A Wall Street Washington ?

The political satire that plays out daily in front of our eyes is one fraught with uncertainty, ripe with miscommunication, and dreadfully effective in the tactics of confusion against the public. For a nation founded upon choice, it is quite ironic, for arguments sake,  that we are presented primarily with two options, the red and the blue, a pachyderm or an ass. As a public whole, we are called upon to make blind and ignorant decisions on little to no qualified basis regarding our political future. Let us for a moment imagine a country with two types of beverage, two types of car, two types of shoes, and every "x" amount of years one was asked to select one to stand behind and claim for the next sequential period. To be accurate, and acknowledge the scrappy upstarts in the arena of congressional conflict -- The Greens, Independents, Tea's -- we will incorporate occasional third choices, but sadly the equivalents of mouthwash, smart cars, and those plastic sandals sold in grocery stores. Yes, you can use them, but what's the point? 

What if we were to supplant the political party theory with free market economics that runs American business? Say we subjected it to Adam Smith's invisible hand, and threw it upon the rocky demands of the American consumer, how long would this theoretical business last? I would wager one holiday shopping season and be thrown out via discount isles and ten for one deals in the new year. America, as we are taught, more than any other country in the world, is constructed on diversity, difference of opinion, and independence of choice and action. We like to pick and pull, to manufacture a lifestyles unique to ourselves, and symmetric to no one else. America's essence is being able to pick what you want for lunch, and then what you want to drink with it. Yet, in the ultimate option, the allegiance we must make that carves and steers our collective direction more so than any other, government, we are faced with the equivalent of  black or white, with grey being only a novelty and far from effective. 

What if we had a wizard to help us with our decision, likened to those that help us install our Itunes and update our web browsers. Imagine that via this browser, we could customize, select, and tweak all of our preferences for political representation. Each man and woman creating a profile shaped to our exact specifications and selected to optimize our values, ethics and goals with the end goal being, basically, to properly inform every citizen on who they should cast their vote to support. We have all taken the "What Animal are you?" quizzes on Facebook, or via e-mail, where we answer an over extended set of arbitrary questions which formulate an exact species meant to mirror our inner selves. Now transfer this over to the over complex, clouded, frustratingly simple task of aligning ourselves with a candidate, one who is true of what we want and desire in our America. Frankly, I believe most Americans, most importantly those who do not vote, simply do not know, nor understand how to make the choices which they believe in. 

Gone would be the smoke and mirrors of campaigns, commercials, debates, tight rope walking on difficult issues, aiming to please most and perturbing all. Maybe we all need a little help to read the road map of the Columbia district instead of relying on preprogrammed tom tom's that always seem to lead us back to where we never wanted to be. 

Of course, this would dynamite the apple cart. The party system of American politics is an art form, perfected via repetitiveness. It straddles the sweet spot of our cerebral abilities, luring the naive and brilliant alike. We clash on so much, we rant and yelp and holler and vehemently abhor, and then elect the leaders who have differentiated themselves the least by sanding down every rough edge upon them until no one is subjected to a splinter. In some cases even, we allow those who not so long ago we admonished to return to positions (see CA elections) to have second cracks at bat, clinging to hopes that through past error, correct objectives and paths may be forged. Our president recently passed a tax bill that incensed countless within his party, and yet, the irony here is that this act of betrayal, of compromise, is being called by many the reason by which he will earn re-election. 

We are all each but one, yet if we review and formulate our personal preferences for governmental policy I can't help but wager that when it comes to issues at hand, most would find themselves picking and pulling from both parties more frequently than a shopping spree contestant. So then who represents me? Who represents you? Neither candidate exactly of course. The average American is a hybrid of governmental policy and alignment, and those that say they only bleed red or blue are simply blind to the sacrificial conformation they are allowing through their way of political allegiance. The question for those in power becomes who can piss off the least. Who can twist and contort their intended actions most effectively so as to confuse, and persuade more of the voting demographic than the opponent. 

If only politics followed the models of business. Today's consumer, through multitudes of media, effects and dictates the supplier more than ever before. Products are constructed to exact wants and needs. Options are available, you can get what you want. If a product does not fit your prerequisites, another will. It is not the consumer who must bend his desires, curb his or her needs. Rather it is the multi national conglomerate who must ensure that they do everything within their power to properly represent their clients specifications or risk forever losing them to the next guy, and today more often the little guy, around the corner, who IS willing to tailor his services for them is the one who will earn the business. 

Politics lacks bankruptcy, mergers, acquisitions and free market supply and demand. Instead, as a people, we are still subjected to the mercy of the parties, forced to align ourselves often with a team whose proverbial coach we don't like. They call the shots, and we must line up or risk being left out altogether. Perhaps one day things will change, choices will be abundant and our visions will be what we hoped they would. Until then, we must roll the dice on what each one of us feels is the lesser of two evils and pray we simply don't come up snake eyes. 

Yankee Upgrades

Growing up and living in America is a great thing, without question, but after traveling and experiencing other cultures, on opposite sides of the world, it is hard to say that there are not a excessive amount of improvements and upgrades that I believe would be welcome additions in the land of the free and home of the brave.

1)   Listen to “Happier” music. Anyone who frequents almost any club, bar, drinking spot with musical accompaniment in America will inadvertently encounter a negative sounding song within minutes most the time. With Rap & r&b and grunge rock with rebel alternative dominating the US music charts seemingly years on end, the vibe and overall feel of the US music scene always seems to drag with it a stigma of seriousness, stress, hardship and many times anger. This transfers over to people either a) standing in bars awkwardly, drinks in hand or b) grinding on one another harder than a bear trying to scratch its back on the nearest pine tree.  In Australia & New Zealand, the music carries with it more electro assistance, no question, but the music and emotions created by it also is undisputedly geared towards a happier audience. There is rap, but it’s not “hardcore” which tends to feature lyrics such as but not limited to blunt, bitches, handguns, sex positions and sick whips. Instead the majority is dominated by dance tracks that if anything else, make it almost hard to not join in dancing with every other person in the club. Furthermore, the music here forces you to actually attempt dancing, rather than the tried and tested male philosophy in the US of “Being the Pole” in which one merely has to stand within arms distance of a woman and let her do the work. In fact, after numerous attempts, I discovered the total negative opinion Australian’s have of “American Dancing”. Challenge – try to make an Australian woman “grind” with you to a song, you’d swear you had just asked her to have sex with you on the dance floor the way they react and run from such invitations, not to mention the other looks this dancing garners from everyone else in the bar.

 International women just “get it”. From fashion to conversations there is no question in my mind that foreign women, primarily South American, European and Australian women to name a few, ooze an aura of confidence, and self respect that is unrivaled by their USA counterparts. No matter the size, shape or color of them, in meeting and interacting with many foreign women, from many backgrounds, never did I sense insecurities that seem so rampant in America. I don’t know if it is the culture, one that embraces beauty and sexuality almost inadvertently by not acknowledging examples of it as much, but the women in this part of the world simply carry an heir of inner peace and comfort with themselves that I have not seen in the states. They are aware and accept who & what they are physically and emotionally and it transfers into making them not only so much more inviting to converse with but also highlights their superior confidence ultimately making them just that more attractive.  

 Every company in service & hospitality in America needs to have Sir Richard Branson do their hiring. I’m sitting in Brisbane airport as we speak, in the Virgin Blue terminal, owned by Branson, the music, media and flight mogul and I couldn’t look any direction across the circular concourse without seeing a beautiful woman in a khaki skirt and red top. This is not a freak occurrence, I have flown Virgin Blue airlines all over this continent and all of my teammates and friends would agree, Virgin must either a) Pay off the right people to circumvent the fair hiring acts which exclude looks as a determining factor, or b) own and operate their own personal factory in which they continuously crank out tall, gorgeous women to man their kiosks and aisles. Either way, I am not arguing and only wish more American Airlines would get on board with this hiring tactic. On a more serious note, Virgin does do a magnificent job in creating an aura of pride and esteem that working for them entails, from advertising campaigns to plane paint jobs, Branson has infused the rebel edge that helped him succeed in music into his airlines culture, and this probably accounting for why they receive such overwhelming amounts of “Qualified” applicants that they do. Kudos to you sir!

 There are 22 millions residents in Australia. There are probably at least another 1 million international visitors on extended visas living, traveling and working in the continent, generating excess revenue for the Australian economy in the millions annually. In every city, not only the larger metropolis’s, there is a plethora of backpacker accommodation, entertainment, and activity catering specifically towards the younger world traveler. It is no surprise that so many from all over the world flock to this massive island to make there own adventures. America does not have any such network. We don’t have the “welcoming” appeal to younger travelers to encourage them to come to the states to vacation, nor do we allow them to work temporarily with any sense of relative ease. But with affordable domestic airfare, bus lines and train services, and our natural advantage of size and economic prosperity (until recently) America already has the connectivity and network to become a very successful and attractive travel destination for this demographic of world traveler. In the hundreds of travelers I have acquainted, nearly ever one of them wants to go travel America, but the restrictions and obstacles, prices and lack of warmth by our government makes them turn to much easier, and more accessible nations such as Australia or South America consequently costing the American tourism industry millions of dollars every year.

 These are merely a few ideas and observations. Of course, all are my opinion, but then again, this is my blog. Disagree? Leave a comment! 

Forks

Why are life-altering decisions so difficult? Why is there always pro’s on both sides of the fence. Golden Gooses to the right, doors of opportunity to the left, and we seemingly always find our self stuck in the middle. A friend told me “They are what make life interesting.” Clever terminology to masquerade the mind wrenching, heart wracking and inner soul excavation that is constantly required to make sure we are on course, or at least, convince ourselves that we are.

My cousin walked down the aisle of his first marriage to the Cure’s “Should I stay or should I go?” – ultimately, he went – but the title is consistently proving itself appropriate for my current scenarios across the Australian Continent. On one side I have adventure, youth, inhibition and absolute freedom and personal independence. On the other, I have the love of family & friends, the access to hobbies and interests, which are non existent here, a strong network of support and pleasure from those close to me and much broader and applicable career opportunities.  And the line separating these two paths, only an umpteen thousand-mile body of water we affectionately refer to as the Pacific.

There are no exports in these choices, nothing you can take with you apart from the experiences and the memories. There is no cake and eating it to in this hypothetical café of life. Whichever way I go, I win, but in multiple ways I also lose. I feel like a politician, wanting so hard to make peace and amends with everyone, appease all those I care for, and satisfy all urges, but alas, such is life! Someone, or something always must be sacrificed, the constant opportunity costs of existence forfeited in the idealistic pursuit of happiness. Albeit if it is only in a majority more akin to America’s current political divide.

I have a habit of seeking advice and consult wherever applicable. I take what those close to me have to say very seriously, maybe too much. And what I’ve found from constant opinion mining is that eventually you step back and realize, everyone’s is different, and only one, at the center, really stands out as the one you must employ. Your own. Friends in America would “Kill” to be in my position in Australia, friends in Australia “drool” over the prospects of living in the states and having access to the lifestyle, which I take for, granted, much as we all do eventually. Every story in life has two sides, multiple viewpoints and different angles from which to approach and yet ultimately, it is always the author him or herself who makes the say on which way the tale winds.

Restlessness is a constantly occurring hindrance in my life. Not only does the grass continuously seem a shade greener beyond the fence, but also from my pasture, in today’s increasingly accessible world, I can see hundreds of potential destinations. Do I really have to pick just one? I seriously hope not.

I’ve read many texts, articles, watched videos, attended lectures, and consulted countless friends and acquaintances and amongst them all there truly only exists one common denominator of decision making. It’s not the mind. It’s deep inside each of us and as long as we breathe, it pulls the strings of our emotions, sways our thoughts, our decisions and when it doesn’t get what it wants, what you want, It makes little qualms in disrupting the status quo.  Use the heart to find peace, fulfillment and fun, then employ the mind to make the most of the “pasture” you settle in.

Furthermore, we will never know unless we try. I have long exercised this mantra in many aspects, from travel to sport, from love to heartbreak, we must put ourselves through the strainer, no matter how intimidating, risk littered, or uncertain the outcome may be. Like many mid twenties adults, particularly in today’s far from welcoming economic climate, we must employ such a strategy to hopefully find our selective “callings”.  With job security a relic of the past, and the concept of Employability – maintain and increasing your value as an asset to the company – now dictating the global workplace, many like myself struggle to settle in. But with each new experience, and thought, I am beginning to believe the term “settle” may warrant excommunication from my vocabulary.  

Live for the moment, we hear. Treat each day as if it is your last. Life is lived in the now. The cliché’s and mantras surrounding the philosophy can stretch across continents. Yet, every day, we find them so hard to follow, to implement, to invest faith in and tell ourselves, reassuringly that yes, everything will workout. That we will be ok at the end of the day. I struggle with this as much as the next person. Some might argue that my visions & expectations are too lofty for right now, that I can’t expect to attain such items without scrapping together a living on the ground floor first. And while this is true, I see life as a city, one with many tall towers. Although I have stepped in many and looked around, admired those inside, those entering and leaving, I still have not found the one in which I want to climb. But I will, and we all will. We can only hope to recognize it when we do enter.

Our paths and plans can never appear as clear, feel as right, or been seen as advantageously except through our own eyes, via our own hearts. The decisions we must subject ourselves to, the sacrifices we must fling into the fire and the hardships of dealing with such decisions while maintaining faith that they were in the right is a process that shows no mercy or reprieve on the human spirit. But the lens through which we see this process can be corrected, focused and filtered to develop a sense of appreciation for it. For these processes and deliberations are what make our scripts, and forge our frontiers. Each of us is different, and there is but one thing within all of us that we should consult and listen to in every time of thought or reservation. And when you really think about it, without such forks, could life really be as interesting? Nope. 

Linguistic Soup

Linguistic soup. That’s how I can describe the current language casserole I am enveloped in whilst living in a hostel with seven international roommates.  Germans speaking to Germans, Brazilians to Americans, Dutch to Japanese and vice versa in every other imaginable combination. Every day, with every conversation comes a foreign language lesson, not the type from high school, but content with real world application, such as being able to tell somebody to “Shut up, I’m trying to sleep!” in six different languages. It’s constant entertainment to go along with a little foreign education in the language arts.

Being around so many different tongues & accents really allows one to make effective notes of how select languages are structured comparably to one another. The French have a incredible ability to transition syllables into words, words into sentences and package it all in a subtle, eloquent oratory tone that gives the impression that they are hardly saying anything at all. The Germans, with pronounced syllables, and sharp, cutting differentiations in tone & volume and between words, have by far the hardest, most audibly imposing language. The South Americans, whether speaking Espanola or Portuguese are vivid in body language and linking their emotion to their phrases and words, and generally deliver the happiest most free spirited speech examples. Lastly the Japanese, with sincere and constant respect and modesty in even the most trivial conversation are brief and to the point and seem almost rushed to deliver their respective say so as to allow them to get back to listening as soon as possible.

The traveling backpacker life is a Petri dish of cultural and vocal collision. It forces each involved to make considerable attempt to learn and adopt ways of others. The ability to communicate effectively between persons in this environment takes on a much more basic and primitive style, as hand gestures, body language and facial expression are thrust back into primary focus in the efforts to convey meaning and intent effectively amongst various backgrounds. The act of conversing itself develops much greater life than we typically experience speaking with others of the same language. When you eliminate the benefit of understanding definitions of words, all involved must use any means and tactic possible to translate and educate those across the table from them and it makes for many interesting, often hilarious and enjoyable interactions.

As an American, I am very fortunate to have English as my primary language. Or It can be said that I have it easy. As every fellow traveler, no matter his or her background or country, has had at least moderately extensive training in English. The downside to this as an American who speaks very basic Spanish and French is that you almost feel guilty to constantly force others of other cultures to wrack their brains and minds to dictate and translate their thoughts and opinions into your spoken word when you can not even say more than “Hi” in their language. I hope to use this humbling experience as motivation to further expand my language learning in the future.

Another angle of this lifestyle is the similarity and commonality you find amongst all your fellow travelers. When we are sequestered in our homelands, surrounded by so many of the same, it is easy to develop opinions and thoughts of how different persons from these far way lands must be. Appearance, culture, strengths and weaknesses all are issues we rule on without every really knowing the truths, apart from previous direct experience, through travel or relations. But as someone who has experienced such things, when you are in a Australian bar, with a German, Brazilian, Englishmen, Frenchmen and Japanese, and you are all looking for women, the simplicity and scary identical tendencies and traits you all share quickly surface and it is comically obvious how we really are so much the same in the grand scheme of things. The same follows in sports, politics, music and hobby, as we all have the same reasoning and inspiration, with only the specific acts and focuses themselves differing due to exposure and culture.

I am very happy to have been able to experience such a cornucopia of linguistic expression throughout my travels. I love the variations in personality that each language exhibits. I love the interactions & communicable creativity that speaking different languages encourage and demand in order to establish understanding across the language barrier. And I love how underneath the frills and façades that language creates the true selves of people are always existent and easily comprehended. 

Life in Byron Bay

At the moment I live in a small surf town on the eastern most point of the Australian mainland. Byron Bay only boasts eight thousand registered residents yet see’s a daily influx of fifty thousand visitors from every walk of life. The town itself only consists of a handful of roads, and consequently these all remain packed shoulder to shoulder with pedestrian traffic during all hours of the day. The town is vibrant, even in the rain, which there is more than enough of. Classy boutiques, flash restaurants, boisterous pubs and clubs and countless art and photography galleries adorn the sidewalks. It’s a full sized city shrunk and vacuum wrapped in a pint-sized portion, perfect for the weekend escape or a daily reprieve for weary road warriors making their way up and down the eastern coast.

Living in a hostel/backpackers for the past three weeks has been an experience in itself. It is not my first hostel experience, nor do I think it will be my last. But the unique thing in being in one of these places is the constant flow of friends and acquaintances you meet and say goodbye to with every new day. It’s fun for many reasons as there is always a new crowd, with new energy and personality to make even the early weeknights entertaining. It’s also slightly frustrating as all too often you meet some really interesting, intellectual and simply fun people who you are disappointed to see leave so soon, such is life!

Europeans dominate the backpacking scene. At least in Australia. Of the thirty plus roommates I have had since being here, at least half have been German, another quarter English/Scottish/Irish with the odd Brazilian, Argentinean and one fellow American. With such a eclectic and revolving door of ethnicity and nationality coming and going, the conversations and debates I am witness to and partake in cover the entire spectrum of topics and tone. From government to culture, from overall national happiness to poverty and back, with each new face comes with it a story, and it is quite enlightening and informative to be able to hear of such experience.

It is particularly interesting to collect and gather opinions on America & Americans from these fellow travelers. The largest response I have found through conversation is that I am “Not like so many fellow Americans” who the words “Loud”, “Dumb”, “Arrogant” and “Fake” are very often associated with. Now, I do attempt to defend my fellow kind with the world, but it is hard to do so effectively when so often here the majority of my compatriots spend their time intoxicated and unruly. My theory behind this is that most Americans who travel here, are either a) studying abroad, usually in Sydney & Melbourne, and by being in Byron Bay, or any other small coastal town, one can assume that they are on break, or vacation, and that this party behavior should be forgiven, as we have all been guilty of such demonstration at some point in our lives. B) Are merely on vacation, in which again, the key focus is fun and relaxation, both of which happen to be complimentary emotions to alcoholic consumption, and it can only be expected to bear witness to unusually high amounts of aforementioned behavior.

As for my own observations, I have found the average world traveler to be much more independent and self motivated than the Americans I have encountered. Most all-international backpackers have come alone, and found ways to interact, belong and create & foster new relationships and networks. Most are all very educated, albeit younger than myself, typically ranging from 20-24. They do not party as much as one would expect, and hardly abuse alcohol or inflict any long-term strain on their bodies through sleep deprivation or substance abuse. Yet, a ridiculous percentage smoke, most rolling their own cigarettes as this is the most economically efficient way to survive on a shoe string budget when back packing. If there were three things that I could say everyone in the world shares a most mutual affection for, they would be Coca Cola, Cigarettes, and McDonalds. I intend to purchase stock in all three when my income is sufficient.

Another admirable quality I have noticed from the European and most international travelers are their ability to interact and befriend total strangers. All have been friendly, but also all have been very eager to introduce themselves, learn about one another and establish hour-long relationships as if they had known one another for years. It’s a fun and welcoming atmosphere to be a part of and as I said earlier, the influx of new information and experience you absorb from one another provides constant entertainment and education.

When the sun shines in Byron it is one of the finest beaches in the world. Being voted as high as third, in best world beaches in recent years, thousands scatter themselves amongst the sand and surf every chance they get, subjecting themselves to the merciless and microwave-like ultra violet rays the continent is known for. Sadly one in two men develop skin cancer during their lives here, and because of this, SPF 70+ is the only way to go, and you still tan! And the women here, there are no words to describe what I bear witness to every day; one can only visit for themselves.

The rain here is not rain, it is a monsoon. Coming and going almost in minute intervals, a thunderstorm in Byron can dump buckets of water on your head on the shortest imaginable notice. Days are routinely spent shuffling from the sand, to under balconies and back as tourists and locals alike dodge the weather as it morphs and winds in roller coaster fashion. On one night alone this week the rain was so intense that it doubled the total monthly average in only a matter of hours. My laundry hanging on the line took days to dry. At times the water can be refreshing and calming, but as I am discovering, after continual days of downpour, even the most spirited, enthusiastic individuals struggle to maintain such energetic personas.  Chalk it up to being spoiled in the Los Angeles sun for eighteen years of life.

My experience thus far in Byron has been great. I have met and interacted with countless new friends and global acquaintances, I have laid on amazing beaches, swam in some of the most beautiful surf in the world and have been able to do so while still staying in tune with the “outside” world, friends and family. It is a town that is deserved of a visit by anyone in this country and it’s vibrant life and bustling feel, though touristy, constantly keeps the city entertaining and alive. Although long term I doubt if I can stay in such a secluded paradise, I wake up refreshed and enjoyable every morning here and will never forget many of the experiences these past weeks have brought, the friends I have made, and the beaches & accompanying scenery I have been privy to. Byron Bay, worth a look. 

Lead Like A Rock Star!

It is not out of place for one to use the term ‘Genius’ when describing a musician. More specifically, when pertaining to the greats, the legends and icons that dominate the charts and concert scenes for not only years, but also decades. The skill and talent to ‘Create’ is something that cannot be quantified or even defined accurately. It is a phenomenon, and product of untold amounts of cerebral capability that mesh and mold together in such a way, at such a time that enables the metamorphosis of new ideas through the medium of sound; in this instance, new music. However the wizardry does not cease at the point of inception for musicians. The great artists know how to deliver these new sounds, they know their audience – most of the time – and understand their specific wants and needs anticipated, even expected out of their new creations. You see musicians of the most spectacular variety are more than creators. They are also brilliant in marketing, the presentation and conveyance of their work to the audience. They know how to connect with fans, the same as a business connects and inspires its employees. Musicians absorb and understand feedback through sales, downloads, concerts booked, and it would be naive to believe none of these factors contribute to future musical creation. They know how to create a brand. From KISS – arguably the greatest ‘Marketeers’ ever – to Lady Gaga, to Foo Fighters, all have carved out a niche in the music scene and captured the following of untold amounts of fans, all finding what they want and seek through the selected artists of their choosing. What I am asking here is to compare the musician, the band, to a business and maybe ones leaders in commercialism might be so lucky as to learn a thing or two.

Last year I attended a concert by the band Rise Against in Sydney, Australia. Five thousand people packed a venue designed for three, or so it seemed. The energy and intensity of the band propelled fans towards the stage, we were packed in tighter than Kim Kardashian’s carry on.  For hours we flew through a gauntlet of emotion, changing with each song, every musical shift, change of tone and lighting display. Yet every one in the crowd was “Into it.” From lip-syncing, to mosh pitting, to dancing, even crowd surfing everyone found a different and creative way to buy into what the band was selling. We were definitely drinking the cool aid, and it was good. At the conclusion, we filed out, totally exasperated and spent, shirts soaked with sweat – most not our own – shoes worn from the abuse, and hearts still amped even if our bodies could not longer keep pace. I believe most would of agreed that it was a great show, and the majority would probably do it again if the option were to present itself.  Others probably returned home to rave about the experience, to spread the gospel and recruit new fans, and through unintentional salesmanship, sell more records/downloads and grow the following further.

This type of occurrence and behavior happens at concerts in every venue, in every identifiable genre of music.  Although the fans at a pop concert might not have much in common with the hardcore’s of a metal show they are both paying the price of admission to buy into and enjoy what their favorite artists are providing them with. A Reggae show crowd might be more mellow, more ‘Cloudy’ and carefree, but to understand why one merely has to turn their attention to the conductors, the artists. Aint dat right mann?  The same goes to explain why a mob at a punk show will look like a swarm of bee’s who just had their hive drop kicked, and again, I urge you to look at the artist, the people in charge. I’m willing to bet they appear like the wildest bee’s of all.

Artists are also geniuses in creating a culture that people want to belong too and thrive in. They create this culture and vision through their products and services, their music, and the images it portrays, how they present it to the market. They make their fans WANT to buy in. The fans are desperate to belong and be a part of something, something that comes across as larger than life, or themselves at the least. Musicians are very good at gauging what it is their followers want from their music. They understand the experience that is expected when people draw from their wallets to attend the bands shows. And, like a business, they are constantly having to update, change, and shift tactics and culture to maintain passion and diffuse disinterest amongst the fans, or the employees in this instance. They are so popular and successful because of the die-hards who not only like, but also love to listen to them. They attract these avid followers, these people willing to drive countless miles, stand in line for hours – days even – and buy merchandise time and time again, because they are incredible at constantly creating and reinventing a culture and environment that is addictive, that people can’t help but want to belong too.

Just as there is a band and type of music for every person in this world, the same can theoretically be said for business. The same motives and reasons that make me prefer Metallica to Beyonce’ are the same motives and reasons that make me admire Apple over Dell. I would love to work for Apple, as most young graduates would these days. The reason lies in the culture they have created, one built on innovation, leadership and pioneering vision. It simply is appealing and masterfully precise in striking the perfect chord within the targeted audience. Young aspiring employees in this instance. Consequently Apple continuously has their “Pick of the litter” with every hiring cycle, attracting the brightest and best, not only from America, but the world. In music, it is the style, the ideas and the presentation that turns us from casual listeners to fans. It is the lyrics, but also how they are sung, screamed, whispered or shrieked that really sells the experience. 

To those who lead in business, the brightest minds, those who carry the executive titles and acknowledgements, I propose that a great deal can be learnt from their musical counterparts in terms of attracting and leading employees. Just as Apple has skyrocketed to the pinnacle of the personal computing and innovation world, Jay-Z has successfully done the same, as well as countless other master musicians. And why? Because they know how to craft and mold their own style. Styles that are unique, new and independent of clichés and stereotypes borrowed from others. This ability in turn helps make them so appealing to their listeners, their fans. Fans want to be unique, different, and passionate. They worship originality and would give an arm to be part of it. Employees in their businesses want the same, to stand out, to forge their own trail and name through their companies actions. Through their music, their videos, concerts, interviews and appearances musicians not only maintain but also accentuate an image and culture that cannot help but to be infectious to the followers. They know it works, the sales numbers and income streams never lie. Those who wish to lead in business must take note. Strive to create uniqueness, a leadership style and swagger that comes from the heart and soul of what exactly it is that you do, from the core competencies, the precise things you do better than anyone else and know it. Create a culture that builds upon the unique and special capabilities that created your business in the first place. Go even deeper, back to the point of inception, the nucleus your form is built upon. Look to your people, the lifeblood of the company, your fans, those willing to sacrifice untold amounts for the good of the business. Just as Mick Jagger can convince a sea of fans to illuminate the night sky with Zippo’s, You too, through knowing and connecting with your people, satisfying the wants and needs they look for in your business, can create a movement, pioneer change and inspire passion. You too can be brilliant, but as with every 'Hit', it always begins with the fans. 

A Black Card From Tokyo

You are at a fork. Your business has stalled. Multiple ideas, options, methods, and suggestions have fallen short of their promises and you don't quite know where to turn for a solution. You've made good hires. You have brought in creative minds, intelligent people, of the finest educational outlets. Your business has proven success by not only being viable, but innovative, value adding and of enviable quality by industry competitors. You are a smaller firm, personable, adaptable and consumer focused. You have driven out niche's which you have mined and exploited in the past, and very well -- and very profitably -- if you might say so. You pride yourself on customer retention, brand loyalty, lasting good impressions, but perhaps wonder why growth in this area has declined in recent time. You might question why your market share has dropped, competitors have caught up, some surpassing your expectations and past success levels. The markets  may have turned, the economic outlook of today is not that of yesteryear's. The consumer is changing and so too must your platform, your strategy. It is either that or risk being left behind and the inevitable plunge to becoming obsolete. And so you sit disgruntled, in your office, perhaps late one evening with your crack staff, your top people, and you ponder and wrack your minds together. Maybe you do so over a informal drink -- Perhaps some scotch whisky a top customer sent you for Christmas last year, and you grind your molars on what it is going to take to re-establish your company as an industry leader, and NOW. Your group is baffled, exhausted, depleted. The wells of creativity and cauldrons of inspiration now lie dry and cold. Is it our product? Our marketing? Our organizational structure? the areas of blame are many and varied and worst of all shrouded in mystery. You simply don't know what your next move should be. 

Suddenly, you remember meeting a man on a flight from Tokyo to Los Angeles last year. He was younger and immaculately dressed. With him he carried the air of a fellow many years and many experiences more aged than he. He was bright, confident, self assured, articulate and pleasing in his conversation. He was a likable man, one who you enjoyed speaking with, and one who would be very hard to forget. For a few hours you shared a sincere, and informative conversation about your business;  You discussed such personal topics as the philosophies and operations you created and employed. He was avidly curious in your endeavors. He commended you on your success, inquired as to the methods and practices that earned you such accomplished reward in your industry. Of course you were proud and happy to explain your ingenuity, the grit and sandpaper you poured into the effort to forge your brand, stake your claim. He listened intently, analyzed and studied what you had to share, never interrupting or objecting. His curiosity was inspiring to you, and you found yourself genuinely enjoying this process of boasting and explaining how you had in essence "Did it!". After an hour, maybe more, you finally had exhausted your enthusiasm for yourself. Being polite, with a dash of curiosity yourself, you turned the conversation to himself and his interests. 

The man explained that his profession could not be restricted to one title. He was a jack of all trades of sorts, particularly in the business variety. He found his passions within helping,or as he precluded "Coaching" others. He explained that he had recently been in Tokyo, working with a small technology services start up who is based in San Diego. This company had recently set up a satellite office in Tokyo to launch exploratory efforts into the burgeoning idea of expansion. His business he divulged was to act on a consultant level and coach the executive staff in a multitude of areas, from hiring, to company culture, organization and consumer marketing. He explained he primarily worked with small to medium sized business. He operated his own firm, extremely small and privatized within itself. When I inquired as to what his companies purpose was, he answered seriously, but in a pleasing tone "We specialize in optimizing YOUR great ideas." He re-affirmed this statement by indulging me with further explanation. He spoke of how his true passion in life, since his younger years, was entrepreneurship. He relished the idea of working for ones self, burning your own trail, creating and operating business for yourself, by yourself. Yet he said something he noticed about himself early was that it was not the ideas per se, not the particular products, or services companies created that intrigued him. He was not an inventor. Rather he was obsessed with the transfer of ideas, and eventual products to the market place in a successful manner. He lamented that few things were more frustrating for him to accept and observe, than a great idea wasted, allowed to drift afloat without direction in the stormy seas of the marketplace until eventually, lacking any lighthouse -- Someone or something to correct their course --  this said idea would wreck and die on the unforgiving, rocky, coast of the marketplace. If the product conception was the start, and world recognition and success was the finish, it was the proverbial board game in between that quenched his thirst. He wanted to be a shepherd, someone who had the experience and knowledge to be able to lend a guiding hand, through ideas, suggestion, implementation that could not only maintain a companies flocks health, but guide them to greener pastures. 

Intrigued by him, you decided it possibly wise to use this individual as a sounding board for some thoughts and decisions you were currently debating over regarding your companies direction, and next move(s). He had much to say indeed. Beginning with your hiring philosophy he dissected and displayed your motifs, targets and expectations. He wanted to know exactly who, and why you hired the people you did. He was not vague, he pressed you for details, specifics of who YOUR people are, how they think, their interactions and cooperation. Next he asked about your goals. "Why?" He continually made it a point to stress. Why was it that you were doing what you do? Why did you go into this business? He wanted to believe what you believed and then deduce the processes that made you believe it. And he continued with this forensic worthy examination covering each aspect of your company. Thank goodness this wasn't a puddle jump from LA to SF. He wanted to know organizational structure, and why? He wanted core competencies, comparative advantage, intellectual property, and leadership. He wanted vision, mission, expectations and to all of these, more "Whys". Almost worrisome of what you had locked yourself into with this man you politely asked "Surely, I can not explain everything of what we do and how we do so on this flight alone." He sat back, smiled, took a brief sip of the finest in flight Cabernet, and answered "Of course I know this. But, you see, this is how I work. I learn your company, inside and out, I learn your values, your thinking, your motives and your philosophies. I see on what, how and with who your company is based. I appreciate all that has gone into its creation, the efforts, ideas and ethics that have shaped and forged it's pathways. For I consider it nothing short of bad practice, to advise on a matter which one does not fully comprehend, or understand. In business I have found this very true. For their are countless who may rush to lend an idea, or a suggestion, or a friendly "nudge", and you may find these in books, seminars or television. Yet there are so few who will truly invest themselves in connecting with the lifeblood of a firm, who will and can truly connect and understand what the desired results and end game is for a company and it's creators and employees. This is how I make my success. I become a part of your company, an employee of you. With me comes a very particular set of skills, skills that make me very valuable and informative to a company such as yours. I find my passion and calling in making you better as a leader and innovator. Making your people better as employees, in their commitment and belief in the goals of your business. Making your customers better, through loyalty and retention. I help conceive a myriad of solutions in as many areas, yet all in a very personal, very professional manner. To reference an earlier phrase, I truly aim to be a 'Jack of all trades' when it pertains to helping your great business, become greater." With that he once again relaxed in his seat, took another sip and awaited my response. As intrigued as you were, interested and enamored, you replied with a slightly humorous, light hearted "You seem like a good person to stay in touch with", "You as well" he replied, at the same time swiftly reaching into his wallet and producing a black business card. You in accordance did the same, followed by the complimentary handshake and with that, you both resumed on your way, thirty five thousand feet above the pacific. 

For the remainder of the flight you kept the conversation light. You spoke of mutual interests. You recalled your days as a collegiate athlete, and he did the same. You spoke of unfulfilled aspirations to pursue sport professionally, he attempted to reconcile you with hilarious, albeit crude tales of the harder aspects of playing "Semi-pro", for coincidentally he had attempted the same for a short while following his undergraduate studies, both domestic and internationally. You shared a passion for golf, consequently you also agreed that the game had taken years off of your lives with its tedious demands and mental strains. You told of your travels, you said Europe, he said Latin America, you said China, he said New Zealand. Both agreed that traveling and seeing the world was an experience absolutely necessary to enjoying all the planet has to offer. You spoke of fine restaurants enjoyed, exquisite wines drank, vacation locales explored. You shared with him your recent decision to sell your beloved 2010 Audi A4 for a more luxurious, comfortable BMW, to which he replied "I don't know if I can ever sell my Porsche, it simply fits my lifestyle." And the conversation continued to roam, from your wives, to your children, him still debating the issue with his wife, as they had only been married two years and them "Having much left to do before that step". He asked where you live, and what kept you in the Bay Area for so long, with genuine curiosity. "I always have to be near the ocean" he exclaimed, "It reminds me of limits, gives me an escape" he professed. And with that the pilot came on the address system, advising seat belts be fastened, tray tables stowed, seat backs returned to their full upright position. At the gate you exchanged pleasantries, both of you vowing to keep in touch, and wishing one another luck, "Call me anytime!" he professed, and that was was that. 

Back in your office, reclined in your chair, staring at the ceiling you continued to grind your mental gears, desperately trying to produce solutions to your companies recent queries. Your top people, scattered around the room, bounced ideas, yet with futile sincerity or promise. How and what had changed that landed your beloved business in such dire times? Was it the last marketing campaign that you overpaid for that simply failed to connect with the targeted "Early Adaptors" audience? Had you failed in harnessing the capabilities and creativity of your prized employee acquisitions? Had they become stale on the value and motivations of the company? The source of the  problem(s) were proving more evasive than a White Bronco in Los Angeles in 1994. You had never needed fresh blood to break these stalemates before, your business model and product had always performed, and very well at that. Yet as in everything, with time comes change and at this given moment, exactly what, how or who to change to correct the situation, was proving very difficult, very exhausting. It was taking you away from your core competencies, what you did and do best, the innovating, the creation, the idea birthing. You realized that if it continued to do so, the health and future of your company would be far from sublime. 

But then you remembered, you snapped your legs down from atop the desk, setting your scotch down upon a stack of papers, and briskly slid open the second drawer down. You pushed to the back, and after removing a few pens, a wristwatch and some car brochures, you found a desired stack of business cards, cards gained through acquaintance, from networking. And as you sifted, discarding vague white card after another you saw it, nestled neatly, almost confidently in the back. A solid black card, unmistakable and unlike any of the others, and as you gripped it, withdrawing it from the oak purgatory it had been sentenced too for so long, you wondered if on this card lay a solution, a reprieve and infusion of fresh air and thought your company so desperately desired at this moment. For neatly printed on one side was only a phone number, bright white and contrasting. As you picked up your phone, and began to punch in the number you flipped the card over, dropping it to the desk in front of you. And with the first ring you silently mouthed the name on the front, and then the title, which even of itself was more of a tag line, less about him as it was about you.   

Ryan Lowe

You, Optimized. 

What the heck you figured, the guy was worth a call. 

TED.com

Today a good friend sent me a link to a video from a TED convention (Technology, Entertainment, Design) by hotelier Chip Conley. Chip Conley began purchasing small hotels in his mid twenties and has assembled a collection of over forty, all with unique themes and motifs. He credits his unique philosophy, stemming from Maslow's famous "Hierarchy of needs" pyramid, in aiding him in crafting a business model ultimately based on happiness. Recently, he traveled to Bhutan, the worlds youngest democracy -- only two years old -- to study their one of a kind system for measuring the internal joy, and sheer satisfaction of living amongst their citizens. Where most turn to the cold, emotionless facts of the GDP figures in gauging economic health, Bhutan has set a new standard by concocting a measurable method by which to record and track the pulse of their people, not by taxes, or property, but by satisfaction in life. Conley goes on to explain how it has been this organizational revelation that has enabled him to breathe leadership and life into his Joie De Vivre ( Joy is living ) company that despite being centered in San Francisco -- the heart of the dot com boom & bust -- managed to grow thirty percent when competitors all around him suffered some of the hardest losses in America. He has implemented company wide reforms based on his new satisfaction centered cultural abacus. Yet, it was not only this one particular talk that piqued my interest, but rather the source, TED.com, that really quenched my cranial thirst. 

I had heard of TED before, casually, but never enough so that it would stick securely in my mind. Yet after watching this particular talk, and then another, and another, followed by yet another, it is surely something to be cemented in my mind and routine for many moments to come. Here is a website, void of premiums ( FREE ) that collect and broadcast informative, inspiring and innovative speeches from some of the worlds greatest minds, for all to feast on. TED promotes itself as a non profit organization. Its origins began by hosting two conventions a year, one in Long Beach, one in Palm Springs, and lately has added a third in Oxford, U.K.. At each convening, premier speakers from around the globe descend upon the attendees to share fifteen to twenty minute talks on a collage of topics. There are scientists, ministers, authors, economists, musicians and more. They challenge norms, make extravagant claims -- One of today's speakers argued that we need our ideas to have sex with one another more -- yet do so in eloquent, well prepared, and delivered fashion. The site sorts and filters by genre, topic, emotion, as to ensure almost any visitor can discover a topic of interest. 

Being a self proclaimed non-fiction, "Self-Help" book vagabond, this collection of brilliant minds deciphering and sharing their brilliant, oft-inspiring viewpoints, is tantalizing. The talks are of brief enough nature to not lose or snooze the viewer. The speakers are professionals, more than adept at hooking and intriguing an audience, and all carry the credibility and aura of experience and consequent success. I enjoyed all five particular speeches that I viewed this evening. One by the hotelier, one by a author, another by an economist, an Internet mogul and the last by a minister ( For those who know me and my religious view points, no, that was not a typo ). All shed new light, new angles and new challenges on topics from all corners of life's spectrum. 

I strongly recommend TED.com to anyone with fifteen minutes to spare. The speakers are compelling and educating. You leave with a feeling of refreshment, as if you are showering in wisdom. The stories are varied, the themes equally so, but to have this medium at your command, to access and enjoy the viewpoints and learning's of such accomplished, and distinguished individuals proves more satisfying than any play list, chapter, or sitcom. But of course, you only watch documentaries, right? 

Check it out. It might be worth your while. 

www.ted.com 

Welcome To The Q.L.C

The mid twenties have more ups and downs than Cirque Du Soleil. With every day comes the optimism and hope knowing you have so much life left in front of you. With every night comes the inescapable conscientious whispers, hauntingly reminding you of things left undone, goals not yet met, and the ability to sadistically spin your age into a number that more resembles the decade you were born. This time of life is where we cut our teeth, prove our worth, identify the path on which we wish to embark and fling our inhibitions to the wind. This is where we "Go for it!" It is this moment our professors preached about, our families longed for, and we have dreamt of since the days of "Astronauts, doctors and presidential" aspirations. the moment where we nose dive from the nest and hope we pull up. 

Yet more and more in today's social climate it seems that those of us in this genre are leaving the safety and comfort of our upbringing, educations and family care, with the hesitation and self doubt more resembling a virgin skydiver. Over a volcano. Those who do spring from campus to cubicle quickly are slapped with the realizations of the working world. The allure fades, the truths emerge and the tolls -- mental, physical, emotional -- begin to garnish our bodily wages. The lucky (and few) have expected this, they were trained, prepped and hardened like lacquer. But it is the majority that panic, they initiate the questioning. "Am I happy?" or "Did I make the right choice?",  a naturally programmed mental escape system designed to systematically help us "Punch out." Amidst our struggles we look to our peers, we compete, stack ourselves, and draw comparisons. It doesn't help that this phenomenon has been exponentially enhanced thanks to social networking and communications technologies. "He already has a PhD.  She's an attorney. What about me?" we harp. And lest not believe that these thoughts and sentiments cease at careers. In the scope of one's self evaluation everything is thrown in the pot. Love life, friends, fulfillment, accomplishment, we grind ourselves through the gauntlet. All the while hoping that the answer(s) will lie emboldened and lucid just beyond the next hurdle.  Ladies & gentlemen, I welcome you to the Q.L.C. 

The Quarter Life Crisis is a social plague sweeping through the 20-30 spectrum quicker than Danica Patrick piloting the space shuttle. As quick as today's younger generations have utilized technology and educational advancement to arm themselves, so to have they developed self pressures and standards that are more often than not proving to be overpowering. Today's world harvests and delivers success to our doorsteps in minutes and through every imaginable medium. Consequently so does it with failure, and disappointment too. One great accomplishment is immediately overshadowed by the next. Every minute it seems we can find proof of some sort of success or accolade from a peer. Be it a beaming new career, an engagement to the love of their lives, a flash new car, a vacation to the other side of the globe, even an immutable sense of happiness, this list goes further than Hubble. Because of this trend more young people are burdening themselves with self doubt & disappointment, combining the best of everyone else and placing upon themselves expectations that dictate and often demand immediate answers of "Why haven't you done this? Or that? Because they have." It's a vicious strain of self inflicted suffering and it raises negative questions of how it all came about. 

As children our parents instilled upon us the beautiful sense of unbridled optimism that told us we could grow up to be anything our hearts and minds desired. They wanted to give us every tool in the shed, as many advantages as possible to aid us in our aspiration ascent. The support lines were always open, always encouraging, always nudging us forward in our quest to find and define ourselves. Yet were they too soft? Did they fill the encyclopedias with the best parts and neglect the difficult? Did the part on "Paying your dues." somehow slip out? Or could fault have lied within our education systems? I for one never remember hearing a teacher or professor say that before we became the executive, we'd have to make one hundred cold calls a day and argue in doorways with potential clients, struggle to make due on commission and juggle insurance payments. Were we too sheltered? Too blissfully naive? 

Perhaps it was the options. When you are raised to believe you can be anything you want, it is unavoidable that a halo of divinity is placed upon your chosen path. For the doctor, life will surely be filled with glamorous operating rooms, notoriety and prestige. Never mind the paperwork, pricing, decade of post graduate studies, more paperwork and the rest of the "Grunt work." Should we have been trained and conditioned on what to expect immediately following our studies rather than lured with the end goal? Would the details of our educations taken a stronger root in our minds and hearts had we had greater acceptance and idea of their real world application? It is because of this trend that many of us begin our intended dream careers and quickly find ourselves soured with the reality of the role. We quickly panic, convince ourselves we were wrong and misguided in our aim and take drastic action to jump to the next option on the list, the plan B.  Or are we just too spoiled? Too soft?

Life and happiness within it obviously contains much more than work. What about love? A good friend of mine expressed to me her discontent and worry due to the fact that she was still single at this stage of life, when every day it seemed a friend or colleague of hers was poster-izing their recent relationship success stories for all to see. Why not her? Was there something wrong with her to sentence her to such painful anxiety and singularity ? Was she a cyclops? Have a third arm? In fact, I have spoken with many friends and acquaintances about this issue. It's human nature to want to be loved, and to have someone to love yourself. Furthermore it is also human nature to envy, dare I say be jealous, of an other's happiness when ones self is still searching to find their own? We all are guilty and can any of us truly help it? This behavior is only accelerated in the QLC, when it seems everyone is slipping a ring on an other's finger, announcing a child, celebrating love. Luckily for us, in today's society and with our incredible social technology, we can all be alerted instantaneously on these declarations. Lately for myself I feel as if it is nearly daily that a peer is making one of these. They say when it rains, it pours, and I believe it. For those of us not yet ready to "Settle down", to make a life commitment, or even those who just have not found the right "one", it's only human to wonder why? This is often a very hard, emotional thing to do and to do it without comparison to our peers is even more strenuous. 

How do we escape the clutches of the QLC? Is there a cure-all method to the mid twenties maze? I believe it starts with action. To theorize and ponder is easy. Our minds can create and envision everything this world has to offer. But to implement the plans, to throw ourselves at the coals and start the odyssey to our envisioned climax takes an entirely new, and quite courageous set of skills and behaviors. We are taught that we won't know if we like something until we try it. This must become a staple in our lives. If your life was diagrammed as a foods pyramid, treat this sage advice as vegetables. We must sample, experiment, and wander from the confines of comfort. Each and every one of us possesses but one life, one shot. The great thing about this is our ability to craft and customize every aspect, constantly adding and subtracting substance until we develop the perfect mix. 

With careers, let us do what makes us truly happy, cliche? absolutely. For some, finding this satisfaction may prove daunting and seem lengthy at stages (Cough, cough...) But let us take pride in where we have been, what we already have done, and mobilize these feats and landmarks to guide us further on in our own epics. With love let us prescribe the same. Nibble, sample, embrace variety, for how else does one become a connoisseur without experience? 

Let us reject the impulse to compare. However easy it is today to find someone with something you envy, we mustn't. Instead, look within ourselves and embrace our strengths and experiences that have made us the women and men we are today. Envy is a two way street, and you can best believe that when you are staring, wishfully at what someone may have, chances are more often than not that they are looking right back, yes, at you. Appreciate all you have done to survive this far, be prideful of your accomplishments, for we all have but one critic whose opinion matters, and their identity is of no mystery. 

The QLC does not discriminate. No one skips this stage of life. We all move at our own paces, develop in unique ways and succeed in a myriad of others. No two lives are alike, thus the reason why we should never think they may be. Let us take solace in the fact that we are all of the same design, susceptible to the same emotions, be it elation or sorrow. Let us consult where we want so bad to compete. May we learn of and not long for. Embrace the technologies of our time but yield their ability to influence our self satisfaction. There is a reason we have made it this far and conquered so much. The same reasons will launch us through the rest of our life, like a roller coaster where everyone rides, one that may be scary as hell but in the end damn, what a rush. 

 

Shut up and adapt.

Today I left my physical therapist in worse shape then when I walked in. Physically, nothing had changed in my knee. The same problems were present, pain unaffected, swelling still apparent. Yet, in "feeling out" my knee to see how it had progressed in the past week she was able to deduce through my facial expressions and pain tolerance that something undetected previously remained unsolved within the labyrinth of cartilage, ligaments and bone. "It doesn't feel good" she remarked, hardly helping to put me at ease. A moments later she phoned my doctor, who immediately wrote a referral for an MRI. Great. 

Mentally I walked out dejected, frustrated, and could feel the anger simmering within myself. I could of drop kicked a puppy. In the world of stopping pucks, aside from your eyes, ones knees are arguably the most pivotal parts of the body. Consequently they are subjected to the most intense strain, pressure, twisting and contorting in the midst of play and thus the reason why so many goalies, in every level, suffer knee problems at some stage of their career. I simply have great timing. Being only two months from the end of what had been stated as my last competitive hockey season, I could not of picked a better time or way to potentially bring the curtain down on my hockey career. As I drove I thought about this, what it would mean, and how I could handle coping with such an abrupt halt to a passion I have shared a love affair with for over twenty years. The anger was now at a rolling boil. 

I mashed the gas pedal, ripped the wheel at every turn and stomped the break and clutch with authority. I found a fitting "Angry" track on the stereo and let my emotions continue on their incensed ascent across Canberra. "Couldn't this have waited until September?" I repetitively questioned myself, "Why now?" I demanded. No answer. Temperature still rising, I could sense the distinct need to physically strike something. With no suitable objects in arms reach I compromised and instead settled on the decision to go to the gym to work off some steam. 

While sitting exhausted and irritated, glaring at myself and accompanying bandaged joint in the mirror I noticed a younger guy repairing an adjacent machine bench. Now, I have seen this guy before, I know he works for the gym. He is in his early twenties, broad but hunched shoulders, a blank almost unassuming face always drawn, constantly trekking around the gym floor in a slow but steady demeanor, often examining each piece of equipment akin to a forensics expert. He never looks unhappy or irritated, he simply and methodically conducts his business and moves on to the next task. Yet, it wasn't until I heard him speak and converse with another person that I realized the handicap he lived with. I don't know his hardships, nor have I asked, but I have occasionally found myself in a kind of quiet admiration of his work ethic and persona. He seems happy and acts with purpose, furthermore you can see the pride he infuses with his hands when working on "his" machines. It's something that can very easily slam everything into perspective if one lets it. 

Here I am, throwing a mental protest, letting circumstances out of my control ruin my thoughts and day alike, completely oblivious to the fact that despite my current hiccup of self health, I still have for the most part all the tools, capabilities, freedoms and privileges that so many less fortunate would give so much to possess. Someone like Albert maybe, the "go-to" gym repairman. And yet there he is, smiling, content, fulfilled and productive despite the odds being stacked on him more than a pancake buffet.  For a moment I couldn't help but to be embarrassed.

Fifteen minutes later I left the gym. While walking to my car I noticed a figure emerging from their vehicle. Something was not right, this person, a younger woman, struggled with even closing her door. She fought with her gym bag to get it comfortable on her shoulder, she dropped her water bottle and had to contort herself downwards just to be able to retrieve it. I watched curiously, albeit with concern. As she made her way out of the cars I was able to see exactly what type of circumstance she was met with. A massive bulge in her upper spine, visible despite the jacket draped around her shoulders. Her hip protruded awkwardly out from her torso, legs bent inwards, feet dragging across the asphalt with each step and her shoes marked and worn from such efforts.  Her body was wracked with hardship. Nothing was easy for this woman, nothing. But again, there she was, taking dynamite to the stereotypes and misconceptions people might hold when they see her. Sixty percent of the healthy population alone can't summon themselves to do personal fitness, but this woman, who has had to juggle and survive so much trudged on, gym bag packed, water bottle filled, towel ready, and no one, herself included, was to stop her from getting a workout in. She was there for the exact same reasons we all were. 

Enter embarrassed part deux.  

Climbing back into my van I had to simply sit and think for a moment. As hard as you might think you have it, as unfair as you might feel the chips have fallen against your favor, and as miserable and sulking as you might feel you should be I tell you this, there is ALWAYS someone else in this world who is worse off than yourself. Lest we forget so often, so caught up in our own concerns, our own hardships and well-beings that we neglect to pick our heads up and look around at others. Some might prefer to ignore the problems and obstacles so many of our peers must confront and surmount, this is simple and minute in nature. But what if we challenge that in actually seeing & recognizing these parallel hardships, and instead of blissful ignorance we embrace and admire their courage in these efforts. Will this lead to a greater feeling of perspective and ability to handle difficulty and hardship in our own endeavors? I believe it does. 

It is a plague of human nature to litter ones mind with self pity. We love to play the victim, for obvious reasons. Victims are the center of attention from others. They receive notoriety, care, and compassion, all invaluable traits to our self psyches. And when given a reason, this self induced defense mechanism triggers, creating a realm revolving completely around ones own self interests and status. Today, using my knee as an example, for over an hour I could not tear my mind away from the negative and "Drastic" effects this injury will cast down upon my lifestyle. Every thought a connection of the previous, all of them falling in congruence with self interest. I let it control my emotion, narrow my thoughts, and blind so much else that makes up not only who I am but how I feel. It took my witnessing of someone with their own challenges so much more great than my own, whose minds and moods appearing so much more mature, more content, more joyous, to rouse my conscience and tell myself to "Snap out of it". We love focusing so much on the past, and what HAS happened, particularly to ourselves, that we neglect to plan our future, our next move, our "What now?"

Life ceases for no one. Challenges will always exist. They may take many forms, through many mediums and affect us in many different and unique ways. It is this time when the strongest prove their talents, their abilities to stare difficulty and friction in the face and brush them aside. Adaptability. Of this we are all capable. If we come to doubt ourselves fear not, for we may merely look around at others, for they are always there. Anything we doubt we can do, someone has done. Any time we say we cannot, someone can. Whenever we believe things are at their worst, they aren't and comparatively when we declare something or someone to be at their finest, it should not be looked at as merely optimistic to say that their best is still to come. Although an inconvenience, my injury leaves much to be desired in terms of magnitude and direness. Where earlier I harped on "Why?" and "How?" I should of been asking "What now?" and "How fast?". 

The challenges of life will not define us. What we do about them will. Adapt. 

Sport. It's everywhere you want to be.

I look at sports like my credit card. No, not a hellacious curse of plastic gold ensuring time delayed cringes with each swipe, hear me out! As youngsters we play, we learn, get catered to and educated on the fields of sport to no end. We max out our proverbial limits buying coaching, mentor ship, competitions and skills.We show up on frosty mornings, dressed before we step out of the vehicle with our sole responsibility being to charge head long onto the playing field like a rabid Grey Hound and simply to give it a fair go! This method progresses and continues as our careers do, gradually more is expected, more demanded of us as athletes and eventually as teammates too. Slowly and subtlety the interest kicks in. It's bred through the growing maturity in our passions of the games. Slowly we begin to 'want' to help others succeed, to improve not only ourselves but others 'games' as well, trading secrets and tactics alike for the betterment of all involved.  And with all good things, the end eventually comes, varying in shape or form, and we must hang them up -- Skates in my instance -- and move on to the next stage of our sporting lives, our debt. This debt is when we must give back, settle up our accounts, examine all we have reaped and extracted from the games we love and sit down with our inner athletic advisor and devise a plan to pay it all back, if we can. 

Last week my friend and teammate Sean Scarbrough & myself ran the annual Canberra Knights hockey school for Canberra youth. Wrangling kids like sheep we clawed our way through five tough love days of hockey enlightenment, finally collapsing Friday afternoon exhausted and defeated by relentless youthful exuberance. I'd be lying if I said there was zero fiscal compensation attached to this position but in relation to hours, and headaches, the money hardly made sense. 

Yet, this is our debt as hockey players, our unspoken responsibility as benefactors who have enjoyed countless memories and experiences from the game we've eaten, slept and breathed so devoutly, for so long. Coaching, managing, mentoring, you name it, for this is how we give back to the hockey gods, and in every sport for this matter. Sport is a cycle, a fluid circle of progression and advancement we all must take heed of and recognize and respect. We must not reap the spoils of countless athletic withdrawals and naively forget that it SHOULD be debt we plan on repaying. 

The options are wide and varied for this service. Sport has payment plans for every type of person, custom tailored to even the most demanding of schedules. From a lesson, to a practice, to a conversation, to taking a aspiring athlete to a game, the choices we have as athletes are infinite, and more accessible than wi-fi. For myself, I've been a private goal tending coach for many students for over five years, I've done hockey schools, clinics & camps. And despite occasional spikes in frustration levels, or youth tolerance, these experiences have paid not only monetary dividends through college and a semi-pro career but also and more importantly emotional deposits in my inner vault as well, these which can never be withdrawn.

It is a strong belief of mine that all who can, should. This pertaining to taking up a mentor ship position in their chosen sport. Service towards others is a quality all should aspire to include in their personal skill sets and lives. Sport acts as such a rich source of so much, and for so many in life. The athletic mediums of our upbringings can be traced to the development of many core values and competencies we hold within ourselves. These blend and synergize with one another deep inside each of us to create exactly who we are, not only as individuals, but as teammates, friends, family members, and mentors too.   

One only need to coach one child for one day to get a sense of the impact and magnitudes that your presence and capabilities forge. The connection that is fused is indescribable when you see their hope, potential, and excitement. Most especially when their passions and energies are pointed squarely at you, asking for your help in ushering their advancement in obtaining their athletic goals. 

As it lies today, many current and ex sportsmen & women make countless contributions to mentoring tomorrows athletes. But as in anything good, more is never a bad thing. From my experience I estimate about a fifty percent rate from teammates I have played with who have chosen to begin paying back their athletic debts through coaching and other mentor positions. And while this is good, connecting and inspiring the other fifty percent would do unthinkably great things for sport and its social impacts on our worlds youth. At times it can be frustrating, draining, even stressful working with children. Yet for all the minor headaches and sacrifices required, the rewards and inner fulfillment obtained from giving back, being able to see the positive effects of your efforts, will ultimately make the process completely soul enriching and gratifying in the end. 

Sport is the credit card without limits, spend all you like, take from it everything you need and do so sans regret. For this is a card whose payment plan is riddled with inner reward and its interest rates composed solely of charity towards the passionate athletes of tomorrow. Heck, some organizations might even throw in a t-shirt or vacation for your commitment. Simply remember, the swiping of this proverbial plastic will always be encouraged. 

Facebook Killed The Reunion Star...

What do luxury car rental companies; escort services and suit rental places all share these days? Within each lies an incensed, seething, mutual resentment for "The Book".  Facebook. The online monolith that makes it a daily habit of snatching up millions upon millions of devoted souls to feed its ever sprawling, ever-expanding bandwidth empire.  And why has it targeted these unique business niches?

Facebook has sucked the fun & surprise out of the high school reunion quicker than a Dyson. That’s right, kaput. At least the best parts of these awkward jaunts back in time.

Ten years ago, Chuck, the uncomfortable band geek who never was really seen in sunlight, could pull up to Montego High’s 10 year reunion in a 2000 Corvette – the C5  -- as Chuck would never be a guy to drive the base model, come on! Super glued to his elbow would be Svida, a bomb shell blonde who looked like she had been manufactured in the clean rooms at Intel, and both of them would be dressed to the nine’s in their choice of Versaci, Hugo Boss, Gucci, Prada, and more. Chuck probably in pinstripe, sporting a two button, as three’s aren’t set to return for a couple more years in the fashion world. 

And the classmates, the same social rulers of his youth, the one’s who gnawed on his every flaw, sent the guy home in tears for kicks, built themselves up by blowing the doors off other self esteem’s, would flock, enamored, asphyxiated by this apparent ‘Swan’ story.  They’d have questions but you know our man Chuck would have the answers. He’d worked on this bit for months. An astronaut? Navy Seal? Foreign film star? You name it; Chuck could of pulled it off. The dude rehearsed harder than kid who landed the lead in Slumdog. This was to be our mans long awaited masterpiece. His redemption. 

 This of course before a man by the name of Mark Zuckerberg and his social networking cronies at Facebook went and extinguished the party quicker than a hook and ladder on a trash can fire.

Fictional confession; Chuck still lives in his mothers basement and runs internet scams off e-bay but that’s neither here nor there.

You see, by the time you or me shows up to our reunion -- I prefer social status realignment -- every other plug in the room with a Ethernet connection is going to know our background, employment, marital status, interests, hobbies, favorite quotes, sexual orientation, what we drive, if we are more of a swinger or someone who takes what they can get, our travels, our religious beliefs and twenty two thousand random mind dumps we affectionately classify as “Status Updates”. Sweet.

Just try to pull a fabricated bio over your Internet trolling mate’s heads, I dare you.

Thanks to Facebook you can’t hide from anything anymore. Worse yet, people you absolutely wanted nothing to do with in high school, perhaps despised, can still track you more ferociously than a FedEx parcel. Surprises are extinct, no jack in the box here kids. The fact is that your life, in all its glory is clipped to the laundry line, flowing in the wind more free than Mel Gibson’s groin area in Brave Heart, for all to gander. Ah…technology!

Yet who knows, maybe all this preceding information might help the reunion vibe.  Maybe instead of everyone posturing, doing their best Meryl Streep or Michael Douglas, projecting an aura of success and happiness no matter their current circumstance, maybe we can all show up and simply enjoy one another’s company? Leave the rank and file, self worth competition on the sidelines, talk about the good ol’ days, when we loved few, liked some and despised many. Maybe facebook has made it all a little more “Real”.  Which in itself is another attribute to how disgusting the social networking phenomenon is really becoming. Yeesh.

Facebook is the future; there is no getting around it. Every day it taps into our behaviors, our collective souls, and mining information and reflecting it back in shiny new features we foam at the mouth to ‘add’ to our walls. Yet, for all the good press and praise, and functionality this techno-organic being brings to our 2010 lives, surely it has to have some flaws, and the death of the reunion is one of them!

The cool Chuck stories of old are gone. The curtain has been vaporized and our virtual lives get more hits online than 'Charlie bit my finger!'.  From here you have two options folks. Firstly, you can merge onto to the moral freeway and clean up your act, live healthy, fulfilling, joyous lives that you are proud of. If you aint that kind of guy get wise, upload a Lamborghini to your wall pics, change your relationship status to “Engaged to (insert exotic Russian woman’s name). “ For this of course you must ask the next super model you see on the street for a harmless pic, hugging preferably, and lastly set your employment info to CEO of Chuck Co., international marketing agency.  You see the Chucks still have a chance; it’s merely the game that’s changed! 

Going For Broke...er....Broken?

One trait I have never endorsed as a strength would be my ability of monitoring & consequent preventative action. The section for recommended maintenance somehow was ripped from my text book a long time ago. From the check engine light, to that peculiar smokey smell in the kitchen, from the fraying skate lace to (and most importantly) that tweak in my back/knee/foot/(insert every other body part imaginable). Maybe I'm an optimist, a dreamer, the guy who thinks everything will work itself out, the ice fishermen who thinks a couple cracks are all part of the plan, a guy who puts his head in front of ninety mile an hour pucks, shielded only by a centimeter thick piece of steel, bent already to his nose, and "thinks" "Ah, it's cool". Or maybe I'm blissfully naive. He who believes will achieve, right?

I hate prevention, I despise slow, and for this, lately I am feeling the effects. My body is madder than Christian Bale at the odd greenhorn lighting technician. My current injury report looks like the print out for the Pamplona emergency room. 

This current "Streak" began in April when I effectively asked two tiny muscles in my lower back to hold onto an anvil being dropped of a proverbial cliff in the gym. They bent, but they didn't break. Some mild pain, slight discomfort, a warning to take it easy? Please! Yet for me, this simply translated into a clean bill of health and no cause for concern. I could still make all the motions of my athletic routines so why change? Three days later cut to me on the ice, crumpled like a empty bag of kettle chips, dragging myself off like Tom Hanks on the beach in Saving Private Ryan. The punishment, 3 weeks of intensive electro-therapy, and daily visits to my chiropractor or "Pain Practitioner" who put me through more body contorting, lip chomping, eye popping pain than Henry VIII's dungeon staff. 

Next came what I like to refer to as "Lowe versus beast." My team obliged to a gentle men's challenge from the local under 18's team for a "Friendly" scrimmage to prep them for an upcoming tournament. With the invitation to skate as a forward too delectable to pass up, I patch worked a gear set-up and took a left wing slot. Little did I know the under 18's had a secret weapon likened to Priceline.com's "The Big Deal" chomping at the bit to prove his effectiveness at demolition work, using opponents bodies as his wrecking balls. This Kodiak Grizzly on blades caught me looking the other way late in the game and sent me hurling through the air further than a Red Bull Flugtagger and my right upper rib cage doing its best play-dough impersonation against the merciless boards. For a month now I've cursed this kids name daily through every imaginable basic activity, especially coughing. I tell ya, you never think about what you need your rib cartilage for until its the fleshy equivalent of potato mash. Over a month later and I still walk around convinced if someone were to punch me in the side I would tear up faster than Terrell Owen's defending "His Quarterback". 

My feet have never been right. Maybe it's the fact that they live most their life suctioned into a skate boot tighter than Serena Williams tennis shorts. But lately I've been getting a nagging dull, nothing but annoying pain on both feet's outer edges. Being the online medical professional that I am, I've diagnosed this problem as Cuboid Syndrome. Granted, my accuracy rate is probably more akin to Shaq's free throw percentage, but whose to say I'm wrong? A doctor? Common web knowledge suggests rest, icing, and a chiropractic adjustment known as a Cuboid Whip but in this instance I didn't even have time to flip to the "C's" in the Canberra yellow pages. 

And why? 

Because yesterday in net, doing my thing, which lately seems to resemble a block of Gouda in a mice colony, I felt a slight pop in my right knee on a harmless squat to stand recovery. Up to this point I had survived a few shoves, a couple post-whistle hacks, and a death threat from the AIHL's Kimbo Slice equivalent. But leave it to the harmless skate push to screw the pooch. I finished the game, yet in waking up today I am hobbling worse than Kurt Gibson in 88', after he's downed six rum and cokes. I don't know the diagnosis yet, but the outlook looks about as bright as the US economy at this point. Fantastic. 

The one constant in each of these health calamities has been the recommended prescription of rest. Unfortunately it's a luxury I don't have, or don't want at this point. Maybe that's my issue, and it is probably why I seem to be making it a habit of digging myself a deeper hole than Sammy Sosa at a congressional hearing health-wise as of late. But I can't stop, activity is my drug, and if I can't do something at least mildly athletic each day let's just say I make Courtney Love look straight edge. I'm a fitness junky, maybe it's my vice, but nothing stirs more aggravation and frustration from my core than being restricted by my own means. If my mind is the American Militia, my body is quietly becoming a full fledged Benedict Arnold, or Lebron James? (had to) 

The worst part, the thing that stings most lies in the truth of the signals, the ones that say I need rest, I need to take care of myself, to call the dealer and schedule a service check and of course my blatant lack of will to heed this advice. I've always believed in my ability to beat it, to stay the course, even speed up at times, thinking I can work through it, sweep it under the rug.  This seems to of been about as effective as Clinton trying to hide his cigar Olympics. 

If my body is listening, I'm blasting White Snakes "Give me more time", just until September, please! I've made little secret that this hockey season is my Alamo. I'm Custard and the injury Apache are screaming at me from 360 degrees. I know I've probably neglected the necessary maintenance and service checks every couple thousand saves and I don't doubt that I'll have to pay for the mileage at some point down the road, take it out of my re-sale value. But can't we just push the last pit stop back a bit. Maybe I should of listened to my bodies crew chief and re-fueled fifty laps ago, but the line is so close, wrong or not I am going for it baby, fumes don't fail me now. 

Ring Wanted, inquire within.

Damned if you do, damned if you don't. Lebron James today took one great step for him, and the 362,000 Miami residents he just became neighbors with, and one unforgivable leap from the countless more he leaves weeping and seething in Cleveland. Champagne & Red jerseys illuminated the Cleveland sky Thursday evening as many distraught Cav fans looked to burn away the betrayal. The jerseys that survive undoubtedly will be shuttled from the "Go-to" selections of Ohio wardrobes straight into the "Painting, oil changing, home repair" attire drawer. Dan Gilbert, the owner of the Cavaliers, who saw his franchise grow in estimated value over 100 million dollars since Lebron suited up, didn't just take a couple parting shots at the King, he skewered, shish-kebabbed and powder slapped Lebron & his effort in a no holds barred letter to his fans, scrambling to reverse their chicken little outlook of their teams future sans James. "Betrayal, coward, juvenile" and most scathing "Quitter", all slithered their way into Gilbert's tongue lashing of the Akron native. The incensed owner closed his far from timid mind dump with the declaration that guaranteed, no questions about it, his Cavaliers would bring home a title before the newly spawned three headed hydra of South Beach. You have to appreciate the guys heart. 

Initial reactions see far more people questioning, and berating Jame's decision than backing him on his new home. Six teams courted the guy, and the simple facts of life are that only one team what be left smiling when this was all said and done. More surprising though to me is the fact that the sports networks, analysts and reporters all seem to be joining in this initial frown citing such quotes as "Jordan didn't have to run to Detroit to win a championship" to imply that Lebron was surrendering of sorts, saying he needed help, that it takes more than him to bring home a ring, which of course is priority numero uno to furthering the dudes dynasty. 

And THIS is where I have a issue. Look, the Miami heat just added three NBA Superstars to their lineup. They are automatically a title contender, regardless of the fact that they might have to inflate the remaining two positions on the court to make the financials of this weeks signings fit. Pat Riley aggressively courted and wooed Bosh & James and they obviously picked up what he was laying down. Captain Ahab didn't just bag Moby, he nabbed the whole pod. These three stars just did the very thing that so many for so long have harped on, griped about and stressed in basketball pertaining to star players, they called for help. 

Kobe Bryant did become a better teammate between 08, and last & this years championship. His assists grew, his attitude morphed and a nice addition of a seven foot gangly Spaniard surely didn't hurt either. He needed help. In 08 in bean town it only took the compilation of three ring deprived, starving stars in Allen, Pierce & Garnett to bring home a ring. They needed one another. But now that Lebron, along with Wade & Bosh are ultimately stepping out, waving their theoretical arms above their heads, declaring to all that maybe they can't do it alone, maybe each, with all his godly talents and potential needs a sidekick, or two and that they took the steps to make it happen. Of course this suddenly comes across as atrocious, unfair and incomprehensibly shocking to so many avid NBA followers. These guys knew they would be risking their individual empires, diluting their star power, all for a better chance at hoisting some hardware. I'm sure countless advisors, consultants, and entouragee's warned and pleaded that they should take more green, more lights, more market appeal from the larger cities (Chicago & New York most notably). Yet all three knew what each needed, they put their ego's down for a moment, maybe analyzed the game and saw an eerily emerging trend on the hard court, that it really does take a TEAM these days to obtain the O'Brien. 

I know I know, 3 guys do not a team make. But, this is arguably the strongest core to build from in the league now today. And let's not doubt the architect in Miami, the dude wearing seven rings, Pat. He just juiced three enormous ego's into one arena, how hard can it be to fill out a couple more starters and bench players? 

But back to the message at hand. The one that Bosh, James & Wade just forwarded out to the basketball world this week. That although great, all accomplished, none, alone could achieve what makes their palates water most, a championship, without a little help from their friends. Just ask Wade about a old amigo of his who goes by "The Diesel". I mean it's incredible, three super stars, playing in perhaps the most individually centered professional team sport in the world, admitting that their skill sets, no matter how celebrated or admired, are quite up to snuff to tick all the boxes of the championship check sheet. 

The nucleus is fused. The goal is distinct. The sacrifices surfacing already on street corners, around water coolers, smoldering 23's in trash can fires. James, Bosh & Wade have formed something great. Their ego's might be more cramped than frat guys in a phone booth, but they've accepted it, signed it, and done what so many have known needed to happen but none wanted to accept, that these guys all needed a wing man, er....men? Overnight they've become a title favorite, and they know it. All that's left is 16 postseason wins, all done with the grandest, brightest, flaming bulls eye ever painted on the backs of an NBA lineup. With rivals in LA, Boston, Orlando & more licking their chops to take on this three headed monster and do what so many are already planning, pleading and predicting, the chance to send this store bought dynasty home. No pressure fellas, enjoy the ride, and ignore the vultures.