Category Archives: Better with Anger

Use when I showed control

Better the Scorpion

Posted on by
2

I thought I would write a post not about nature or nurture but about what really drives us and is one of my favourite subjects: values. (Click here to go to my values page which has a ‘self test’ about values you might want to try!)

First off though, I need to tell a story.  It is a ‘fable’ which has been around for ages but is a little hard to find the origin of – look it up on Wikipedia and it doesn’t really help.  That’s not the point, anyway:

A scorpion asks a frog to carry him over a river as the scorpion couldn’t swim. The frog is afraid of being stung during the trip, but the scorpion argues that if it stung the frog, both would sink and both would drown. The frog sees the logic in this and agrees to carry the scorpion across the river on his back. About midway across the river the scorpion goes, BANG! and stings the frog, dooming them both. With the frog’s last breath before he goes under paralysed from the scorpions sting, he says “Why did you do that, now we’re both going to die.”  the scorpion replies “Because it’s in my nature. You knew I was a scorpion when you picked me up.”

I suppose this fable is one close to my heart as I am a bit like the scorpion.  No, who’s kidding who here – I am the scorpion.

The trick is not stinging the frog, when you really, really, really want to.

To me (remember trying to be a better man) I find it hard not to sting as a matter of reflex (remember it’s in my nature) especially dealing with all the dick heads in the world!  (See my post on 6 Percenters – they are really hard not to sting!)

But……

Most of the time going with my nature doesn’t turn out all that well and often (usually always!) makes me feel worse at the end of it.

As the sting is a reflex, I go back to the advice of my old mate Bob Kearney  when dealing with difficult people and situations:

“Don’t just do something, stand there!”

Yeah, you’re right it is a twist on an old saying (if you didn’t get the twist, read it again!).  But, it is the twist that stops instinct taking over from both nature, nurture, rules, common sense and most of all fear (even though fear is not real – click here to read about that!).

Bob would say that in that ‘moment’ you are standing there, consciously thinking about the situation you are in, you can then make a decision which is a response not a reaction.  Bearing in mind that ‘moment’ may be a nano-second in an emergency or a longer period if you have the time – it could be years in a marriage!!!

What happens is the below fundamental realisations come about from just standing there:

  1. I am thinking – not reacting (although this is a bad idea if you are getting chased by something that may be about to eat you – I recommend thinking really fast! – forget it, flight of fight just kicked in!)
  2. I will make a decision which is best for me.
  3. In a short time I wont care about this.

I go through this process on an almost daily basis when receiving todays version of ‘customer service’.  I used to ‘sting’ a lot – especially when I get asked “Are you right!”  Oh, I stung a lot!

Now….. being calm, just standing there…. greeting the morning sun…. I do that….. I just stand there….. (I try not to let my eyes glaze over too much or they might think I am having a stroke!)  Eventually they will say something along the lines of “Excuse me can I help you”  Then I ‘wake up’ and start to engage with them as if nothing has happened.  But this is usually not the end….. Eventually they will call back from the pie warmer getting my highly anticipated Vilies Pie the statement, “SAUCE!” and it all starts over again.

I think we all have something in our nature that we have to fight on a daily basis – it may be the sting or it may even be the reaction of always giving in or worse of all, being oblivious to our lives.

I said at the start of this post that it wasn’t about nature or nurture yet this is probably the reason we are reacting in a certain way – but – our values dictate if we allow our behaviour to continue once we notice (or someone brings it to our attention – how embarrassment!)

It all just takes a bit of concentration and being aware of where we are and what’s happening around us at that moment.  I reckon it is living a ‘mindful’ life by noticing that we are actually here, now.

The mindful man, the better man, the better person, the person who has noticed their life must often resist the temptation to follow their nature (even if that prick really, really, really, really deserves it – SAUCE!)

 

 

 

Better with Des Steele, my friend.

Posted on by
6

Below is my eulogy to my mate Des Steel.

Recently I received copies of the eulogies from his son Rowan Steele and his great mate Graham Puckridge – I have included these eulogies in this post as well (on 24/12/2014) and will repost this on Facebook and Linkedin.

_____________________________________________________________________________

I went to the funeral recently for my old mate Des Steele.

I am a better man for having had him as my friend.

I will miss him.

I had the honour of doing one of the eulogies.  Below is the text of the eulogy.

 

Des was my friend.

Des was a member of the South Australia Police Pistol Club since the mid 70’s, he had his last shoot on the 30th November 2014 when he a Kelly Dog went up the Club for the last time.

Today members of the club are wearing their red shirts in honour of Des.

Des will always be remembered and honoured at the club in the annual awarding of the ‘Des Steele Trophy’ – which was established in 1997. It is always one of the last trophies to be awarded at the Annual General Meeting after people have stepped forward to collect their highest score trophies, most improved trophies, etc etc….. then would come the announcement of the Des Steel Trophy – always a highly guarded secret. At this time there would be shuffling of feet and lowering of eyes as the trophy was usually awarded after the annual interstate trip to the APSPC and was awarded for

“the behaviour Des would be most proud of.”

 Des surprisingly enough only ever won the trophy once in 2004 – when he was on a road trip to Brisbane with 3 team mates, Miller, Webby and Davey-boy-Goad.  Des was left to navigate while Dave drove and the others slept – when they awoke they had travelled 400 km closer to Adelaide, but unfortunately they were travelling to Brisbane, Des only winning the trophy once is testimony to the good company he kept at the club.

Des was my friend: 

I will miss his handshake

I will miss our long chats where would often lament – and use words such as lament – about:

Life
It’s joys, it’s trials and it’s futility – Des’s philosophy of life was so often expressed in literary greats such as Shakespeare, that Des could quote and recite by heart:

Henry the Fifth, Act 4, Scene 3

Old men forget: yet all shall be forgot,

But he’ll remember, with advantages,
What feats he did that day. Then shall our names,
Familiar in his mouth as household words
This story shall the good man teach his son,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered,
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers:
For he to-day that shreds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition;
And gentlemen in England no-a-bed
Shall think themselves accurs’d they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispins day.

I will miss our discussions about literature, about stories
– Sanders of the River
– The Washing of the Spears
– The Indian Rebellion
– Bury my Heart at Wounded Knee
…. And both of us badly reciting poetry

I will miss our chats of love, of women,

I will miss our chats of family and children

I will miss how we laughed about:
– Life, love, women and family
– How we laughed at each other…. And everyone else
– How we laughed about religion – I think most of us know Des’s opinion of who God was…. No man could be so cruel
– I will miss the irreverence….

…. And we would often say, even lament, “Life is often grave, but it need not be serious”

I will miss our beers together:
– Beers at the Pistol Club
– Beers in the Police Club
– Beers on the boat
– Beers out the back
– Beers in the lounge (the last lounge room on earth where you could smoke inside) 

I will miss our friendship…. as so many of you will:
– The old scholars of PAC
– The RSL
– Peter Alexander, Puk
– The men and women of the SAPPC
And all the friendships in the Police and throughout his working and travelling life. The friendships he had with his dogs – and the last, Kelly-Dog

Des’s friendships spanned the years, the generations, occupations, locations, adversity…. and the tyranny of time. Each of these friendships were personal.

Des was a man who if he was your friend, he asked for nothing, listened well, and through this, your life was somehow better. Many of us may not be able to specifically remember the last conversation we had with Des – but we will always remember the way he made us feel…..

Des never underestimated the finality and often futility of life – we would often discuss what appeared so often, to be people living a life oblivious to the only one certainty….

We spoke of it but Des was not like this – He knew that real happiness could be obtained by taking it as it comes, not taking it to seriously and always having time for a beer.

Des in the end didn’t have many possessions, but he surrounded himself with things that didn’t cost much but were of real value… his friends, his photographs, books, his Mum’s paintings. Des only ever used the word ‘JOY’ when he spoke of his children and especially his grandchildren… It is not the man who dies with the most toys that wins, it is the man who dies with the most joys.

Recently, I thought that we had discovered the words to sum up our muses, his sage advice and his counsel :

From Macbeth (Act 5, Scene 5, lines 17-28)

There would have been a time for such a word.
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player

That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more.
It is a tale,
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury

Signifying…. nothing 

It would be at this time, at other funerals I have attended, that I would sit back down next to Des and he would lean over and whisper – “But we’re still here.”

Des Steele, was my friend.

I have lived, and will continue to live a better life, and perhaps be a better man, for having known him.

Des Steele was my friend.

And, I will miss him.

_____________________________________________________________________________

Eulogy by Graham Puckridge

Desmond Luke Steele J.P. 11-7-1928 to 3-12 2014

Firstly thank you to all who have travelled long distances to be here. My name is Graham Puckridge and I have known Desmond Luke Steele and his Family for the last 35 years. It is a privilege and honour to be asked by his family to speak with you today about an incredible man who was a philosopher, a sage, a mentor, a raconteur, a confidante and above all a fantastic friend, Father, Grandfather and companion, to many of us here today.

Des was born at Wayville in 1928. He was one of two children and had a younger Sister Trish, who sadly passed on many years ago. His Father was a teacher at Prince Alfred College and so naturally Des attended Primary and Secondary school here. PAC has always been in his blood and it is fitting that we are holding his memorial in in this Chapel in the College, which was so special to him. To say Des was religious would be an overstatement. He described himself as being an agnostic who believed in divine malevolence. However, he liked to have an each way bet on religion and was always quick to point out that he won the scripture prize here at PAC and he could quote heaps of passages from the bible, none of which he practiced.

After PAC, Des went to Adelaide University where he started studying Medicine. I believe he started a couple times and I think he did about 3 years of medicine before leaving Uni. From what Des told me, he wasn’t the most dedicated student and was too easily distracted with the social side of Uni life.

In 1946, Des went to Darwin where he took up a job as a Registrar of Mines for the Northern Territory. He was responsible to the Commissioner of Mines and when not in Darwin he spent his service around Adelaide River and Rum Jungle. Darwin was still damaged from Japanese attacks and very much a wild frontier town still ravaged with bullet holes. He loved it and thrived on the carefree territory lifestyle. He played football and went shooting crocodiles and buffalo and developed a love of diving, spearfishing and the sea that has stayed with him all through his life. He has described to me how he loved to go diving on the many shipwrecks in Darwin Harbour.

He came back to Adelaide about 1952 and later married his first wife Betty, which produced Rowan and then Alana. He took up a Job in Nuriootpa with one of the wineries working in the Lab and then later moved to Port Pirie where he worked in the laboratories of the Smelters. One of the sayings he picked up in the Barossa locals, which has stayed with him all this time, was “Oh gosh, it is 11 o’clock already so soon already. Where’s the time gone.”

Des then worked as a Rep for a Drug Company called Upjohn, which saw him having to drive all over South Australia in a VW visiting Country Doctors to promote pharmaceutical products. A lot of the country roads were unsealed and he told me what a fantastic car the VW was and he loved to tear up the dirt roads in it. Often he caught up with Doctor’s he knew from his Uni days and would enjoy their hospitality. One occasion he was drinking in the local Pub with the Doctor, when he got called to do an emergency appendectomy. He grabbed Des, got him to put on a gown, scrub up and help him in surgery. He remembers the patient waking up half way through and having to administer chloroform or ether to get them knocked out again. They then rushed back to the Pub to get some beers in before 6 o’clock closing.

I am not sure of the year, but sadly Des and Betty separated and he later on married Roberta. That produced two more daughters, Amanda and Rebecca. Roberta has also travelled from Darwin to be with us here today.

Des took on a job as a Parole Officer with Correctional services. This brought him into contact with the Police and other Law Enforcement Organisations and was to be his chosen career until he retired in 1991.

Unfortunately Des and Roberta separated and Des met and married Cathy. Cathy already had a Son Matthew and Des took on Matthew as his own Son and has been an enduring father figure to him ever since.

All marriages are not made in heaven and Des and Cathy eventually parted ways about 1986. Des then started his long lasting relationship and deep friendship with Helen Michos, which has endured for the last 28 years. Helen’s Son Evan also has looked upon Des as a significant Father figure and mentor in his life and Des was very fond of Evan and his Daughter Hayley. So in a nutshell, Des Steele, 3 marriages, 6 children counting Evan, and 7 Grandchildren Jack, Ellie, Thomas, Amelia, Zack, Poppy and Halely, whom he loved dearly and his world revolved around. Des didn’t become a Grandfather until he was about 73 but often said his Grand children gave him so much Joy.

I first met Des about 1979, when he used to be a regular at the Police Club. He was always very friendly and sociable and loved a drink. Boy did he love a drink! He was a Senior Probation Officer at the Adelaide Gaol and he was very passionate supporter of the Police and C.I.B. in particular. I learned that Des was part of a Group called the Combined Investigators Association, which was a way all the Law Enforcement and Justice organisations networked and socialised together back then before computers, to exchange information, make the system work and get the job done. Through Des, I met a lot of useful contacts and friends in the Justice system many of whom are here today.

I moved to Kadina CIB in 1982 and Des and his children, Matthew, Amanda and Rebecca as well as Kelly dog one, where regular visitors on Friday nights and weekends when they used to go to Wallaroo for weekends fishing. Des had a V8 Valiant, which he used to call the “Ethnic Rolls Royce” and he would call in for a couple quick drinks with the boat on the way to Wallaroo and still be there near midnight. Jean and I eventually began to look forward to these nocturnal Friday night visits as Amanda, Rebecca and Matthew used to fuss over our young Son Brett and wheel him all over Kadina in his stroller until he went to sleep whilst we enjoyed cold frothies.

Des often took me fishing at Wallaroo. On one occasion, we were at Point Riley, it was dead calm and the water like glass. No fish were biting. We decided to go snorkelling and get some scallops. After we had been in the water for a while, we saw a huge school of garfish at the back of the boat. We got back in the boat and bagged out in no time. We returned to shore and went to the Wallaroo Hotel and Des said the fish would be okay and he would fillet them later. It wouldn’t take him too long as he had done a fish filleting course he said. Needless to say no fish got filleted that night and he awoke in the morning to the hum and buzz of blow flies trying to carry the boat and fish away. That’s when I first heard Des’s strategy for dealing with any problem. The ever reliable “F1. Not to worry it doesn’t matter.”

In 1984 the Kadina CIB started an Annual Xmas get together called the ‘Captains Night’ to thank those who had supported us during the year. This function eventually morphed into a fund raising event and ran for 27 years, raising hundreds of thousands of dollars for Yorke Peninsula charities. Des was a great supporter and only missed one year in 27, after a shoulder operation. He eagerly looked forward to it each year and everyone was always very happy to see him. When we used to leave Adelaide to drive up, as soon as we were out of the City limits, he would give a big sigh and say, “It’s all back there mate, I can feel it all dropping away.” He always loved a road trip anywhere and took any excuse to get away, especially to Yorke Peninsula. No trip to Yorke Peninsula was ever complete without a stop at Port Wakefield for a Pie or Pasty from the Bakery.

Des lived in his Family House at Young Street Wayville, just a short distance from the Show grounds. In 1988 he had to sell this home, which he loved dearly and I rented my vacant house at Westbourne Park to him on condition that I could use a room when I eventually shifted back to Adelaide in 1989. For about 6 months, myself and his two dogs Kelly one and Baron, were housemates. We had a lot of laughs. Talk about the odd couple.

Des used to get lamb off cuts from the butcher and cook them in the oven for the dogs. One night we arrived home from the pub peckish to find the fridge empty and two hungry dogs. The smell of the cooked lamb meat was too tempting so, in we hopped into the dogs dinner much to the look of disgust on both dog’s faces.

Another time I was cooking roast pork in the weber on the front verandah and the smell of the crackling had wafted down the street. Des could smell it as he walked up from the bus stop and was drooling at the mouth by the time he got in the gate. I had not even had a chance to do the veggies or gravy, but he didn’t care. He was famished and he got stuck into the meat and crackle like he hadn’t eaten for a week. The next day he was feeling off and went to his Family Doctor complaining of stomach pain. The Doctor who he had been at Uni with, poked and prodded, hummed and haa then sat down and wrote out the sick certificate for “ Fucking Gluttony”. The Doctor was smoking in the Surgery and Des said, “Give us a smoke Doc. No Des, they are bad for you.”

Des bought his current home at Clearview in 1989 and we moved him out there. We have kept in constant contact since then. He retired from Corrections in 1991 aged about 63 and took on the role of being a Pensioner. He was impressed by all the things he could get for free from the Government and he used them wisely. He also became a Justice of the Peace.

In the early nineties his daughter Alana was living in San Diego and Des did his first overseas trip to America to visit her. Des soon made friends with a man, whose Son was an Officer in the US Navy. He was privileged to tour the USS Chancellorsville and be treated to US Navy Hospitality. He was also a regular at the Mission Beach Golf Club bar where Alana used to work. He also made friends and contacts in the San Diego Police.

One of Des’s lifelong passions has been the old west, cowboy movies and western songs. He also had a fascination with Mexico and tried unsuccessfully to learn Spanish. I called it murdering the Spanish language, but he persevered. He did eventually achieve his dream to do a trip to Tombstone to tour the old west and Mexico, he even went to the bull fights.

When he returned he would try and impress everyone with his fluent Spanish and his favourite phrases;

Senor Lo siento, yo no sabía que ella era su hija

  • Sorry Senor, I didn’t know she was your daughter

por favor no me disparar Soy australiano

  • Please Don’t shoot me I am Australian

To this day his email name is Eldesso

Trips

I was fortunate to do many trips with Des. You couldn’t ask for a funnier person to go on a road trip with. His wit and humour kept me laughing and entertained. Des loved the British humour of Monty Python and all the ‘one liner’ gags that came out of it. Especially The Holy Grail and Life of Brian

  • In 2000 we travelled to Bunbury in Western Australia, to catch up with his US Navy mate Sean McLaren whom he had met in San Diego. We met the USS Higgins when it arrived in Bunbury and were privileged to spend a week with Sean on and off the ship. We got access to all areas that civilians would never be allowed to go and it was fascinating.
  • (USS Higgins – Sean McLaren. Nazi’s be bumped into, potato Nazi, forest Nazi, harbour Nazi, rogue locust.
  • Snotty bitch at function on ship Mayors wife.
  • In 2003 his friend Sean visited Brisbane in the USS Blue Ridge, so Des flew there to meet and spend time with him. He was treated like a king on the ship and again got access to all areas.
  • Pistol Club trips weekend Qantas cancelled all flights
  • Point Turton Caravan Park. Only same sex couple in caravan park. Grey nomad couples. “I bet the girls will have heaps of jobs lined up for us when we get home”.
  • Parsons Beach where he felt most at peace and shared so many happy times with his children and grand children.
  • Elliston/Venus Bay, Bairds Bay, Gawler Ranges (Jobby mounds)

 

Funny stuff

There are so many funny anecdotes I could tell that we would be here all day. So perhaps they are best left for later this afternoon when we have a few drinks and celebrate Des’s life in the way he would of wanted us to.

  • Telemarketers Indian telemarketer ringing his home. Hello Mr Steeley. How are you today Sir? No very well I am afraid. Just come back from the doctor and I have to take ……………….. bowels……….Thanks very much for ringing to see how I am.
  • Feigning dementia when getting phone calls from the Tax Office or Centrelink.
  • Garry Johnson’s 50th “I thought I was coming to a 50th not a beauty pageant”
  • Matthews wedding,   “I forgot how attractive you were.”

PASSIONS

Football, Motorcycles, Police Pistol Club, Small boat club, sailing The Alana, Enfield RSL, Fishing, The sea, The Police Club, His many Dogs including Kelly Dog,

The Family shack at Parsons beach, Reading

Parsons Beach was where he felt most at peace and shared so many happy times with his children and grand children.

Desisims

  • Fair component of fuck all
  • F1
  • It’s a wonderful thing we are doing
  • IGA and family court. Checkout guy. That is more than I got for my last visit to the Family Court.
  • Minlaton Bakery. Can you tell me my name and where I live
  • You need a new computer. Either that or a psychiatrist.
  • Indian sales man at door who lost his shoe and never came back.
  • Jehovah’s witnesses at front door. ‘Absolute Drama’
  • Oh you want sugar as well. I suppose you want Milk.

Apart from good times, Des has always been there for me through difficult and challenging times.

Operations

Des had a few Operations over his life. He had both knees replaced one in 1990 and one about 2006. He wasn’t a good patient and absolutely hated being in hospital.

  • After his last Knee Op the nurses found him wandering around Memorial hospital at night with no pants on trying to rescue everyone from train accident.
  • Memorial Hospital when he had his knee OP. He hated the hospital food and wanted me a to bring him a Villi’s pie. He sat there Munching it in ecstasy saying “Graham I can feel all the goodness going right through me, doing me good” I asked him about the cholesterol and he told me he couldn’t see any.
  • Bad patient. Nurses kept coming in and opening the curtains. He would get up and close them.

 

The Heart Valve

Last year Des was told he would have to have an Aortic valve replacement. As you can imagine he wasn’t happy about this, but fortunately he got on an experimental program to have this procedure done by catheter rather than thoracic surgery. After lots and lots of testing to see if he was suitable candidate and numerous delays, he finally had the procedure done in April this year. He was only in hospital about 10 days and the results were remarkable. He recovered quickly, looked and felt better, had more energy and I used the analogy that it was like dropping a new engine in an old Holden. I really thought he had dodged a bullet and got himself another 10 years. He was looking forward to the future and was even in the process of downsizing to a smaller home so he could enjoy life a bit more, with more financial choices and without the worries of home maintenance and upkeep. Sadly that hasn’t eventuated. Des wanted Sue and I to meet him to inspect a Unit he was looking at moving to last Tuesday but he never arrived. All I can tell you is that he passed away so quickly at home, that he would not of known anything about it. This is what he wanted. Des was absolutely terrified of having a stroke or some other ailment that meant spending his remaining years in a vegetative state.

Des had many dear friends from all walks of life and it would be impossible to acknowledge you all today, except to say you know who you are and how much you meant to him. I would however, like to specially thank Des’s neighbour and friend Ray Burman, who saw him nearly every day and was a great help to Des and a carer to Kelly Dog.

Des was funny, intelligent, irreverent and proudly politically incorrect and we loved him for that. His sense of humour and wit was incredible. In many ways Des was an 18 year old in an 86 year old body. He was an inspiration to us all that, that life is meant to be lived. It has been an honour to have shared so many years with Des on his journey through life. Addios Amigo and Rest In Peace mate. We will all miss you and Kelly Dog so very very much. Thank you.

_____________________________________________________________________________

Eulogy by Rowan Steele

Dad was born on the 11th July in 1928 at Wayville to James and Isla Steele.

He had one sister Patricia with which he had a typical brother/sister relationship. Sometimes teasing, sometimes competitive but always loving.

Grandad Steele was a teacher at Prince Alfred College and that’s where Dad went. He played footy for PAC and still caught up with old school mates at the reunions.

When Dad finished school he travelled up to Darwin as Registrar for Mines. Tales from the territory always provided us kids, and his friends with lots of entertaining stories.

He raced motorbikes up there for a while and became a bit of a local celebrity, not only for the enthusiastic way he embraced the Territory lifestyle but for his skills on an old BSA scrambler.

Back in Adelaide, Dad had a few jobs but the main one was Probation and Parole Officer for Correctional Services. Sometimes Dad could whinge for Australia but it was this job that he enjoyed the most, both on the job and all the friends he made (outside of the lock-ups of course).

In Adelaide, Dad met and married our mum. That’s where Alana & I came into the picture.

That wasn’t meant to be and after a while he met and married Roberta. They had two children and Alana and I scored two sisters, Amanda & Rebecca.

That wasn’t meant to be either and Dad eventually remarried again. This one really wasn’t mean to be but on the up-side it bought Matthew into our lives. Dad loved Matt with all his heart and adopted him into our family. Dad finally learnt his lesson and found some stability with Helen as his girlfriend.

All us kids had an atypical upbringing but I mean that in the best possible way and none of us would swap it for quids. We were always surrounded by dogs, motorbikes and a rough and tumble lifestyle that looking back on it always makes me smile and makes me feel the better for it. Most of us can remember seeing a bit too much when Dad would walk around the house in his lap-lap or in a pair of speedos with the elastic gone out of it. That’s why in later years we got him board shorts to wear around the house and on the boat.

Dad loved life, loved a laugh, loved women, loved a beer, loved his kids and his grand-kids, loved his mates, loved pouring money into his boats (well maybe not loved that part) and of course he loved Kelly-dog.

All of you here have your stories of shared good times with Dad and he’d be stoked you came here to pay your respects. He’d also want you not to be upset. We all loved Dad and have some great memories we’ll keep with us. That’s exactly what Dad would want. He’d want everyone to remember the times they shared with a smile, a laugh and a beer.

If anyone is keen, we’ll be heading back to the old Police Club in Carrington Street for some beers, laughs and storytelling.

Lastly, I just want to thank you all for coming today and finish off by quoting Dad:

“It’s a wonderful thing we’re doing”.

Love you pop.

 

Better Driving and Texting!

Posted on by
Reply

Okay, I had my little rant the other day about High Visibility Safety Vests in Better with Hi-Viz and today I am going to sound like a traffic cop, but I really have had enough and here is the reason.

Beep, Beep….. oh sorry I have to stop writing to check what text I just received.

Not a problem it was from Scoopon about discount face creams from Argentina.

Where was I.  Well, I could have been talking to you in the street, getting served in a shop, having a quiet coffee with you just to catch up, out to dinner, or DRIVING! But texting was more important.

Okay as I said in Better thank Mrs Nesmith, we all make mistakes.  I have gone a little over the speed limit, changed lanes without indicating, perhaps even been a little late on a traffic light or even popped down to the end of the street before I realised I didn have my seat belt on.  But, these were a little bit of inattention (which incidentally is the real reason behind most car crashes) and I try my best not to do them again.  I actually bourght myself one of those traffic cameras which records all the time on a continuous loop so that I know Big Brother (Me) is always watching.  It has actually made me a calmer and better driver.  My mistakes are all now possible Adelaide Crap Driver videos, either from myself or others – the cameras are everywhere!

Beep, beep…. kids going to be late home from school. (Why are they texting at school?)

But, and I yell BUT!  Picking up your mobile phone, even if you are stopped at the traffic lights, and checking it or using it for whatever reason in a conscious choice each time you do it to: 1. Break the law and 2. Have all your attention on something else.  If you think it doesn’t matter when you are at the traffic lights then remembe when numerous times the car in front doesn’t move when the lights turn green and you note that the person appears to be looking in their lap.

Beep, beep…. just go a new Twitter comment

I know using mobile phones in cars was initially banned because people talking on their phone was dangerous.  Lets ramp that up a bit as most people doing it now days are ‘typing a short letter’ or ‘reading a short letter’.

I am sorry (well not really) but would you read a book of quotes as you drive along; each one is only a small snippet and you can glance down and get the general gist; plus if there were pictures next to each quote you could give them a quick glance.  Does that sound reasonable.  How about watching television while we drive along – I could fully concentrate during the ads!

Beep, Beep…. sorry just found out I can get a discount golf round in California

I just don’t get it.  I don’t do it, anymore.  About a year ago it suddenly dawned on me that this is one of the stupidest things I do in my life other than smoking, but that’s another story – don’t read my post Better Stop Smoking or Better (Still) Stop Smoking, perhaps get back to me next week on a new day one!  Which makes me think why all the uproar about smoking yet only a whimper about not concentrating while you a piloting a half tonne upwards weighing death machine.

Beep, Beep…. unbelievable a dancing cat in a spiderman outfit!

Shouldn’t the road toll be zero, yes zero.  I could never understand how the Goverment and Police were happy that we got the road toll under 100.  So we were happy that 99 people were killed and thought that was an acceptable loss for having transport and freedom of the roads.  What other thing would we say it is okay to randomly sacrifice 99 of our citizens to get something in return – what is worth a life.

Beep, Beep…. 

Sorry I just found out that my friends kid was killed in a car accident.

Beep, Beep….

Thank God they weren’t using a mobile phone when they crashed.

Only I was doing that to receive the message.

I do make mistakes.  I sometimes decide to do things I shouldn’t.  I have decided that I do not want my life to end in a car crash where I might take my wife and kids and someone else with me.  I did learn to drive more patiently as I describe in my post  Better Driving or Dancing and I did put in the camera as described in Better at Driving.

But, all my driving, all my attitudes when on the road, are choices I make.

Being a better man is also about being a better citizen; perhaps in the place where we meet the most strangers in our community, in dangerous circumstances, on the road.

PS:  I cant help being me, so when I see someone at the lights using their mobile phone or texting, I just beep my horn twice (Beep… Beep…) and when they look up I pretend it wasn’t me.  When they look down again, I do it again, and this sometimes may go on until the lights turn green.  Most often though it confuses them so much they put their phone down.  This would be a great viral activity, plus it is fun (so long as your wife is not in the car with you!)

Better with Six-Percenters

Posted on by
6

I wrote a post not that long ago, Better with Bob, about a guy who was my mentor.

One of the things Bob taught me was about Six-Percenters.

Bob came up with the theory that about 6% of all people are difficult to deal with. I heard Bob talk about this over the years and think he was mellowing a bit when he said, they were difficult to deal with, because he initially referred to them as dickheads.

I have to agree on both counts.

Do you know a six-percenter?  Perhaps you are the six-percenter in the room. You know who they are. The difficult person in meetings, all meetings, every time. The person who has their hand up first to ask why we have to volunteer. The person who knows their job specs back to front, and works to them, exactly. They are the person with the boss, the union, their wife, husband, boyfriend, girlfriend and lawyer on speed dial; just in case they have been dealt with in a manner they see as unfit for their standing.

It you don’t think they really exist, get on a 50 seater bus travelling interstate and you will always know who those 3 are who are going to cause ‘difficulties’ all the way, even before you leave suburbia. (3 is 6 percent of 50!)

There is another sad aspect to six-percenters. They attrack about 14% of the rest of the population as their followers or perhaps, better described as their posse.  This 14% are the ones that perhaps are a bit weak or more importantly need a leader to follow.

Now our six-percenters and their posse are a reasonable 20% of the people you have to deal with.  I am sure Bob was aware of this and the old adage that you spent 80% of your time dealing with 20% of the people!

The unfortunate part about six-percenters are that there is no point in trying to make them change – they will only change when they want to.  There is however a chance of saving the 14% all the time.

Those 14% just need the right leader to follow.

I suppose leadership is constantly about learning, and perhaps learning who you six-percenters are and not wasting time on them and finding the 14% and giving them someone else to follow.  Bearing in mind that leadership is different to leading (see my page under Better Stuff, Better at Leading with a leadership model Bob gave me).

Do we all spend too much time dealing with and having angst with six-percenters.

Waiting for them to change while they are possibly the greatest thorn in your side is a difficult proposition.  It is often that little prick (both literally and figuratively) that can lead to an infected sore, septicaemia and then death!

A question I often ask myself is why I am allowing someone else to dictate my happiness.  The answer is in the question, in that, I am allowing them.  I suppose my wife summed this up best in her muse My Happiness.

The most terrifying thing about six-percenters is that you may be one.  More terrifying is that you are part of the 14% in the mindless posse!  I am sure we all have six-percenter and 14%er moments in our life.  Some of us may even have been six-percenters, who for some reason changed.

In my post Better Hatred or Hated I explored the danger of anger and hating in your life.  I think dealing with six-percenters is often used as an excuse for not being a good leader.  I understand that good leaders also need good followers.  We do spend a lot of time talking about leadership when perhaps we should be teaching our kids about ‘followship’.  Bearing in mind this is not new and was around long before rocket science with Aristotle the Greek philosopher saying 200 years ago:

“He who cannot be a good follower cannot be a good leader.”

I know it is often hard to demonstrate good ‘followship’.  It often doesn’t have to do with me being part of the troublesome 20%, but that I don’t trust my ‘leader’.  Trust and values are the key I think.  I briefly wrote about values and trust in my post Mindfulness – Trust and have tried my own method of finding what my values really are which I describe on the page ‘Values‘ under the menu item Better Things on my home page.

So where are trust and values connected in both leadership and followship.  Surely if I believe, what you believe and I have the same values as you, then I trust you, I will follow you – simple really.  So, why doesn’t that always work so well.  Perhaps another key factor is that we all lose sight of the purpose of where we are going.  The six-percenter can always ‘win’ because they destroy the virtuous purpose with meetings, budgets, project projections, etc etc that we all have allowed to rule our lives.  Probably a good time to look at the real purpose of a lot of things – well, everything really.   I wrote in Better Hatred or Hated  that the ‘winner’ dies with the most joys not the most toys.  I think the six-percenter concentrates their life on the toys and even when they get them’ complain that they didn’t come with batteries.

My plan now is be a better man and to make sure that I am not the six-percenter in the room.

 

Better Hatred or Hated

Posted on by
1

I was watching the news today, well actually over the last couple of days and realised that most of it is about hatred.

I thought about all the things I hated… and the people.

I started getting a list, and checking it twice to see who has been naughty and must be hated.

I realised I hated:

  • My year 6 primary school teacher who I now realise was a bully and possibly a closet paedophile
  • The guy who dobbed me in at work to further his career
  • Bad drivers, even when it is a genuine accident.
  • Bad service in shops and restaurants.

This is short list as I realised as I started writing it that I hated more things than I liked.  Then I thought about what I was going to do about all this hatred.  I decided that I was NOT going to:

  • Bash anyone involved.
  • Tell them that I hated them.
  • Bomb them or try and kill their family.

I decided that all this hatred was all about nothing.  I watch the news and read the papers and they tell me about the people that hate me: and I hate them back.  I spoke to my wife tonight and said that the world would be a better replace if all these people that hated me were wiped from it… and when I said it, I meant it.  After I said it I got to thinking about why I said it and why I meant it when I said it.

I realised that I didn’t mean it.  I realise no matter how much they hated me I don’t want them to be dead: even if their only reason for living is to want me dead.

I have a great problem in understanding a lot about the world; lately I can not understand when you are the richest person in the world why you want more and don’t use all your money to make other peoples’ lives better; and, I cant understand when you have all the power why you want more; and why you don’t make the world a better place with all your power.

I genuinely believe that most people think this way, yet we let the people that don’t think this way rule our world.  We often pretend that we think like them: this pretending can actually fill an entire life.

I can’t waste my time on hating people.  I am sorry that people hate me, for whatever reason they may hate me.  I am sorry about things that happened in the past that they think makes them hate me and gives then a reason to hate me.  I am sorry for the people that have the power and the money that make other people hate me when I don’t have the power and the money.  Even if really I don’t want the power and the money because I suspect it will make me like them – I could actually lose myself.

I am sick of people hating each other for no reason, or even for a reason.

I ask myself the questions: are they hitting me, killing me, hurting me, hurting my family, making it that I cant live my life the way that I want  Are they in my home, are they stopping me from living my life the way I want to.  Isn’t it true that I actually want them to want all these things that make a good life. I want them to have food, shelter, clothes, a chance at an education, someone to love, something worthwhile to do and something to look forward too.  I critically think about wether I really want them to have those things, the things that I want, and the answer is yes.  So why would I hate them; it would be like hating myself.  So what happens when I think this way and they still hate me.  I don’t think there is a lot I can do about it.  I know hating them back is not the answer.

Hate is such a horrible word, and so over used.  The word hate has a best friend and it is anger.  Although these two words may be loosely thrown together in conversations and the media, I think the connection is always there; are we angry because we hate so much, or are we hateful because we are so angry.

What are we angry about?

Do we get our food, shelter, clothes, a chance at an education, someone to love, something worthwhile to do and something to look forward too….

If the answer is yes, or probably, or I hope so, or even maybe in the future, or perhaps, then that may be good enough.  Come to think of it, that is good enough.

It’s not about the right it’s about the opportunity.

What we have, or what we want is not a right, there really is no entitlement in this life, it is sometimes what we just make the best of.  If we are lucky continually good things splash our way, if we are unlucky, how deep is the shit we can stand – and how can we, if we want to, crawl out of it.  Bearing in mind wallowing and being a victim appear to be ways of life that people often choose when they don’t have to.

But like a lot of things I write about, mainly to myself, it is a matter of choice.  The difficulty is in making the choice.  The choice often doesn’t really matter, as we can justify it anyway, and live with it.  I think the trick is to know that your choice is not only about you.

Perhaps that really is the answer about hatred.  The fact that no matter how you try and hide it, or attribute blame, it really is about you. Anger is about you, hatred is about you, so therefore if you live those things you are just living for you, there really can’t be genuine joy in that life.

I figured it out.  It is not he who dies with the most toys who wins: but he who dies with the most joys.

So maybe being a better man is not all about me.

Better a Racist

Posted on by
3

Well here I go, ready to be slammed, labeled, ostracised and abused.  (I don’t know wether to say sorry in advance or apologise?)

I just watched ‘Gran Torino’ the movie with Clint Eastwood that has more racial vilifications and politically incorrect moments than the David Chappelle Show or a Steady Eddie comedy routine or the latest (not funny) comedy show on SBS Legally Brown.  But, I have worked out that any comedy routine is okay and funny (even if it’s not) if you do it about yourself, or your own race (no matter how stereotypical the joke), or your disability, or your sex…. Just don’t have no white man doing no black joke or misogynistic joke or visa versa!  (I used the word misogynistic just to let you know that if you are a man do not do woman jokes – no matter how funny, I’m taking even if they hilarious – as it means that now and for ever more you hate women, and discriminate against them, and suppress them… be warmed).

Of course, I was thinking about all this after Gran Torino and watching the football a few weeks ago where the biggest story of the day was calling for the heads of players who had ‘defaced’ a poster of two players with the highly scandalous comments of ‘going to the Mardi Gras’ or similar…. The details really aren’t important. I thought it was funny, as it was.

What is important is that I am a white Anglo Saxon male, and it’s probably my fault anyway.

I am sometimes ashamed and often confused at my whiteness.

I read up on political correctness, as I realised not being politically correct was somehow all my fault. In my reading I started to think perhaps it was not created how I thought: perhaps it was not even what I thought. I also wondered how come there are all these politically incorrect jokes, which I think are sometimes really funny, still being created that don’t actually destroy society. Below (I understand if you want to skip it) is the history of political correctness and to tell you the truth – I don’t get how we got from that to this? (sometimes I don’t even know what this is?):

    • Historically the term “politically correct” was used disparagingly, to refer to someone whose loyalty to the Communist Party line overrode compassion, and led to bad politics. It was used by Socialists against Communists, and was meant to separate out Socialists who believed in egalitarian moral ideas from dogmatic Communists who would advocate and defend party positions regardless of their moral substance. Reference – “Uncommon Differences”, The Lion and the Unicorn Journal
    • In the 1970’s according to one version, political correctness actually began as an in-joke on the left: radical students on American campuses acting out an ironic replay of the Bad Old Days BS (Before the Sixties) when every revolutionary groupuscule had a party line about everything. They would address some glaring examples of sexist or racist behaviour by their fellow students in imitation of the tone of voice of the Red Guards or Cultural Revolution Commissar: ‘Not very “politically correct”, Comrade!’ Reference – Hall, S. (1994) “Some ‘Politically Incorrect’ Pathways Through PC”
    • In the 1990’s political correctness is one of the brilliant tools that the American Right developed in the mid–1980s, as part of its demolition of American liberalism…. What the sharpest thinkers on the American Right saw quickly was that by declaring war on the cultural manifestations of liberalism – by levelling the charge of “political correctness” against its exponents – they could discredit the whole political project. —“Words Really are Important, Mr Blunkett”, The Observer (16 December 2001)

I also note that not being politically correct often is used to exclude groups from things, a sort of discrimination for everyone except the minority. But, I wondered considering the above brief and probably not totally correct history if in fact political correctness and racism are both things that we don’t understand.

I was thinking, that surely thinking is a matter for me and only saying or doing can possibly be something wrong, well at least as viewed by the rest of the world as opposed to someone reading my mind.

I got to thinking about my career and realised that I had been called a ‘white cunt’ more times than I had publicly vilified another race, which when I think about it is never. I think about the time I have discriminated against another person, for any reason, and there is a void of examples.

I got to thinking about the time I was having a smoke and was asked by a group of Aboriginal people for one and said I had just popped down from my office with one, and sorry I didn’t have any others. I was called a white cunt, abused and threatened with violence. I rang the Police and the abuser was arrested. I was approached by one of the group afterwards and asked very politely why I had called the Police and I told them. They said they were very sorry it had happened. They stood there for a moment, obviously thinking, and then said, if I hadn’t invaded their country in the first place, and made them speak English, then I couldn’t have been sworn at and I should be ashamed of being a Captain Cook invader. I couldn’t argue with that and went back to my office. I was confused as I did somehow feel guilty. Should my guilt be more than a passing thought or should I be ashamed.

I got to thinking about all the things I am ashamed of for being white.

  • I am ashamed of the Anagu Pitjantjajara Yankunytjatjara (APY) Lands. If you have been there you will know that it is a third world country in the middle of our country and we ignore it.  Also if you only say APY and can’t pronounce the full title – perhaps you should be ashamed.
  • I am ashamed of not being able to identify the difference between sorry and an apology. I am sorry a lot of things happened but how do I apologise for things that happend before I was born and I had no control over. I am more sorry because I have worked on the APY lands.
  • I am ashamed I have never been in a mosque, an Australian Hindu or Buhdist temple, a Synagogue and lately a church.
  • I am ashamed that languages are lost, stories are lost and history is forgotten.
  • I am ashamed I speak only one language.
  • I am ashamed that I don’t know any boat people.
  • I am ashamed that our country is so vast and yet so empty.
  • I am ashamed that maybe the wars the we fought didn’t give us the results they were fought for, other than victory.
  • I am ashamed of multiculturalism, because I don’t know what it means.  I don’t know what Australian culture is either, is it multicultural or are we multi cultures living separate in the one country.  Am I part of the multi cultural society as my ancestors were German or am I Australian – am I an oppressor, an invader?  I cant remember doing any of those thing though? I sorry my ancestors came here and who should I apologise to?

I suppose I could do something, so I am, I am writing this and putting my name to it.

I am saying three men walk into a bar, and they are friends and they take the piss out of each other, because that is being Australian; yet none of them were born in Australia.

I watch the movie ‘They’re a Weird Mob‘ and am grateful that there is no more ‘six o’clock swill’ and laugh at the stereotypes of the era, who when I come to think about it, built our country.

I wonder why ‘Gran Torino’ wasn’t banned and realise it is a movie about values not racism or vilification or hurt feelings.

I want a more peaceful life, but it is often too complicated and filled with messages I don’t understand anymore: perhaps I am just getting to the same point as Walt in Gran Torino. It was what I wrote about What is Being a Man, well, my definition of being a man.   But, it is not about being a man, it is about being part of the human race. It is so much about what we say and not what we do, that in the end we say nothing and do nothing.

Can white men really jump. We can jump to conclusions, we can also jump to the defence of others, we can also jump out of the way and let it all happen because we’ll get blamed for it anyway. Sorry.

I have decided that being a racist, or politically incorrect are not the same thing. I am politically incorrect, but I am also Australian and we give everyone…. Read that everyone, a fair go. That fair go is also about giving it to ourselves, along with an entire diatribe of genuine, heartfelt, witty, funny piss taking.

Call me a ‘snowflake’ a ‘Captain Cook’ a ‘white cunt’ and I’ll reckon you must be a mate, an Australian, as no body takes the piss as good as we do.

But, discriminate against my mate, suppress my mate, threaten my mate, take away my mate’s stuff, hurt my mate and I will defend their wurlie, their tent, their igloo, their adobe, their home…. I will stand by their side and fight for them with all that is mine against any foe.

After all, I am Australian and when we are not taking the piss out of each other we are usually fighting side by side…. And even then we are taking the piss out of each other!

Just one last thing. I am truly sorry. I am sorry that in trying to become a better man I still find it necessary to want the rest of the world to be better as well, albeit accompanied by a good long piss take without filling in a hurt feelings report!

I think I will be a better man by paying more attention to what people do and not what they say: sticks and stones and all that…..

Better with Friends

Posted on by
3

My wife wanted me to meet a friend of her’s from years ago who she admired as a craftsman and builder… he was coming from interstate and was just here for the night.

I said I didn’t want to.

There was a reason for this.

I have good friends, I love my friends.

I have a group of friends that at the end of phone calls, text messages and emails we say or write ‘LYLAB’ – which stands for “Love You Like a Brother” (Then again there was this great comment after one of those messages that instead of saying LYLAB what was written was LYMTMB – which stood for “love you more than my brother”….. hard to explain in some circumstances but understandable in others……)

I said to my wife (I regretted it a bit later) that I didnt want to meet her friend from years ago, as I didn’t want anymore friends, and for me to get a new friend someone would have to die.

I am pretty sure that the guy she wanted me to meet was a good bloke, my wife is a great judge of character, but, I didn’t have any history with him or any shared experiences and I was working on just geting my own experiences together at the time.

I got reminded….

I just have to talk briefly about reminded, because I am now getting to a point in my life when I am constantly reminded, well actually remembered if there is such a word, of things that have happened in the past.  The difference about these reminded rememberings is that they are usually memories of things that I have not thought of since they happened. It goes to show that my religion could possibly be correct, but it also goes to show that everything we do today has some thing to do with what has happened in the past.  This is not in a mystical sense, but in the sense that memories are not every really gone, but only come back into context, when they are actually in context. The thing is that these rememberings are usually not something I have thought about since it happened and for all intensive purposes was gone from my memory forever, and suddenly it is smashed into the now of my brain…… and it is like I am there again….. and it is sometimes an okay feeling to have…. sometimes a bad feeling.

Anyway.

I didn’t meet her friend, but, I did start to think about the friends who would have to die to be replaced.

Why were they in that group
Why couldn’t they be replaced
Why did I love them (and sometimes hate thm at the same time…)
Where did they live in my head…….
(and why did they live in my head?)

Well, you have to spend a bit of time thinking about why you think about the things that you do and where did or do those thoughts come from.

If this post sees the light of day, and it is the first one you have come across then some of these ruminations must be imaginations of the madness within me ….. Or, at least that is what I would be thinking if I was reading this (and I have read this a couple of times and made a few changes before I posted it, but each time I read it it seems like I can’t change it to not sound a bit crazy.)

Wow, the above was getting into the silly world of writing from my head to the keyboard with no filter…..’

so, onward…..

So were did the death of my friends requiring a replacement come from?
Nowhere and everywhere and the mentor (read the blog about Bob)

It is all about who you allow to live in your head….

First of all I have to tell you a story that Bob told me, and when he told me it, it was a story about me.  It was a story about the witches, Woulda, Shoulda, Coulda (the Worlock Gunna hadn’t yet been invented?)

I just changed my mind, I dont want to tell you a story, I want you to experience a story. The sad part of this story is that if you get into it, and let yourself experience it, then it will manafest the witches.

Think about your worst day at work, the last fight with a friend/wife/husband/workmate etc etc…. and as you were leaving that fight (either covered in blood or literal blood, or worse, damage, literal or actual, or emotional damage or some other damage, that even now leaves a scar that itches….)

Keep imagining.

It is your worse day and you are driving home….
The witches are in the car…..
You are gripping the wheel….
Driving home surrounded by the worst group of drivers on the planet….
Everyone is fucked except you…

You have a plan about the wrongs that have been avalanched upon you today, plus a few if not all the ones from the past…
You start the ruminating, then the plan for vengence, no not vengence you are way beyond that, this is outright revenge: there is no sitting on the riverbank today….. THEY WILL PAY……

Pay……
Pay What?
They will pay in that every minute that you let them live in your head they are stealing some of you from you…

Time you can never get back.

Well maybe it is time to reset the ledger.

They don’t pay rent so why do you let them live in your head!
I will say that again, because this is the most important part of this post “IF THEY DON’T PAY RENT THEY CAN’T LIVE IN YOUR HEAD”

Let me tell you about that! Let me tell you about the rental properties in my head that I manage.

My head has a a finite number of rooms.
The room with best View.
The room for my band of brothers.
The room for friends, family and close acquaintances, and
The room for people I have not yet met……

THE BEST VIEW
These are the people that love you and you love them. It might be your family it may not. They remember your birthday and hug you when you cry. They are your Mum, your Dad, your brother, your sister and those members of your family that make it a family. They get the best view and they get free rent for life (okay, sometimes they forget to pay the rent, but somtimes the rent is not necessary).

THE BAND OF BROTHERS
I got this from Bob and I can’t ever imagine making the sacrifice that he had to form his band. But, I have my band of brothers. They are the guys and girls that when you call, they come – anytime – anywhere – for any thing. They fight when you have to fight and they fight when you can’t fight. It’s a bond that is LYLAB – love you like a brother.  They start you on the right path and they stop you on the wrong path. But, not matter what path you are standing on, they stand shoulder to shoulder with you, they stand fast, unwavering, because they are your Band of Brothers.

FRIENDS, FAMILY AND close ACQUAINTANCES
Often these rooms are not visited often. The crowd is often a bit messy and is a bit on the transient nature. But, if you go to enough parties with the right people, then you only end up at parties with the right people. They are the peopel who pay rent, in your family (the annual, a bit awkward family BBQ  (but they are the host), the close aquaintances that live next dooor, offer to make you a coffee now and again at work, organise the secret Santa, or maybe are just the old odd bod that collects cans around your neighbourhood. they pay rent, they make your llife richer, more confortable and more than anything else…. connected.

PEOPLE I HAVE NOT MET YET….
Hey, the empty room. dont, dont ever, fill it with the ironing board, or the boxes that you haven’t unpacked from the last 3 moves. This may be an empty room, but a room that is prepared to to filled. The friend you have not yet met…..

So I am better with friends.  I am better because of my friends.  I am also better because of the friends I no longer have – they didn’t pay rent and they no longer live in my head.  I try to keep the Witches at bay and my friends in my head.

Next time I am driving home, every time that I am driving home, they will get the best view. I know through them I will be a better man.

Better at Driving

Posted on by
Reply

This post is actually about not being better a driving.

Traffic just sucks, all other drivers other than me suck.

A few years ago I used to drive around wondering at the phenomenon of ‘road rage’. I thought the entire process was pointless. And most of all I was proud of the fact that I was not a part of it. I was a calm driver. things just happen and if you keep driving then they are over, and most times they don’t matter.

Then something changed.

I can’t even put my finger on it (other than it being part of my overall distain at most of the rest of the world – on occasions…. this is not being a better man type commentary, but some days the world does nothing but suck – perhaps I need to write a lot more about what my friend Kate tells me about NOT JUDGING!)

I started to care about the driving of others. Not only at the time but seethingly afterwards. It has been getting worse and I don’t like it.

I bought a camera the other day. You know one of those constant record why you drive cameras. I realised that knowing I was being filmed all the time while driving would make me think about my decisions – especially as it also records sound (no swearing or abusing). Plus I knew then I (Me and Me alone) would be responsible for my actions and reactions.

It has been working, but I feel like it is a moral cheat.

I always say (and love to say) “Integrity is doing the right thing when nobody is watching” but “Integrity is NOT doing the right thing, because someone might be watching”. Maybe my driving does not have the integrity I like but sometimes our moral compasses needs a reminder that they are there and we need to follow them.

Better Simple

Posted on by
Reply

Yesterday I was commenting to a mate that sometimes it is all too hard and too complicated to bother doing half the stuff we have to do just to survive in modern society.

In my last job the boss said one of his things was, ‘don’t make it too complicated – keep in simple’.  Funnily enough in that job we did that and got the job done.  The down side was that because we didn’t create any fuss, demand additional money, people, resources, complain at every meeting and constantly bitch about how hard we were working…. no one noticed. In that job, what was a great strategy, faded into non-existence because it had actually got the job done, without fuss (oh the irony!)

I started to think about the complexity of things.

I know there are a lot of complex things in the world, and lots of complex things need to be done in life (bringing up kids is no walk in the park!), but…..

I am sure that most people don’t want it to be that hard, yet ‘those people’ are often the ones that are making it hard.  It is a bit like, it is only hard if I have to do it, but, it is not hard if you have to do it; do you know why? because you have to do it, it’s not me.

When a person is requiring you to do things a difficult way, they will justify this as reasonable because that is ‘the process’ (I’m sorry but you can’t have the refund etc etc etc, until you complete this form which of course requires information you don’t have with you – and a DNA sample – all of which you have to travel home to get, again…. you can of course fill out the form on line but that will require you sign up for a new account requiring the verification of identity which you can only do ‘in store’…. fucking kill me!)

Where was I….

…. this is the process or their job, or they don’t make the rules and they have been told it must be done that way (have you ever said these things and realised how stupid and obstructionary you sound – probably not).  In addition, when you explain the illogical nature of what they are asking, they mostly can not understand what you are talking about.  They don’t know why it is stupid, unnecessary. More often than not, they can not even explain what happens next and why you are doing it in the first place…. is this you, it has been me.

It is usually, if they can not explain why they want you do some obscure process usually for the age old reason of modern logic which is, because that is the way It has always been done.

Is the entire world going insane and not actually realising it, because insane (complicated) is the new NORMAL.

I think being a better man means I will be the one that doesn’t do this anymore. I don’t think I want to be ‘those people’ or the infamous ‘they’ (whoever ‘they’ are – perhaps I am they?). But, I suspect I will have to notice I am doing it first……

 

Better Write a Note

Posted on by
Reply

I was having a ‘discussion’ with my wife the other day and we started to stray into the zone of recrimination, accusation and allegation (plus a few good ones from the past).

We actually caught ourselves and stopped.

My wife actually presents a course called ‘Say it Safely’ and I was using my invented behavioural modification method (self taught of course) called ‘A Dangerous Dialogue” which is my anti ‘Say it Safely’ strategy.

I realised that I had a lot of tools I could have used (including ‘Say it Safely’) but they just don’t seem handy enough…. They weren’t around.

The funny part about this story is that after thinking about keeping my tools handy I wrote a note to myself which said “Note to Self – have a note to self”

There is no use having tools, ideas, plans, sayings, quotes etc etc unless they are where you can get at them, when you need them.  I have my Journal, but only after I write pages of ramblings as a madman and occasionally read back over the months, do I find the gem that is worth either keeping or thinking about more.

Yes, I know My Religion is just waiting to present me with the ‘heads up display’ of the right answer at the right time…. but, just in case, I think it pays to sometimes write a few things down.

I have my journal, but now days it can be Facebook, Twitter, whatever. You can even start a blog, like me!

I just think it pays to work on the fact that on some days your heads up display is more like be heads up your arse and there are no answers handy and no index to all the good shit you’ve been learning.

Note to Self – Write note to self….. And keep it handy.