Tag: thinking

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.

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!

Where the Wild things are…

It’s that time of week again! That time you put your worries aside, put your feet up, grab your laptop or tablet and a bottle or glass of your favourite poison (Our’s is Whiskey in case any of our readers were thinking of gifts) before settling back in your favourite chair and reading through this week’s installment of A Mind of its Own. This week we’ve come home wrapped our hands around a cold frothy or two and explored our own backyard in order to write this wonderful piece.

Australia, home to some of the worlds most unique flora and fauna. It has one of the world’s most eclectic collection of animals known to man. As Australian’s we are pretty proud of our often odd and unique fauna so much so that our coat of arms, our money and even some of our sporting teams mascots and tv characters are based on the wonderful creatures that walk, swim and fly this fine land. So what does the most majestic of Australian birds and the most requested tattoo of Schoolies 2017 have in common besides being a great idea for this weeks blog?

Glad you asked! Besides being the drunken regret of many teenagers who now have this majestic bird branded on their bodies (remember kids, tattoos are for life! Unless you get them lasered off, i hear it’s painful though). The two have very little in common other than looking quite silly but if you’re going to be branded with something I suppose it’s better being a bird than a swastika or other ridiculous idea for a tattoo.

The 2017, Bird of the Year became from behind, beating out the Cassowary, Willy Wag Tail and a couple of other birds no one really gives a toss about to claim the title. The People had spoken and made their choice. The Australian White Ibis (Garbagius Birdius) or Bin Chicken as it is more commonly known has taken the crown and been named Australian Bird of the Year for twenty seventeen. We have been unable to get a comment as to whether they’ll be flapping up to the feeding trough and defending their title this year.

With it’s recent bout of fame and taking a beloved place in today’s society as it scabs through bins and eats out of the gutters. This walking, flying, squawking trash disposal can be found anywhere there is human waste. Parks, garbage tips and loading docks are some of their favoured territories as they spread their wings in the search of new delicacies left over by their human overloads.

This rubbish raptor has become the inland seagull of Australia. Keen to steal your hot chips, harass your small children and make an absolute pest of themselves they’ve maneuvered their way into the hearts and minds of today’s youth. If we are honest they aren’t the most attractive bird with their hooked beaks, scaly black long legs and white feathers they remind me of every Collingwood supporter I’ve ever met. Maybe it’s the black and white or maybe it’s just the lack of teeth and charisma. But either way this Rubbish Turkey has made a name and place for itself in today’s pop culture.

It did get us wondering why someone hadn’t capitalised and created a stick figure Ibis to join your family on the back window of your car. What is it about these birds that has Australia so enamoured with them? Is it there carefree no fucks given attitude as they pick at our scraps in the streets? Or there battler spirit that has them eating out of bins as degradation to their natural environments has forced them to adapt and overcome.

Like the Marines of the skies these birds have adapted and overcome. Once wading in shallow water and eating crustaceans they now find themselves perched on the lids of bins and like the homeless of the skies ready to go dumpster diving for their next meal. These birds now find themselves in amongst the concrete jungles fighting the homeless for scraps outside fast food joints.

This once revered bird in times gone by has managed to earn itself a bad bird title, developing a reputation for being disgusting, destructive, noisy and often dirty. With their inability to keep their feathers a clean crisp white this rubbish warrior has taken it upon itself to find new homes and a new source of food. There are many names for this modern-day survivor but it will forever be known as the Bin Chicken. What it’s rise to fame doesn’t tells us is this bird is one of only a few who has managed to adapt and overcome the destruction of it’s natural, native habit to continue surviving.

Next time you see one of these majestic birds pecking at your lawn or local sporting ground, eating out of the gutter or bin or chasing people for their hot chips just remember we turned them into the Bin Chicken we love and often fear today. As we expanded into their habitats and took over the waterways they relied on for feeding.

So to the Bin Chicken, Trash Chooks, Trash Turkey, Rubbish Raptor, Winged Rubbish Bin, Flying Trash Disposal, Dumpster Diver, we here at A Mind of its Own salute you! A true battler and a true Aussie icon that has managed to adapt and continue its existence despite the continued threat to your natural habitat. If you can’t beat em join em they say and that’s what you’ve done, traded water for rubbish.

While we joke and jest at this bird with a bad reputation and strange habit for eating rubbish, there is an important message to be taken from this weeks post. What you do has an impact, for every action there is a reaction and whilst we didn’t exactly cause the Dumpster Diver that is the Bin Chicken our ancestors certainly did and what we do in this life will have an impact on what our children and their children will see or in some cases not be able to see as it no longer exists. Do the right thing….

Over and out for another week, we hope you’ve found this blog insightful and educational. Till next week enjoy the journey.

Set Phasers to Stun…

Born in the driver’s seat of a Toyota Prius stuck in the usual Monday to Friday chaos that is the M1 motorway on my way up to the plastic beach scene that is the Gold Coast, this week’s instalment of A Mind of its Own was born out of pure hilarity thanks to the young man driving in front of me who clearly thought he was hot stuff in his fluro workwear and cheap petrol station sunnies.

So much can be said about the youth of today, so much so that I won’t even get started but this morning I saw a bumper sticker that pretty much pulled all of my thoughts about the youth of today, to front of mind and made me want to fashion a knife out of the McDonald’s straw on the floor to stab myself in the eyes so I didn’t have to read the downright stupidity plastered all over the P platers car stopped in front of me at the lights.

Clearly trying to make up for his lack of ability to lure in a suitable mate, the primate sitting in his Ute, window down, it was raining mind you, mullet flowing gloriously down the back of his neck and a tattoo sleeve that no artist would be proud to say was there work. Had more stickers plastered over the tailgate of his 1998 Holden Commodore than a children’s sticker book. Safe to say if you had a kid you wouldn’t not want them to understand the vulgarity of half the things stuck to the chipping paint job of the young tradesman’s vehicle.

So despite his distinguished appearance and classy manners as he turned spitting all over the car next to him, this charmer was clearly a hit with the ladies. Some of the best and no doubt classiest pick up lines in this kids vocabulary had to of come from his choice of cheap bumper stickers. With classics like ‘No Fat chicks, my ride will drag” to “Fat chicks, shoot em don’t root em” I started to wonder what this classy member of our societies parents were like and whether he had an ounce of ability to say something to woman that wasn’t sexiest, chauvinistic or bigoted.

Here at A Mind of its Own we try not to judge people on their appearance or choice of bumper stickers however the kid wasn’t doing himself any favours. From vulgar statements through to stickers of women in compromising positions with no clothes on and the creme de la creme of stickers plastered on his back window ‘No Root, No ride’ I’d be questioning any parents judgement letting their daughter step into this pillar of societies vehicle. I mean if he had one of those stick families sure I might think twice but there wasn’t even stick figures trying to procreate. If the MeToo campaign wanted a poster child of what young men should not be like this kids car wasn’t doing him any favours.

Watching him release the clutch, put his foot to the floor and grind through his gears while he sped off, I started to think about bumper stickers and what possesses people to plaster them on their precious vehicles. Thankfully not everyone’s choice’s are vulgar or disturbing but I still question whether they are a waste of money. Stick families, baby on board, my other car, these stickers aren’t handed out or found as freebies in magazines so what possesses people to fork out their hard-earned cash to ensure the people behind them receive a benign message they may, or may not remember five minutes down the road.

That being said the man or woman who came up with the idea to place a sticker on the back of a motor vehicle and saw the opportunity to milk the masses for a couple of bucks here or there was an absolute genius! Writing that I do feel that perhaps we also aren’t the sharpest tools in the shed if we aren’t seeing its a waste of money. I’d love to say it’s just the P platers but I know many an adult who has bought a sticker to draw attention to their automobile over the years.

Yes we know you just got a BMW it has its own badges to tell me what it is you don’t need to go and get the performance works sticker on the back so it looks like you’ve gone for the upgrade. Oh you have a baby on board? Why are you doing 120 in an 80 zone than love? Stickers, stickers, stickers and more contradictions than the King James Version of the bible. My favourite is the advertisement that a child goes to a private school I NEVER would have guessed by the type of vehicle you are driving and you never see those on a Ute they are usually emblazoned on the back of BMW, Audi, Volvo, Land Rovers or other high-end motor vehicles.

The choices are outstanding and every petrol station from here to Timbuktu stocks them. The Yanks love them, the Europeans all have them and us Aussies well if we are from the country you can bet we’ll at least have an R.M Williams sticker somewhere on the car as well as one advertising their local pub and no doubt something degrading towards women or people who are attracted to the other sex. Either way it’s all very redneck once our country folk get involved. The options when it comes to picking what to adorn your vehicle with are endless.

So bumper stickers, big waste of time and money? We’ll leave it for the public to decide one thing we have worked out though if you are trying to make a good impression make sure your bumper stickers and stick family aren’t involved in lude, rude or crude behaviour, there is a time and place for that and plastered all over your car isn’t going to help you. Like a chapter of how to win friends and influence people we’ll give you this advice for free. Life is like a box of chocolates and no one like the Turkish delights no matter how much they tell you they do.

Over and out till next week’s insightful chapter of A Mind of its own…

Slowdance on the inside…

Welcome to another installment of A Mind of its Own. This week we thought we’d throw on the whites head down the oval via a trip to the painting isle at Bunnings and rough up a few cricket balls before rolling the arm over to send down a barrage of half volleys, laughs and insights about the world around us.

It’s been the second biggest thing to hit the news in recent weeks only to be surpassed by the shambles of the Commonwealth Games opening ceremony that left us wondering how long it would be, before the woman responsible for Arsegate would be releasing a book titled My Crack, the story of the games unhidden shame.

Three men, one piece of sandpaper, a roughed up cricket ball and the scandal of the nation. Not since the infamous John Hopoate Incident in 2001 has a nation’s sporting world been rocked so heavily. There’s been the odd breach of the NRL’s salary cap (A new year another team) or the new round of AFL naked selfies but nothing that has brought a great sporting nation like ours to a halt like this has since John reached up and fingered several of his opponents anus’s.

As I sit in the office dual screens in front of me researching cricket’s current events it occurs to me that we need to just relax. What? I am relaxed you think to yourself and who is this guy to tell me to relax? I’m not talking about you the reader sitting there sipping your latte on a Wednesday morning while scrolling through our blog on the latest and greatest tablet or smartphone. I’m talking about society in general.

We place our heroes on pedestals like infallible gods only to become extremely enraged and upset with them when they make a mistake. Sports men and women seem to cop it just as much as anyone else. The only good thing to come out of the recent cricketing scandal is Bunnings profit margin for the first quarter of the year. In the last month alone sales of sandpaper have gone through the roof and the average age of customers has lowered by 20 odd years. But no on a serious note, why do we feel these people, yes they are people like you and me whether they be athletes, celebrities, the kid who walks your dog or your mum and dad aren’t capable of making monumental mistakes?

Have we become that much of a politically correct society that anything deemed questionable should come with a warning label stating you will be judged and looked down on for all eternity should you proceed. We all love social media but has anyone here read George Orwell’s classic 1984? Well yeah it’s happening people, no matter what you do, where you are, big brother is always watching. Except in our case big brother just happens to be every man and his dog with a smartphone.

I feel for parents these days, it must be tough, your child can be an absolute arsehole and you can’t even give them a little smack to bring them into line without the fear of being branded with the child abuse tag, whilst they continue to runaround terrorising the neighbourhood. Anyways bringing things back on track…

In the case of our cricketers it just so happened to be a curious cameraman trying to confirm whether rumours of Cameron Bancroft’s nickname Donkey were true or not. I’m still questioning why he lingered so long on Cam’s crotch and apparently so is his wife. So our captain does the right thing and falls on the sword, he takes his VC along with him and the perpetrator of the whole event just so happens to get less time in exile than both of them.

Maybe it just that we (Society) thought our cricketers, not all just our Australian team were above such acts. We are Australia we don’t need to cheat, we have some of the best players in the world. I mean we know our league boys like to pee into their own mouths and defecate in pot plants or pretend to have sex with dogs and cause a downright ruckuss. While our AFL boys just like the marching powder a little too much and try swimming across the Swan river in an attempt to escape the police and the union guys well they are just private school pest who haven’t grown up. But our cricketers no they are saints, they are the good boys of aussie sport, they don’t have guys who try to set records for the most amount of beers drank on a flight between Australia and England or drug test that come back positive for banned substances. No they are the darlings of Australian sport…

No they are not, if you’ve read some of the books published by former cricketing greats they were just as bad as everyone else. They had fun, they were successful and we loved them for it. The difference being back then we loved a jokester and we enjoyed the on and off field antics of our sportsmen. Nowadays they need to be setting a good example for the kids who sit glued to their ipads or phones from the time they come out of the womb. As they are so impressionable. Put down the bloody technology, go outside and use your damn imagination to come up with something to do.

The facts of the matter are that scandals, like gossip around the water cooler at lunchtime spreads like wildfire. For those in media it also helps to sell news. We make a mountain out of a molehill because it sells papers or in this case sandpaper. Nobody’s infallible, we all make mistakes, we all do things that can be deemed questionable, the difference is we are not in spotlight for the entirety of our professional lives like our athletes. Most people learn from their mistakes and take the second chances they are given with both hands. In the case of some of the Rugby League players they are quite slow at learning that a second chance is a gift don’t be stupid. One concussion too many could be blamed but then again do we really think they are the smartest people?.

As for our three cricketers in exile on the Northern Beaches of NSW in their million dollar plus mansions. They now have plenty of time to lay on the beach counting their cash, while they think about what they have done. I for one wouldn’t mind being put in that naughty corner. Only time will tell whether it has been a valuable lesson for these three lads and whether the Australian community wish to bring them in from the wilderness. One thing is for sure we won’t be winning a lot of games over the next 12 months and Cricket Australia will have every sandpaper company knocking on their door with offers of endorsements.

Australia is no stranger to a sporting scandal from fingers up bums to salary cap cheats to sleeping with your teammates wife. It’s safe to say that when it comes to sport it doesn’t matter who you are or where you come from. At some point the elation, excitement and thrill that comes from winning could drive you to do something stupid just to get that rush, that feeling one more time. As Australian’s we might feel we often dominate on the field but we are all susceptible to one thing. Being human and being human we will all make mistakes at some point in our lives..

I must have been sleeping for a lot of the last few years, sport has eradicated the larrikins, hollywood has outed the perverted and the politicians just keep racking up the frequent flyer points on the way to see there lovers and somewhere along the way the Emily seabomb became a term of endearment amongst friends or a joke by the northern territory tourism office to bring in unsuspecting travellers to the crocodile infested waters of Darwin.

So to all those aspiring athletes out there, don’t do anything stupid around anyone with a phone, camera or any piece of technology and if you need to put yourself on a social media ban in case you are inclined to say something, or do something that may upset someone because we all know someone will get offend in our modern PC Society. Actually if i was a professional athlete my advice would be unless you are competing just stay at home and become a hermit. People can’t even go to the shops in their ugg boots anymore without someone scoffing and judging them or getting upset at the sheep that was slaughtered for your feet to be comfortable warm.

In some ways living in a politically correct society is inspiring and refreshing. The LGBT and I am sure I am missing some letters in their community can now legally marry. Campaigns like MeeToo are empowering women to speak out about sexually harassment and assualt, R U Ok empowers all of us who are struggling to speak and yet we all feel we need to judge and look down on not only those in the spotlight but those around us who do something wrong. We don’t even try to understand why or let them explain we just come down on them like a ton of bricks.

Until next time, be good, be nice and try to be a little less judgemental of our overpaid athletes 😉 Thanks for reading, The team at A Mind of its Own…

Travelling Man in the back of a van…

Ok so there is no van, no car, no trains only planes in this edition of A mind of its own… In this week’s installment we discuss life on the road as I travel for work. You’ll get to see the confusion, boredom and often harrowing events many people experience who have to travel for work on a daily, weekly or monthly basis. The costs involved and the time it often takes to get from one place to another despite using air travel to get there.

So where to and why you ask? Good bloody question not sure how I drew the short straw in the work pool of resources who could travel. Well I actually have a fairly good idea when the bosses in the ivory tower ask questions like, Do you have kids? A dog or cat? Anything that would preclude you from travelling once a month? And my answer is no,while my mind is thinking yeah my lack of will and pay. It’s almost as though they just handover the short straw with cheshire cat grins strewn across their faces. As to where that would be our Nation’s capital and the city of churches for starters.

Two visually stunning landscapes steeped in European design and architecture but lacking in terms of things to do once the working day has finished and are about as interesting as a documentary on watching paint dry. So we’ll start with Canberra, before any of you get upset, I spent a lot of time growing up there so I am entitled to my opinion when i say it was a lot more fun when you could buy fireworks without a license, porn was on sale on every corner and the politicians were all over each other like a rampant Red faced Barnaby Joyce.

To start with unless you are flying from Sydney or Melbourne there are no and I mean no direct flights unless you have your own private jet, which unfortunately this aspiring writer has not managed to finish his book let alone sell a copy of it although, I have at least a couple of sales confirmed thanks to the family and close friends I’ve instructed to buy it whether its any good or not. They can always use is as a doorstop or the old regift come Christmas time. Now back to A mind of its own and our work travel segment.

For a Northern Rivers resident the fact that travel means I am on the same time zone each day that I am away is a complete thrill, heading into a different time zone just to head back to the time zone you came from is quite a funny experience. When you leave for the gym at 6am and arrive there at 5:30am it has people going hah?? And then there are the times your wife asks you what time you need to be at the airport for your trip and then finishes her sentence with “Our time or Qld time” it can often feel like you are in a time warp.

The good thing about flying out of Coolangatta or the Gold Coast Airport as it is better known during daylight savings is the hour up my sleeve. 6:00am flight, sure no problems I’ll actually be at the airport at 6am despite the fact that I’ve already been awake for 2 odd hours and it’s 7am literally a 5 minute drive down the road while my plane is taxiing down the runaway. It gets confusing, trust me on that one.

I am one of those people who likes to be early, I hate being late and I hate having to rush, a complete control freak when it’s my time. It often frustrates my wife as I rush her out of the house so we aren’t late to events or work. I think it started as a kid as my mother is always late and it frustrates the hell out of me. So arriving at the airport with plenty of time allows me to get a coffee and browse all the shops but let’s be honest Gold Coast airport does not have a great variety of stores to peruse while waiting for your early morning flight. What it does have though is a heap of tables and chairs which makes it ideal for someone like me who can use the time to work on their book or write the next installment of their blog.

Getting on the plane is always like playing a game of Russian roulette, will I or won’t I get a spare seat next to me, will they move me to an exit row? Will the person beside me leave me in peace to stream inflight entertainment or will that chat away incessantly for the duration of the flight not realising that I am not paying attention and in some cases have drifted off from boredom over hearing how they’ve adopted there tenth cat named Whiskers.

Or will i end up between two people who’s lack of thought for hygiene creates a fear of hippies and a want to provide the world with organic deodorant at prices so low you could barter for it with a leaf. I wouldn’t be the first traveller to have this fear and if I could afford it i’d be sitting myself up front clinking complimentary champagne with all the pollies instead of being stuck in cattle class with Arthur and Martha who run the local commune out the back of Byron Bay and haven’t showered since the revolution in the 70’s.

Sometimes I get my wish and I’m left to watch reruns of some tv show whilst snacking on my complimentary biscuit and water as we make our way towards Sydney or left to read the latest installment by Cussler, Clancy, Flynn, McNab or Ryan from my large selection of paperbacks waiting for a bookshelf at home that I have been to lazy to go out and buy.

The ride itself is mostly smooth as the gravity defying tin cans rattle through the sky at close to 1000 km per hour but when the weather hits it’s like being on a roller coaster at Movie World as the taste of your last meal hits the back of your throat and you frantically reach for the barf bag only to realise they haven’t replaced them. Then that awkward moment hits, your brain catches up to your body and you realise you have two options…

Either you become that awkward passenger that vomits everywhere or you swallow. For me dignity will always win over pride. Time to suck it up princess and swallow your own spew. I would love to say that i have never had to do this but sadly I have and as I sat there waiting for my flight back to Brisbane to leave the runaway swallowing my stomachs own fireball concoction somewhere in the skies over NSW someone I know was suffering the same fate.

I’ve often questioned if heaven is real and the more time I spend at airport I start to feel it might be. Not being remotely religious I imagine that waiting to get into the pearly gates is a lot like waiting an hour or two and in some cases a whole day for your connecting flight. The patient people are allowed access and the frustrated and infuriated people who are anxious to get home or to wherever they are going are denied access and sent below to the fiery depths of hell or in this case to fly with Tiger Air and take there luck on whether the flight will actually leave or not and if it does will it be on time.

Second flight in and I suffer the same issues, people on planes annoy me… Just take your seat, sit down and be quiet for the duration of the flight. Take a nap, relax but do whatever it is that you need to do not to annoy me as I try to enjoy my trip. Oh and if I could have the window seat that would be greatly appreciated I’m sick of the cabin crew hitting me with the drinks cart as they hurtle down the aisles passing out light snacks with the captain speaking in the background about how long our journey will be and what time he or she will have us disembarking at the gate.

Another thump into the tarmac and we are on the ground. A short taxi later and we’ve arrived at our destination. The wing bridge is moved into place for passengers to disembark through to the terminal. For those that have baggage they head to the carousel and wait, wait, wait and some more waiting for the flashing light to come on and the thing start to spinning around like an appealing ride with bags as obstacles to hurdle. I tend to just stand around watching people, some refreshed as they start their adventure others exhausted from the 40 minute flight.

To the cab line I march with self importance, all suited and booted looking sharp as a tack I must say. Wheelie bag in tow looking like a real professional who knows what he’s doing. Fake it till you make it they say well I guess you could say that’s me in a suit. Having to wear them is not exciting it does not make me feel important or special but I do it as first impressions last. Suits are not the ideal travelling attire just FYI, give me a pair of trackies and a t-shirt anyday.

It’s the cab trips I really love, I’ve always been interested in a Cabbies story particularly our friends from overseas and what brought them to Australia. Dishing out nicknames like Trent and Wok a cab ride can be as fun as you want to make it. A lot of them are quite happy to have a chat and surprisingly my attitude towards conversation is completely different to the one i take when I step onto an airplane. My favourite question of “do you use Uber?” in recent years often sparks an interesting conversation and to my surprise after a little encouragement 90% admit they use Uber rather than grabbing a cab. Why because they don’t have to wait for a random cab driver to drive past or call the cab company and order one only to be told there is a wait and have to call back in 20 minutes and ask where there cab is.

Once at work the fun of meetings begins, I’d love to say it’s all boozy lunches and dinners with clients but sadly it not, usually it’s sitting around in a conference room giving or going through a presentation or sitting in a secure room pouring over documents that you can’t make copies of but can write out by hand if you so choose to. These are usually followed by more meetings and just to add on we have a few more meetings about the meetings.

By the time the day is done we have a little time for going through the million emails that have piled up through the day and returning a few phone calls of the people who have called more than once. A quick flick through instagram to see if anyone has posted anything more interesting than photos of lunch and breakfast and it’s usually out to dinner where if work is paying you know I’m hitting the bar for a few beers.

The hotel, motel, holiday Inn, well thankfully i don’t have to stay at a motel or the holiday Inn. The accommodation or diggs are usually quite good, minimum queen size bed, little desk, fridge and bathroom what more could you want? Foxtel is usually hooked up and if you press your luck you might get work to splash out for a movie or two on your expenses. Very unlikely and rare that happens.

I’d like to say i venture out and see a little more of the Nation’s Capital as it continues to expand out and try and steal more of NSW’s land while I’m visiting but the truth is i tend to stay in my little bubble close to the office where i know an escape to the airport is only a cab ride 10 minutes and a stress relieving walk to beer is just across the road in the hotel bar.

So with the Nation’s Capital all stitched up as a place famous for scandal, penis statues, expensive ugly pieces of art besides its roads, porn, fireworks, politicians and public servants who have more flex time built up than a brick wall it’s on to the city of churches. Another thrilling plane ride dodging conversations and poor hygiene with the men and women who oversee the flights in there bright colours layered on lipstick and often over the top put on smiles. Really who wants to deal with the drunk guy in 3B who asks for a tinny of your best beer and winks like a creep everytime. I can guarantee there is one on every flight.

Founded in… well who really cares when it was founded. As always some stuff happened, the white man went there and treated the indigenous people poorly and a city was formed. Upon landing in Adelaide it feels like it was founded only yesterday. It’s a little backwards and like stepping back in time. I almost feel like i should be climbing out of an old twin prop and hailing down a horse and cart for the long journey into town. Where I’ll walk into my hotel and some child will call me governor and offer to shine my shoes for a penny.

Ok, ok it’s not that bad they have colour TV and all the mod cons and some new looking buildings in amongst all the churches and early european settler design and architecture. There cricket facilities are amazing and there love of Aussie rules is second to that of only Victoria. The mighty Crows and Power can be seen idolised throughout the city. They have an amazing array of homeless people who get up and down the main shopping precinct begging, busking and often running from the law as they nick something from a rack hanging close to the front of a store.

Like Canberra there is a little bar scene popping up with Whiskey bars and microbreweries. The problem is trying to find them, it would seem they are that trendy they don’t have signage or a door on the street. Head down the back alley worrying about whether you’ll be mugged and you just might find on of them. I just can’t help thinking that everything would look so much better with a lick of paint. It reminds me of a big country town whenever i am there.

No matter where i venture the people are friendly and there is always something interesting going on. If there isn’t I am sure I’ll attempt to make it interesting by imparting myself and my knowledge on the people around me whether it’s wanted or not. That’s one of the great things about being in Australia and being able to travel this great land, we meet so many people from all walks of life, who all have their own stories or stories from others they’ve met along their journey through this life.

It’s not the travel that kills me, I actually like flying and have always been amazed by the science and engineering that goes in to lifting those giant birds into the sky and keeping them there. It’s the things to do once my working day has ceased. Part of it is that travelling also throws my routine right out the window. Despite my best intentions of packing running gear, I can never seem to pull myself out of bed when I am away to do anything. It could also have something to do with trying to gain entry into the beer olympics with my coworkers and suffering the effects the next day but that’s a blog in itself.

At the end of the day my favourite part of any trip is the moment those wheels touch down and home is within a short ride home. I love the flexibility of being able to travel but i also love where i live and the person i share that house with. Work travel is good it breaks up the monotony of the Monday to Friday grind.

I can image with children travelling for work would be difficult not only would you be leaving your partner alone to look after the kids but you could also be missing out on key moments of their lives. So for me I’ll get the travel done before they arrive and no we aren’t pregnant I’m just pointing out that it would be and is easier to travel when you don’t have children, young children.

Whilst some weeks its a pain in the backside most of the time it’s easy and provides me with material for my book or this blog in which you can choose to laugh at or ignore my banter in which i poke fun at place and people I’ve met along the way. Until the next blog which i have no idea what it will be about but I’m sure it will have A Mind of it’s Own…

I’ve got music and it makes me feel alright…

Whether it be the dulcet tones of your favourite singer or the long riffs of a guitarist slashing out a solo, music can evoke emotions in all of us we often didn’t know existed. It often starts in the extremities working its way through your body like a wave forming, than crashing on a beach only to be drawn back out by the tide to repeat the cycle. It might start as a tapping of the foot, the clicking of your fingers or the drumming of a nearby object and before you know it the beat and rhythm have wormed their way inside until your whole body has involuntarily joined in and you find yourself sounding like a strangled cat in a back alley somewhere as you sing along at the top of your lungs.

That’s the effect music can have on you!  As I started writing this blog in my mind this morning, ironically I was singing to myself, driving along in the car and it got me thinking about what my first piece should be about on A mind of its Own. With music blaring away, other drivers looking at the crazy guy either talking to himself of singing along it got me think about other people’s reactions to music and how it can lift them in some cases and in others bring a tear to the eye.

Personally I am big on lyrics, I’ll admit a catchy beat is always fun to listen to but lyrics are where I really start to enjoy music. Perhaps it’s the creative element and the aspect of empathy that music allows that I enjoy so much or maybe in some past life I was a famous musician (If i was it certainly didn’t carry into this world). Either way for me music is a tool I utilise most days to help control my anxiety and depression and help me concentrate at work when I’d rather be anywhere but there.

Music plays a bigger part in our day-to-day lives than we often think, for someone like me who thrives on routine, music is a big part of my daily routine. I don’t listen to the radio in the morning on my way to work I put on a playlist and sing along right up to the moment I park the car. In the gym I listen to my own tunes while in the background some high intensity workout song plays for the roid ragers throwing their dumbbells around as they lift more than actually should to get those Hollywood muscles pumped.

I got thinking about how other people utilise music or react to music for example having played sport all my life and thinking about athletes getting ready for the big game or race an image comes to mind of someone sitting there with a pair of Beats by Dr Dre on their head, phone in hand, eyes closed focussing while their foot taps out the beat. Does the music help them focus or does it calm their nerves and what are they listening to? For all i know they could have Britney Spears blasting into their ears. No judgement from me, I used to annoy my teammates by singing Mmmbop while I warmed up before every game but hey it worked for me…

The power of music to evoke feelings and emotions has been utilised throughout time. Motion picture from its inception has utilised music scores to set the scene for the viewer taking it from the big screen to the small screen. Where the utilisation of small instrumentals let you know something scary is about to happen or something fun is around the corner. It didn’t take long for the madmen in marketing to get on board with Brands adopting music, paying royalties to the owners that when heard associated the listener with their product or service.

I was looking at taking a deep dive into the science behind the music. After reading several articles I decided to stop, thinking about how this Blog about music could soon turn into a book if I didn’t draw a line in the sand somewhere. So i’ve chosen to skirt around the science all you need to know is there have been studies. You don’t have to believe me but if you do a google search on Music and Science you will come across thousands of articles and studies on how music affects the mind, body and soul. If I had the time I’d spell it out for you all, however between work, writing this, a novel and playing sport I feel my wife might disown me if I don’t find some time for her in all of that.

That being said there have been studies carried out that show music can cure some forms of insomnia. Shoppers tend to buy more when classical music is playing and certain music helps us work out as we tend to increase our tempo based on the beat and rhythm. The articles and studies went on to explain that white noise helps concentration levels in office environments. A litany of studies have been conducted since the beginning of the 20th century.

The articles and research papers that drew me in tended to be those that discussed Anxiety and Depression and the use of music to help combat the effects. I guess you could say I have a vested interest. The studies conducted showed music has a soothing effects as sensory pathways had to compete with pain pathways. Playing music or getting people to participate in music based tasks can be used as a distraction and is an effective among those who can become easily absorbed in cognitive activities.

This isn’t the first piece I’ve written about music and its effect on the mind, body and soul. I’ve always loved music since I was a little kid and have been lucky enough to have a very eclectic taste. I’ll thank Mum and Dad for that one. Unfortunately I was not gifted with a good set of lungs, unique dancing feet or the dexterity to become a successful musician. Although for those of you who have seen me dance you could say that it’s quite unique.

Whilst having the ability to lift people music can also send us spiraling in the opposite direction with memories they may bring of a time, place or person that is painful. What we often associate with music goes along way to showing that with memories we capture more than we often think. For example the trigger of a memory through a certain song or lyric of a song. I remember being in Scotland several years ago (OK I was a young pup so it was well over a decade ago) I was missing home, the weather was miserable, I think it was snowing, close to Christmas and I was slipping and sliding in the big white van I got to drive around for work.

After deciphering the thick Scottish brogue of the DJ a song came over the radio that immediately had a lifting effect on me as it reminded me of home and my mum, I’d love to say it was Land Down Under by Men at work being Australian but it was not. It was Eagle Rock by Daddy Cool and to this day whenever I hear I automatically think about mum. Just like whenever I hear Billy Joel I’m reminded of Dad.

I have always said there is a song for every moment, every emotion and for everyone. Whether it is a reminder of the past, present or dreams of the future music plays a bigger part in our memories and dreams than we often give it credit for. The premise of this was always to get you thinking about music and the properties behind it, how much of a role does it play in your life and what emotions and feelings does it stir within you?

I’m sure I am not telling you the reader anything you don’t already know but it does get you thinking!  Do I have my own song? Something that reminds me of me when I hear it? Or a song that is special to you? Lyrically I could pick a long list of songs that I can empathise with the artist as they pour out their heart or sing about a time in their life something happened.

If you are interested in reading more about the effect music has on our brain and body there are plenty of articles available on the net however the book ‘Why we Love Music’ by John Powell is a collation of research and information that he spent over 4 years gathering before releasing the book.   

For now I’ll take a leaf out of the Beautiful Girls book and leave you with this quote of their lyrics ‘Cause I got music and it makes me feel alright, I got this here music and it helps ease my mind, Cause I got music and it takes away the pain, Got this here music and I’ve got everyday.