Month: May 2018

Ducks Fly Together…

I dug out some old pieces that were written over the years and posted on various different forms of media for you guys and for us as well to ensure we are putting as much content up as possible for you guys to read, comment on or take the piss out of the team here at A Mind of Its Own. This just happens to be one of my favourite topics to talk about with people as I somewhat consider myself an expert on this theory having to practice it more than I’d like to admit.

To start out those that know me will have seen it somewhere if you hang around me long enough. I was explaining to a colleague the other day a theory that has helped me out through both my professional and amateur sporting careers. It’s something that has helped me on a day to day basis both on and off the sporting field and holds a lot of merit for those who like me can be short tempered at times.

Let’s not beat around the bush, we all have good days and bad days no matter where we are, on the sporting field, at home or at work. In the office though our patience is often tested sometimes it’s an hourly event. We all have those colleagues who try our patience without even realising it. To explain the theory right we need to go back to the beginning where I was introduced to it.

I got into coaching in my early 20’s and was fortunate enough to work quite closely with someone who has gone on to do bigger and better things than I ever dreamed of. He has done very well for himself on the world stage and can proudly say he’s coached at the top level of the sport Including Commonwealth and Olympic Games. I couldn’t have asked for a better mentor to learn coaching philosophies and how to the get the most out of the athletes I was working with. He also taught me that everything in the sporting arena can translate across into the business world and help me in my professional life. I would often find myself frustrated and getting quite annoyed when results or decisions weren’t going our way or as a team we were performing well below our potential.

In my first year under his tutelage I remember the first lessons he taught me always take notes and observe as much as you can. The second lesson was that you will learn something from everyone you come across and you will mould your coaching style by adapting little bits and pieces from each and every one of them and finally using the biggest weapon you have and that is you. I’ve taken this approach across to the business world particularly when it comes to managing and mentoring staff who report into me.

I was helping out with some national league games doing filming and just getting a feel for what it was like to coach and be involved at the open age level. In the dugout before one game, I remember it like it was yesterday, I looked down at the bench to where his notepad lay open with his notes on the game, plans, plays etc. It was the first time I’d notice it but it wouldn’t be the last. At the top of the page in BIG capital letters was the word DUCK underlined twice. At the time I didn’t think much of it but over time as we progressed through practice matches and training sessions in the build up towards national’s curiosity started to get the better of me and I started to wonder why DUCK made it to the top of his page or the whiteboard before every game.

We were sitting in his office before training one day working on the training schedule for the weeks leading into the tournament whilst discussing formations, playing styles, tactics and all things hockey. Around the walls there were a couple of whiteboards that had drills and training schedules as well as individual athlete programs written up and once again there it was DUCK. It was at that point that I bit the bullet and decided I needed the answers to my questions.

Before answering my questions I was grilled on what I knew about Ducks before he would proceed in telling me anything about what is now known as the DUCK Theory and the premise behind it. So from me to you… Firstly ask yourself what you know about ducks and how you would describe them.

When you think of a duck swimming on the top of the water they are graceful, almost gliding majestically through the water but most of all they appear calm, yet under the water’s surface it’s a different story. Those little flippers are flapping away furiously to propel themselves along evenin the strongest of currents. No matter where you are, what you are doing or whether it be as a coach, player or in your everyday life no matter what is going on we need to remain professional and keep our calm. If we can’t do that then we think of the DUCK calm on the surface and furious below where no one can see.

It wasn’t until my second year coaching that I truly found the value in the duck theory in our first game at nationals there was a critical moment in the game where a decision was made that I feel changed the outcome and quite possibly our final standings in the tournament. I remember our manager at the time asking me to keep my cool which probably made things worse telling me to calm down is not the best way to make me calm or keep my cool. With 5 minutes left in the game down 3-2 with the ascendency we scored the equaliser only to have the umpire rule it to be dangerous and therefore a free hit to the opposition. I remember watching the game tape over and over that night as we planned for game two, thinking to myself that one little mistake made by the umpire had cost my team at minimum a point if not three. It was a goal clear as day any day of the week. I’d tried to speak with the umpire after the game to question the decision only to be told I wasn’t allowed to speak with the officials. That further infuriated me as a coach, I wanted answers, I wanted to understand the reasoning behind the decision most of all I wanted some accountability.

I woke the next day still infuriated over something that was well and truly out of my control and went for a run with the assistant coach in an attempt to clear my head. After doing our recovery session as a team and going through the brief for the day’s game we prepared to head off to the ground. I walked into my room to find a rubber duck, a roll of duct tape and bag of lollies shaped as ducks on my bed. Laughter came from the kitchen as our manager walked in clearly proud of her joking reminder to me that I need to convey calm on the outside even when my blood is boiling away on the inside. To me it was a reminder that I needed to convey professionalism and lead by an example.

How I react on the sidelines has a direct impact on what happens on the field. From that day on even before a game started whether it was a club match or at the representative level, if I was coaching or playing DUCK could always be found somewhere on me. It was always on the top of my notepad, written on a piece of tape stuck to my stick or plastered on the whiteboard in the change rooms.

As someone that quite often suffers from white line fever it has been a good practice in keeping my temper in check on the sporting field as well as keeping the hulk from making appearances in the office when dealing with frustrating, infuriating people who just don’t quite understand. What is it that they say? Shit flows down not up?

Using DUCK at work has saved me countless trips to the bosses office, a lot of time not having to waste energy on people who just don’t listen, understand or even want to understand what it is that you are trying to achieve. It’s also put a halt to endless arguments at home and most of all allowed me to take a breath, look, listen and weigh up the situation before responding allow me to de-escalate what could roll into a full blown Chernobyl. They didn’t nickname me Angry for no reason but since the DUCK i have managed to keep it calm, cool and collected. Well most of the time, sometimes I just get pushed off the edge and unlike the Duck I am somewhat a flightless bird in these rare instances.

I now pass the duck theory on to you all… In times of frustration think what would a DUCK do? and just be more like the DUCK on the water’s surface… Graceful and Elegant! Until next time, Duck, Duck, Goose!

I Feel Naked Without My Cell…

What a week, the world is buzzing, some things happened, A Mind of Its Own added to its staff. Although we are still trying to work out what role he will play in the organisation other than mascot. Perhaps he can start out in the mail room and work his way up. All I know is he’s getting paid more than me. I know how expensive those premium dog biscuits are I see the transaction on my credit card statement when the other half returns to the office.

So we promised you not one, but two posts this week and we joked about throwing in some steak knives and no seriously we are giving you steak knives. We are however sticking to our promise and delivering a second post. Which will come first you ask? We’ll we have no idea it just depends on how quickly they are edited and what the topics are. Hold on to your hats, grab your gin and tonic and settle in for another adventure with the team as we take you on another journey through this wonderful world.

Saturday night in Australia, something that happens every week, Saturday comes after Friday it’s a no brainer and we are pretty sure it’s on some Gregorian calendar not sure who invented it and nor do we have the time and energy to research it for you. If you are interested just type something into google search folks or ask Siri. Back to the blog, it was your typical Saturday night in Aus, the footy was on with all the various codes splashed across free to air and pay tv respectfully. Social media was once again buzzing and we were busy tapping away at a keyboard while sipping on a glass of Pappy Van Winkle. Oh wait that was just a dream we don’t have disposable incomes here to waste on a bottle of whiskey that is double some people’s salary each month.

While we watched the Swans finally get the chocolates on the hallowed turf of the Sydney Cricket Ground after only managing to string together one or two home game wins so far this season. We promised we’d provide statistics if they were available. Back to the point of this blog. While I did the somewhat manly thing for a change and watched the football, millions of women and men, I know there were plenty of blokes watching their dreams disappear across the pond in London, we received several Facebook Messenger messages regarding the fading dreams.

With millions of viewers tuned in, both men and women watched their dreams disappear with the utterance of just two words. For the ladies that watched on in awe it was the realisation that the dark prince, no wait that was Dracula, that the bad boy of British Royal Family had finally been wrangled and was now a married man. The men saw there dreams of marrying a strong, gorgeous lawyer who knows how to keep a secret and stands up for man disappear in an instant. It’s at this moment that we all remind ourselves that even rangas need love.

So with the latest royal wedding in full flight over on channel nine, our team were way too engrossed in the football to even know what was going on. A quick check of social media told us all we needed to know. Rachel Zane married the ginger royal party boy in a large ceremony that wasn’t at Buckingham palace but at some grand church where a bloke spoke for apparently way too long as he gave his gospel style sermon to the Royals. A lot of Aussies got caught up in wedding fever and hosted dinner parties. Let’s be honest folks it was an excuse to have a piss up but that’s ok in our book.

We’ve just been told that the lovely looking lady marrying Prince Party Fanta Pants is not Rachel Zane and she is certainly not a lawyer. Apparently like millions of men across the globe I’ve been living in dreamland and she’s an actress not a lawyer. This young ladies real name is Meghan Markle and oooweee is she remarkable. Que the roll of eyes and bad dad joke abuse from my wife but hey it had to be said and I’m sure I’m not the only writer to find solace in a dad joke about her last name.

So on to the ceremony… Based on the photos on instagram it was a star wars themed wedding? Prince Party Fanta Pants was wearing his best Imperial officers uniform flanked by his loyal storm troopers and Commanding Officer the other brother that no one remembers because he was too well behaved. Dumbo got an invite? Oh no that’s Prince Charles sorry old chap those ears are getting saggy and bigger with age. The imperial officers uniforms look sharp and before we know it Princess Leia is walking down the aisle escorted by Big Ears himself, it’s at this point I start scanning the crowd looking for Noddy and the rest of the gang. Maybe they’re shy but I’m sure they are there.

It looks like hollywood has come to the party, the cast of suits are there too taking up the back, back rows as are the rest of the star wars cast including Chewie, sorry again our mistake it was just Camilla. None of this actually happened at all, if it had, it would have been the wedding of the year and worth actually watching if it did. Instead there was a wardrobe change at some point and they exited the church looking very dapper. Gone was Meghan’s flour sack princess Leia dress now replaced by a lovely white grown. Prince Fanta Pants has also lost his Imperial officers uniform and has found himself a James Bond tuxedo and is looking sharp.

They jump into a vintage car and drive off to live happily every after, after they throw a big party and Lizzy has a few too many glasses of bubbly before begging the DJ to play the Macarena. That actually happened the car, I mean not Lizzy busting our to the Macarena or doing the worm across the dance floor. It was an amazing prototype Jaguar E-Type roadster, we knew it was an open top car but had to do a little research in order to share with you the exact make and model. What amazed us the most about this vintage Jag was that it had been retrofitted with an electric engine and was as quiet as a mouse, not that you would have been able to hear it over the roar of the crowd as Prince Fanta Pants and the newly appointed Duchess of Sussex left the church and headed off to the reception.

There were plenty of key moments throughout the ceremony from watching one of Macaulay Culkin’s kids hold Miss Markle’s’ dress train as she walked down the aisle. The resemblance to the young actor from the hit Home Alone movies was uncanny. To the BBC taking a swipe at Donald Trump. Most of the Royals were there and at the end of the day there was love in the air. The Duchess of Sussex and Prince Fanta Pants were loving throughout the entire ceremony as they held hands and whispered sweet nothings to each other and then there was the kiss the world had been waiting for. The one that would shatter the hopes and dreams of men and women around the world.

Megan (Rachel to most of us men) was now off the market and Harry (Prince Fanta Party Pants also to us blokes) was also spoken for. So as people shed a tear the world over for something that would only ever of happened in their dreams. The Royal Brat come good had finally met the woman of his dreams. Here at A Mind of Its Own we can only look on in awe that we were able to write this piece without watching one snippet of the Royal Love Fest. Instagram pretty much wrote this for us. So from all of us here at A Mind of Its Own we wish Prince Fanta Pants and the Duchess all the happiness in the world and truly do hope they live happily ever after because who doesn’t love a good story about a Prince finding his Princess on the set of a tv show. So until next week we’ve hope you’ve enjoyed the Royal Wedding addition of a Mind of Its own as much as we’ve enjoyed writing it for you. Oh and Lizzy if you are reading this we are sorry about calling Harry, Prince Fanta Pants.

Call Come Running…

Another week, another blog and another point of view from the team here at A Mind of Its Own. Over the last couple of weeks we’ve been fortunate enough that topics have just been falling into our lap as we sit at our desks and put on our thinking caps. It’s not always easy writing about something that will both capture your attention, insight some thought and allow us to have a little laugh as we tap out another blog.

Once we’ve got a topic in mind the piece pretty much writes itself, we pad it out with some statistics when they’re available or a joke or two at ourselves or the topic in which we’ve decided to entertain you with for the week. We try to stick to the point but often as with the title we drift off point and find ourselves on an interesting tangent, that may or may not have anything to with the post for the week. As always stick with us and we’ll get you their in there end even if we have to go around the round about a couple of times.

This week it was our professional athletes that provided us with the inspiration to hammer away at the keys of our retro Amiga 64’s along with a much-needed giggle. So with much further ado, we put on our fashion police badges, donned our best fedoras and shark skin suits to settle in and write this piece in style. We took to watching a lot of sport this week and I have to say it has led us to question the decision-making abilities of our elite sportsmen and women. As armchair coaches it always easy for us to see what they could have done better or question the decisions they make in the heat of the contest. But as fashion conscious armchair police and modern-day males we threw our hands in the air, scratched our heads and just wondered why.

As our analytical minds kicked into gear while watching a plethora of free to air sports, we began wondering how much adrenaline was pumping through the veins of these men and women, when they decided to get the arm sleeve tattoo that a toddler could have drawn better or the ridiculous looking bullseye at the small of their back. Then there’s the questionable haircuts, did they do those themselves because if they paid money for something anyone with a set of clippers could have done, I’d be asking for my money back and quick smart. Do professional athletes feel terrible tattoos make them better? Or is it all that money they are paid to play a sport there forefathers played for free, that makes them make such terrible permanent choices?.

Now don’t get us wrong we aren’t saying tattoos are a bad thing or they are ugly that would be hypocritical in a big way. All we are saying is that the choice of tattoos by some, not all, of our professional athletes is a little concerning. Unlike a bumper sticker which disappears when you finally part ways with your hotted up Datsun 180B you’ve had since you got your license, unless you are willing to sit through a lot of expensive sessions where some lady in a white coat zapps you with lasers that could be used in a science fiction movie to evaporate aliens. Tattoos are for life, so you’d want to hope that what you decide to get inked has a lot of meaning to you and is something you want to keep.

It would be ok if it was just the tattoos but when you go the full package, the word knob comes to mind along with a few others that can’t be said in this forum. Tattoos all over your arms, a moustache that yes I would be proud of if i could grow it and a haircut that wasn’t even popular in the 70’s tell me that you’ve gone too far. Having a nice bright pair of boots, two full sleeve tattoos and shit haircut is not going to make you any better than you already are, how you look has no correlation to how gifted you are in the sporting arena if that were the case we’d be lining up our newborns to get a full sleeve and mullet haircut before they could even tie a pair of shoes let alone master their fine motor skills to kick a ball with pinpoint accuracy.

As we watch the AFL for another week the amount of bad tattoos floating around a single oval televised to the nation has us wondering what was going through a lot of these blokes minds. Flick over to the netball and more silly tattoos. Is it just me or tattoos the norm these days and people without them are the minority? It’s at this point we put in a call to mothers to ask if they’ve attempted to slap any sense into their children. Oh wait you can’t hit kids anymore that abuse no wonder the younger generation has no respect. My mother finally answers the phone after a couple of attempts only to want to talk about every other topic than the reason I called her to discuss whether or not she is happy or annoyed at the ink her son sports.

So with no help from my own mother, i thought about whether we should go out to social media and ask the public before deciding on the fact that it doesn’t really matter whether the public agree with us or not A Mind of Its Own is a platform for us to provoke thought and provide our own two cents to you the readers. It’s at times a living, breathing soapbox. So that being said and done we reach into the big book of Australian politician quotes to borrow one from the Ipswich instigator Pauline herself and ask someone to “Please explain?”.

Bad haircuts, terrible tattoos and poor choices at times leads me to think that perhaps while athletically gifted these men and women aren’t the sharpest tools in the shed. They can slice through a defensive line, look graceful and often majestic on their chosen sporting field but ask them to behave themselves on the drink or get a decent haircut and you may as well head to the local preschool where you would find some level-headed children who don’t know any better but would still make better choices. Talent, a massive paycheck and adorning fans does not give you carte blanche to try to set, start or even suggest fashion trends, advice. As people keep saying to me, stick to what you are good at and leave what you aren’t to the professionals. So that being said and done, we’ll leave fashion, sporting and the majority of tips that can be provided to those in the know and we’ll just stick to writing about it and stirring the proverbial pot.

For the generations of aspiring youngster to come, we hope that you can make some better decisions, if you aspire to be a professional athletes just remember you will be in the limelight your every move will be scrutinised both on and off the field, you will be on television and you will have little kids looking up to you so here’s a thought. Get a decent haircut, ensure your ink is something you really want and will cherish for life and if you find yourself in a compromising situation remember that everyone has a camera phone these days and as much as you think you can trust people there is always someone who will see the personal gain in selling you out.

So for another week, we draw a close to a chapter of A Mind of Its Own, one that has had us in stitches as we analyse and laugh at haircuts, tattoos and some of the best Moustache’s going around. For you though our readers, our dedicated and willing participants, It’s one of those weeks where you’re lucky enough to receive not one but two blogs. If Tim Shaw was still working for Demtel I’m sure he’s throw you in a free set of steak knives. It’s a busy time in the world there is a lot happening. We are entering uncertain times and there is the ever-growing threat of a world once more at war. But every now and them a story comes along and warms our hearts. The second piece for the week is one such story.

So before we say too much, we’ve baited the hook, cast out our line and will leave you to hopefully swallow it, hook, line and sinker and have a read of our second piece this week. So from the Team at A Mind of Its Own, we thank you once again for spending some time with us. Having a read and sharing in our little often weird and wacky world. Until next time! Peace be the journey, cool runnings.

New York State of Mind…

Ever just wake up and wonder what it’s all for? Why life has pointed you on this path? Why your best mates all seem to be doing so much better at life than you do? Well the good news… This isn’t an advertisement for a way to improve what you deem as your shitty life. Chances are as you look at things through your goggles preparing for the super storm that is not going to come and rain on your parade, life may be better than you think.

In this week’s piece we revisit depression and anxiety to discuss how it can take on A Mind of Its Own. Don’t question it, we really did just manage to slip our blog sites title in once again. We aren’t beyond a shameless plug of the little safe haven we’ve created in which all these wonderful blogs can be found for you to read over and over till your heart’s content, your minds numb and your fast asleep in your favourite chair.

So where’s your mental health at? Have you asked yourself lately or has someone asked you? Have you spoken to someone when you’re feeling a little off colour? Have you been to see your doctor? Chances are if you’re male you’ll have answered NO to a lot of these but you’ll have never have asked yourself why your first response was no and was always going to be no. History has played a massive part in why that answer was always going to be a NO. Today’s youth aside the generations gone by have been raised to be tough. Men are told not to cry, not to talk about their feelings.

It’s interesting that the #Metoo campaign gave women who were struggling a platform in which to voice their deepest, darkest moments, fears and concerns about what the male dominated world has done to them and yet as males we still sit back puffing on cigars, sipping whiskey, bottling up our problems while we watch the world go by. Ok that may have been a gross generalisation of how males operate in society but I know from personal experience it’s not too far from the truth.

Whether it be the suffering of a mental health issue or problems at home with a loved one, money troubles, problems at work etc, unless it’s discussing how your favourite sports team performed on the weekend, it’s not something you generally talk about with mates at the pub on the weekend or your office mates around the water cooler on a Monday morning. So what makes it easier for women to communicate in general? Wives across the world would stop nagging to be talked to if there husbands just opened up and talked about their feelings from time to time instead of drinking their worries and pains away down the pub with Tommo and Roachy while staring at the Dapto dogs on the bigscreen.

It has been said that women are more mature in general than men, I’m starting to believe in terms of emotional intelligence this is very true. Perhaps emotionally it’s easier for blokes to just throw up a wall and pretend nothing is wrong. One of the toughest men i will ever meet on this earth and was fortunate enough to be related to told me on his deathbed, the one thing he wished he could of done better was talk things out a little more with family and friends before it got to this point as he had a lot to say.

The more we sit back and let things evolve before intervening the more they spiral out of control and again for what our pride at saying we were tough in our darkest moments and battled through it? Sometimes you it’s more manly to stand up and say enough is enough and know that it’s ok to ask for help. Don’t let your demons, troubles and worries take on a mind of their own. Sometimes we just don’t know where to start but once you start and that weight like the world is on your shoulders, lifts and there is an instant relief.

What is the point of days like R U OK? Or having foundations like Beyond Blue who focus on mental health and that generally of men. Movember over the years have raised money for men’s health each year often focusing on mental health as an issue in which we, yes we being men have neglected all too often over the years and why? Well that’s simple all because a lot of us were brought up idolising tough men and being told that men don’t talk about their thoughts and or feelings. Particularly if you are going through a tough time.

Yes the fear and stigma are still there that people will think you are weird, but remember as a generality, people don’t understand what they don’t know or a willing to understand and learn about. It’s ok to talk and furthermore to seek advice and medical help from professionals. There is no reason to hide anymore, anxiety, depression and even just having a bad day are as common as a cold and something that we can talk about. No we should talk about. Whether that be with a family member, friend, stranger or a professional it’s only going to help you.

From this writer to men and women across the globe don’t let your pride or fear of being judged get in the way of having a conversation that could help you out and change you life for the better. As suffer of anxiety and depression there was a fear I would be judged by my friends and family, yet finally when I found my voice they were nothing but supportive and continue to be supportive.

As an advocate of men’s health, I can only say to you it’s OK, it’s OK to talk, it’s ok to speak out and find your voice. It’s OK to lean on your friends and family in times of need or doubt. We all need someone we can talk and that one conversation could go a long way to putting you on the path to recovery. Women and Men alike around the world could be in the same boat as you and you’d never know.

Ladies and gentlemen it is Ok to speak up and seek some help or just talk about what’s going on in your life. Who knows your loved ones might really appreciate you reaching out to them. Your friends certainly will that’s for sure. To my friends and family I appreciate that you were there for me and encouraged me to seek some help and continue to be there for me in my down days.

To you the readers, this medium helps me more than I let on. The ability to write and put my thoughts and feelings down allows me to manage and maintain my battle with anxiety and depression. So I thank you for the encouragement to continue to write each week and for taking the time out of your busy lives to read each post. To the fanatics (You know who you are) thanks for being faithful to blog and my writing, you make writing this each week all the more worthwhile.

Until next week, take it easy and remember there is always some we can talk to about whatever is going on in our lives.

Just sing like everybody else…

It’s that time of the week again ladies and gentleman, the time where we ask you to take some time, wind down, take some time out of your day, some time to sit back relax and most of all open up a A Mind of Its Own. Read along as we embark on yet another adventure into the wonderful world around us. This week we decided not to venture into the wilderness of unknown mass social gatherings in which we were overwhelmed by the smell of youth and their lack of care over personal hygiene.

I’d love to say we avoided gatherings of youth and poor choices in personal hygiene but alas we did not. In fact compared to where we ended up this weekend our adventures into the world of cosplay and pop culture masses were much more hygienic and less potent on the old nostrils. By now you’re thinking where on Earth did they end up and what did they end up doing? Well the west is about an hour West of the iconic Byron Bay in the little well-known town of Nimbin.

As we drove into town the mental image I had in my head of Bob Marley looking white folk was shattered. Driving through the main street was enough to have me start winding up the windows and locking the doors let alone get out of the vehicle. So we did just that like all good journalist chasing a story in war zone. Ok Nimbin isn’t quite downtown Fallujah. The team and I left the safety and comfort of our vehicle. I must say I was surprised that upon exiting the car that I didn’t receive a contact high from all the Ganja burning being smoked by locals but I honestly could not smell any pot. Yep Nimbin that’s two strikes, you disappointed me once again.

Walking along the main street of Nimbin, ironically Cullen street, surely no relation to any stoner relatives I may or may not have from yesteryear, a couple of things started to occur to me. Firstly everything I had heard about Nimbin was proving to be utterly false and secondly there was probably more ice addicts roaming the streets then the lovable, happy-go-lucky pot smokers. What was going on? It was like watching an episode of Sydney Weekender with Mike Whitney walking around a place that no one would ever want to go.

Midway down the main street it finally hit me that somewhat pungent yet sweet smell (Queue questions from parents and family members on how I know what it smells like. That’s a story for another day but I grew up in Canberra remember where there are 3 things biggest industries are… Weed, Fireworks and the biggest porn trade in Australia, thanks pollies you guys are hypocritically great!)

The highlight of our little walk down the main street proved to be the fire pit next to the pop up medical dispensary that had some scantily clad youths who like, the fire looked a little baked. Ok so there were some stoners still about and they did not disappoint at they swayed to the non-existent mellow tunes playing. One gentleman rapped his way through a crowd of people clearly still feeling the effects of whatever it was that he had decided was good for his system that morning.

Back to that hygiene issue, if we thought pop culture conventions were smelly Nimbin was taking it to a whole new level. I was starting to wonder if plumbing had made its way to into the town. The smell of BO was so overpowering in some parts it overpowered the smell of reefer in the air. Again I was on the hunt for some air freshener or hemp based deodorant, hell I would have been happy to sponsor the whole town as long as they took a shower in a can and regularly used it.

So besides Bob Marley what was it that I was expecting to see in Nimbin? Oh yeah that’s right pot I was expecting to see some Marijuana somewhere or at least a hash cookie or two, heck in a pot brownie would have made my day. The closest we came was the hemp store selling anything you could almost think of made from yep you guessed it hemp. I was tempted by the floppy hemp hats however the idea of this little excursion that just so happened to be by accident was to get an insight to the hinterlands iconic happy town of Nimbin.

The more I think about the more I think I expected Nimbin to be a fun, happy little town, well it was looking quite run down and there were more than one or two people who looked a little sketchy and like they’d be quite happy to mug me for my cash or lack thereof in my wallet.

So no hats were purchased, not cookies, brownies or any other foods containing the sticky icky but we did do a lot of people watching. Feeling unsafe and constantly checking our pockets for personal items Nimbin had made its way onto the list of places we wouldn’t be coming back to anytime soon. We would miss the signs stating how weed was the people’s drug of choice while the government preferred alcohol and tobacco. Yeah we giggled a little at the politically charged billboard.

Here i was thinking this was a haven for people to live an alternative lifestyle, a place where the police turned a blind eye to the use of illegal narcotics. Maybe in the main street but get 10-15 kilometers out-of-town either side and Nimbin was hemmed in by Random Breath Testing (RBT) and drug testing. Smart play by the popo but word was starting to get around town about their shady tactics on a Monday.

After grabbing a coffee and running to back to the car as fast as our feet could carry us, the car was barely in gear before the wheels were spinning and we were racing out of there. Note to any would be bank robbers looking for a getaway car, the Mitsubishi mirage is not the car for you! Whilst it handles the corners quite well it does not have the zip of many other small cars available on the market.

The conversation in the car as we wound our way towards freedom, fresh air and a much-needed warm shower (Pretty sure I kept smelling my own armpits to ensure it wasn’t me that had smelt) turned to the legalisation of narcotics and whether legalising certain substances would stop people turning to ice, meth and heroin or whether it would create further issues for our law enforcement professionals. Legalisation of Marijuana for medical purposes we can see a point to, there is science to back up the claims particularly when coupled with cancer treatments and the like.

Legalisation of other drugs we aren’t so sure on, it may stop a lot of organised crime but it would also cause headaches for law enforcement and medical staff having to pump stomachs of those who overindulged or become heavily addicted. The only upside would be the quality of substance once being controlled and administered through federal pharmacies.

Whichever side you fall on in that debate is ok, people are entitled to their opinions and here at A Mind of Its Own, we hold no judgement. All we can say is there are pros and cons for both sides of the argument and if you’re reading along at home all we can suggest is don’t do them, you never know what’s in them or where they have come from. Not that you asked for our opinion.

So until next week we wish you a safe week, be cool, stay in school and don’t do drugs. If you have to, don’t do them in Nimbin and always make sure you are around friends who will look after you. Be safe folks!

Of all the gin joints in the world…

Another day, another dollar, well for this writer another dollar in the coffers of the multimillion dollar company I work for while I take home my meager salary that barely covers my wife and I for a month. The money men at the top take home there five figure salaries and world continues to spin but I digress the aim of A Mind of its own is not to be a platform for this writer to voice his woe is me moments but to make the readers aware of what’s going on in the world.

So where do we start you ask yourself and on what great topic will the team be enlightening us with this week? Well that’s a great question as we struggled for days on end to come up with a topic that will touch the hearts and minds of our readers. Then it came to us like a smelly fart on the wind. Well it was more a suggestion from this writers old man. In order to write this weeks blog I was going to have to step out of my comfort zone, well maybe not step out so much as step up and own my often geeky ways.

With much trepidation I jumped in the rental KIA carnival of death with my old man and headed off to the Gold Coast to gather some much needed content for this weeks piece. Now ladies and gentleman, I used to think I was a bit of geek, the cool kind who plays video games, reads comics and watches all the movie adaptations yet still likes sports and manly things like beer, guns and boobs. But as I learnt last weekend I am far from a geek let alone remotely geeky in today’s modern society.

So let me paint the picture of the land that I had just walked into. Everywhere my eyes looked they took in a world unknown to them. Men, Women and Children dressed up as tv, movie, comic book, video game, manga, wrestling, you name a character someone was no doubt dressed up as it. As I ventured deeper and deeper into the den of what i had by now dubbed the festival of freaks and geeks, i felt my IQ growing and a sudden love for dungeon and dragons. Maybe it was all the colourful costumes or perhaps it was seeing grown men living out the lives of their idols and heroes but I actually felt smarter.

The growing world of cosplay was all around me and here I was the odd one out for several reasons. Firstly no one had told me it was a dress up party and here I was in baggy pants and a tee shirt. Secondly I was wearing deodorant and wasn’t smelling like a high school gym after year 8 physical education class unlike many of my fellow event goers and thirdly which was probably the most surprising, my old man knew more people than I did. That had never happened to me before and we were in my Knick of the woods not his. Was my Dad more popular than then me?

We weren’t even through the main doors and yet my education had already began. Like a hyper colour explosion pop culture and its faithful surrounded me. There were some amazing costumes and some not so amazing. People had gathered from galaxies far, far away well as far as I’m concerned Logan and Ipswich often produce people from other planets. Yes Pauline I’m referring to you and I know you don’t like it.

I had peeled back the curtain and dared to sneak a look into a world of unknown. Like the first time your mates take you to a club of sin, I was filled with excitement and trepidation. What if I someone recognises me? What if my Dad posts we are here on Facebook? Dammit too late for that one, we haven’t even been here for two minutes and he’s checked us in. The Dalek is out of the Tardis on that one.So with no further risks of embarrassment I dove deeper and deeper into the throngs of fanboys and girls.

There were rows upon rows of fanfare and paraphernalia mixed in with some C and B grade celebrities with 100s of people lining up to grab a photo and autograph that’ll be worth something amongst these people in years to come. Let’s be honest they were more like D grade celebrities, I’d never heard of half these people let alone watched the shows they were from. I strolled past some authors and artist trying to hawk their wares. Listed in on a talk or two about fight scenes in video games and movies. And more than likely starred for way too long at some of the people squeezing through the throng of people gathered.

Now deep in the dungeon I found myself standing in front of what looked like a third world armoury bazaar shop in some third world country. Gleaming fake swords, mock guns and hammers made of foam hung from the ceiling of the store. If I was preparing for a fake zombie apocalypse this where I would come to arm myself to the teeth. I passed several other medieval fake blacksmiths and even an armoured heaven. The guys sitting there didn’t look very heavenly nor did the look like they had much to sell to masses. They did however look like they were decked out for a serious round of laser tag.

Forty minutes later I was done, my eyes hurt from gawking, my jaw from letting it hit the floor and my feet from having to dance around people to keep moving down the aisles. I was left with more questions than when I started, an expensive signed comic print and desperate need for air that hadn’t been contaminated by body odour. I was also starting to think of a career in marketing as ranges of pop cultured themed deodorants swam through my mind.

So what did I learn this week? Supanova, Comic-Con and many other pop culture conventions bring out people from all walks of life. The people that used to be referred to as the freaks and geeks now seem to be the norm and teenagers haven’t discovered the wonders of deodorant. Cosplay has hit Australia in a big way and is here to stay and my dad will always know people at these events than I ever will.

My first adventure to the dark side has left me wondering and wanting to ask more. What I can safely say is that everyone needs to at least go and check out a pop culture convention once in there lives. There is something for everyone and it was more than a little surprising. So for another week it’s over and out. We dare you to go where no man or woman has gone before…