development, frustration and vindication.
I've been polishing rough diamonds at work, getting my way a lot and surprising management. It may be lining me up for a dagger in the back but even that would reinforce that I'm on to something.
To be honest I wouldn't sad as it is, be surprised if I was still thinking about things to improve at work on my flight out of the country.
So maybe I'm down because I'm saying good bye to the only life I've known for the past three years.
Yet again its too positive a circumstance, I'm gaining so much momentum and genuinelly excited about my plans for the next stage of my life.
Could I be down because In my heart of hearts I've shelved yet another script away to never see the light of day. Most dissapointing that we never even really tried to have it fail. Yet again it did its job, it brought me closer to bryce, helped me work through tough times and had me dreaming. So what if it never actuallises in the actual way I visualised.
I don't know. That's probably what frustrates me the most this nondescript feeling of unfulfillment in the midst of a life full of fulfillment, I don't get it.
Nor do I want to get up in the morning, maybe I'm just fucking tired from all the work.
From the top another down hill slope of mine.

Where does the tohm go? (Mastadon Post)

Mostly I've been making my own lunches, when I used to just buy it, thus had time in the morning to blog. So a fortnight has gone by where I have had heaps of stuff to write about but no time to write it. So this will be about 4 posts in one:

Diet or Budget?

I realised that pretty soon I'll be as poor as moreley, and this will continue for a long time. The catch is I'm phenomonally rich now. Interest rates going up is good because my ING will just compound my interest. Really I'll have to beat inflation unless the Howard government keeps up the pointless tax cuts most people's saving ratio is -7% of gross income, mine is more like 30%. But the point of all my lovely saving is that after an extended period of travel I still want some sweet green in the bank.
So I have limited myself to $40 a week food budget. This represents about a 60% tightening of the screws. It was amazing how I just started finishing off old serial. Making whole meals out of bbq sauce virtually overnight.
And I'm losing weight. I always noticed when I tried to clean up my diet that an added benifit was it was cheaper. But I never really thought of approaching a diet with the relatively simple discipline of a budget. Shop once, $40 don't shop again for a week.
Its always good to add another level of discipline to my life. Really when you look at the amount of people over weight in the world (a small amount in the world really) but if you look at the disgustingly fat westerners of the world (disgusting not because they are bad people but what is happening when most people are living subsistance and we need whole buildings dedicated to working off the excess energy we consume) and I realise how fucking retarded our whole set up is.
GDP is how we have benchmarked our success, why we are envious of a country as behind our country as China simply because they have decided to jump on the capatalist bandwagon late.
GDP as a measure encourages workaholia, just plain trying to do more, if output goes up it's good, but GDP is a poor indicater of progress.
Workaholia means longer hours, Australians work the longest hours in the world (which we have to because our standard of management is amongst the poorest in the western world) longer hours necessitate the use of a car to try and minimise the impact on our recreational hours, and cars allow us to be fat.
You could not be fat if you had to ride to work. And you would save money supplementing your own energy, so you wouldn't need as much money. And thusly riding a bike to work and eating within the confines of a budget would be the opposite of progress because it would be bad for GDP.
Anyway I'm down to 76kg after a 3 month plateue of 77kg and I have a budget to thank for it.

Angry

I met up with Trav briefly in Sydney. That man is explosive, he really cares about professionalism and I have to say the man has standards.
He can drop the F-bomb beautifully and really get worked up about an industry like projectionism.
He'll even go so far as give an employer a heads up when a bad employee is heading their way.
That's the kind of standards their needs to be more of world wide. I mean I don't think its a real virtue to get optomistic and try and impose one's goodwill on reality.
Better to get angry (healthy aggression) and acknowledge what is and what is not and try and do something about it. Act on it.
Instead of all the plethora of goodwill activities that are simply about feeling good about something that is yet to achieve something.
Goodwill alone doesn't put something beyond criticism. A good intention executed with incompetence should be just as worthy a candidate for criticism as something of malicious intent executed competently.
I hope I never lose the anger, work last week was up and down for me. My anger was largely directed at myself, because I kept thinking people were sabotaging my careful plans because they didn't share my vision. But they didn't share my vision because I'd gotten my way without showing or sharing it. Because of the awkward politicalness of having to have this shit operate top down.
So I got angry at every attempt to undermine it, and undermine it they did because every layer of middle management thereon could see the work but not the light at the end of the tunnel.
I went and shared my anger though with people who are smart observant and reserve their judgement.
And then I came back up in mood and got the payload of the plan rolling out because of its own merit. Once other people stopped asking the question Why and started working on How it came through and better yet people started to take ownership of it.
And thats what I wanted, I jus got to reduce the anger I feel at people whose opinion differs from my own.

More posts to come, yet more discipline.

Bikes for Christmass

I'm glad that grown up and mature as I am, I can still get excited about a new bike, my new bike is very exciting.
It is smooth like butter, a slimming black motif with carbon front forks, shimano everything apart from the handlebars and seat. A shogun Mach 3. Headwinds and hills are of little concern to me now. Now I am the most powerful cyclist in the world. And instead of maintaining an online presence this weekend I've spent most of the weekend breaking it in, like a fine steed.
Some things that annoy me as a cyclist though:

1. Pedestrians who walk in zigzags or three abreast.
2. Those tourist buses that clog up swanston st.
3. People who just jump out of their cars without looking at their rearview mirror.

When I bought my new bike a sales staff member with broken teeth elaborated on just how painful number 3 is.
Now I got a fast awesome, explosive bike though I noticed the presence in St Kilda of the regular road racers, and came to the following startling conclusion:

whilst the majority of car drivers are not fuck heads some are, similarly whilst most cyclists are not fuck heads some of us too are. One could conclude reasonably that the population just seems to have a fixed % of fuck heads that have to be allowed for no matter what transport they are on.

Last Ride of the Ferris Wheel

Tonight I return home on my Housemates Mountain bike a Malvern Star Rocktrail. Aka 'The Big Wheel' it weighs roughly 1 tonne and could bounce off a fat man with it's tires. It hasn't been the greatest doing my road commute on it. Its suspension gives it a rocking horse effect and robs me of most of my power.
It hasn't effected my time mostly due to the abundance of traffic lights and trams on Sydney road but it does ruinously require a lot of energy. But my new, bike, my new bike is going to be totally kapow! I'm going to call it the 'explodinator'