'no regrets' .... really???

you know how people say...live life with ‘no regrets’. no regrets?

really? people still say that, or rather, people still believe that?

to live without regrets is ridiculous, it would in essence be saying that every decision you had made in the past was either the correct one, it was stupid and you don’t care, or you had a lobotomy and are lethargic.

we have to live with regret, it haunts some of us every day, for others we drowned it in substance, entertainment, or preoccupation.  making bad decisions is a part of life, but we learn from them and we
move on, constantly aware of our weakness and trying at all costs to avoid it. to say ‘no regrets’ is to fail flat on our face stand up, throw our fist and cheesy mantra in the air and fail again with no regard for our own human dignity or responsibility.

i just want you to look your parents in the face and right after you tell them you're pregnant - yell ‘no regrets!’.  or better yet when your at the doctors and he says ‘i am so sorry i have bad news about something you have contracted’ you get on the examining table and yell ‘no regrets’ then march out of his office singing a clash song.

so learn from what you have done wrong, after all who cares that you messed up! we all do! it is what happens from this day forth that matters.

to error is human, to say no regrets afterwards and do the same thing over again is 
just stupid.

I want love that is

i want a love how it is... sleep deprivation pain deep in my chest that is only filled when her voice rings through my ear, touches my hand, or slows down to catch a red light so we can have one more second in each others eyes, and lips. i had had that, once.

isn't love also that comfortable silence sitting in the car while driving through the night though? no touch is needed, no whisper spoken. it's wanted, but not needed. it's an ideal to me at least. i long for love in the sense that i want to know for certain that i want no one else ever again in my life. to be able to say without needing another's assurance that i love one person more than i love myself.

i want it all and nothing less. will i ever attain that goal? i can honestly say that i don't know. i don't know for certain if it even exists. but what good is it to not dream? i'd rather dream of a false ideal than live without a dream at all.

untitled

So call it fate. Or call it divine appointment. Call it whatever you would like.
But whatever you call it, somehow life’s circumstances have led you to someone.
And they will continue to lead you to many different someone's.
Some will make you weak in your knees, child-like if you will, others you will allow to pass by going unnoticed.
But when someone does catch the attention of your heart and mind, choice steps in.
Will I have the nerve to pursue this woman?
Or will I allow intimidation and fear of rejection stand in my way?
And how will she respond?
Will she run from me in fear of falling in love and having her heart broken once more?
Are both parties ready to be committed to someone else?
Have I fallen for whom she really is or has her outward beauty seduced me?
Has she fallen for me simply because I am showing her the attention she desires?
Or has she fallen in love, not with my accomplishments, but with the man that I am?
Is a relationship even an option or does age difference or life calling and experience stand in the way?
And can barriers, such a geographical distance, be overcome?
Is the person worth the sacrifice?
Is the person worth the effort?
Is the person worth taking your own life and intertwining it with theirs?

Hopefully some day I will all have the opportunity to say yes to these final three questions, but until then . . .

this quote seems apt.  in light of where i think i am currently at.

"Life is a hospital where each patient is possesed by the desire to change beds. This one would like to suffer facing the stove, that one believes that he would be cured next to the window. It seems to me that i would always be will where i am not, and this question of moving is one that i will discuss endlessly with my soul." 
Charles Baudelaire  - anywhere out of this world

did he just read my mind? everywhere in my life is my hospital bed. i move here/there and i think someone somewhere else is finding ecstasy elsewhere. contentment evades me like the women of my dreams, like the fame, like the money, like the power, and like the intellectual stimulation i long for. 

it seems Seattle has music, Paris has culture, Spain has elegance, London has fashion, New York has trend, and my life...it has... only me. just me. 

will i be a sinking ship or a lighthouse?

 'Throughout history, it has been the inaction of those who could have acted; the indifference of those who should have known better; the silence of the voice of justice when it mattered most; that has made it possible for evil to triumph.'  - Haile Selassie

i wanted a lighthouse. maybe i was supposed to be the lighthouse. either way with the fact, at moments life has a way of slowly putting a pillow over your face as you try to sleep. a slow and steady suffocation, i wish it was all of a sudden so that you could instantly deal with it and leave it in yesterdays wake. 

at moments this feels like such a negative world we live in, the only bright spots in it we ourselves must create for others.

i woke to the sounds of an argument or 'discussion' with a loved one, i can't seem to make them happy, or maybe they can't make themselves happy. either way i feel very responsible and helpless this many miles away. 

some time ago i got news that a friend nearly killed himself because of depression, but  only a few weeks before that  i had  sat next to him. nearly in silence, talking to him about shallow instances and surface niceties. i wanted to go back in time and pull him away from himself, and the pain that surrounded him. 

i cannot allow myself to wallow in the mire of negativity for long, for mapping out the long and winding road of negativity means i must travel it to chart it. i allow myself to fail, for if i had never failed i could have never learned the lessons i hold dear. but as far as drowning in what i see all around me i refuse to watch from a distance simply shaking my head in pity. i am going to try to be the lighthouse that brings people to shore. i may lose some along the way, but all i can do is shine a light [no, not the song analogy]. 

'Avoid destructive thinking. Improper negative thoughts sink people. A ship can sail around the world many, many times, but just let enough water get into the ship and it will sink. Just so with the human mind. Let enough negative thoughts or improper thoughts get into the human mind and the person sinks just like a ship.'  -Alfred A Montapert

if only it was that easy though. at times, it's not.

random sorry, i know. but i’ve just got a lot on my mind.

veracity.

If I died, one would merely have to collect my writings, photographs, lyrics, journals, and the conversations I have had to know everything about me.  I feel in life each one of us are a complex puzzle, the older we get the more pieces there are for one to collect.  We give a small portion of ourselves to each event, moment, and person that we come into contact with.  I would imagine we are all the same, some pieces given more freely than others.  Some pieces bigger than others, according to their importance/impact on/in our lives.

Are we really ever really ourselves, not in the sense of being who we really are, but do we belong to ourselves? 

Are we really an island to ourselves?

I believe we are not an island to ourselves because clearly when others give us a part of themselves (whether it be their intellect, faith, or opinion) we do not only take a piece of their proverbial puzzle, but we then try our best to attach it where might fit the best, if at all.

And they take from us as well.  Whether good or bad, right or wrong, positive or negative.

The other day as a friend and I were sitting outside wishing it were a few degrees cooler and hoping that there would be a lot less humidity in the air, I proceeded to surrender some of my struggles to my friend, not that she could ever relate or sympathise, but that I could hand her a section of me that was an aggravation to maintain.  

Why does handing something verbally over to someone feel so freeing?   As if now it is their burden to share as well, even though that could not be further from the truth.

I wonder if the reason I don’t tell one person alone every aspect of my life is because I’m afraid of what they might find out.  As if one person alone held every key they would realise I am simply human.

So silence is my defence mechanism. 

Silence allows the ability to have opinions formulated not by who you truly are but by what others think you are.

Silence has never had its way with me before, so why begin now? 

I want to hear what others believe, I realise that the more I know, the more I realise that I don’t have a damn clue.

I want to learn truth, I think we all do, there is something out there greater than ourselves, that can complete our own ‘puzzle’, because I see now we were never complete to begin with.  Though I find solace in the words and wisdom of others, I see that knowledge and understanding are only the beginning of any quest for veracity.

my apology

i am sure that i am going to regret putting this post up. its pretty late at night and I'm feeling vulnerable and somewhat disillusioned. i will probably take this down tomorrow. but for some reason i feel compelled to admit my guilt. in some ways maybe this is some sort of bizarre and twisted therapy. i am guilty. i have, and will fail. but i need to get over my superman complex and become vulnerable so that others can learn from my error.


ive come to see what a bastard of a human i have been in my life. i think it all started around the age of 20, maybe earlier. it wasn't sex i sought out in women. ever. it was merely the attention. and not just the attention from humans it was from only females. sad really. actually not even sad, its pathetic. i desired to be desired ironically. and that's it. once i was accepted it was over on some level.


i bought a shirt a while back. it said CHANGED. random that some wear their heart on their sleeve, but modern fashion allows me to wear it on my chest as well.


i have never had a girlfriend that i cheated on. being single is a new experience. a good experience. so while i've never cheated - i've often thrived for this attention. i think the simple root of my problem can be traced to the fact i never felt like people close to me were proud of me. though i got a lot of attention from my folks and those i respect, i think sometimes it may not have always been the most positive. but i can't and will not blame this on them. my folks are brilliant. actually i think its a cop out when people blame all their problems on their parents or those close to them. poor cowards. they will live their entire life's never knowing that they themselves made the decisions. sad when people cannot take responsibilities for their own actions. but this is my confession, and my problem, and i am simply pointing out a possible root.


tonight i walked by some men that couldn't have been but 10 years older than me. hitting on some women in a bar. i thought to myself how disgusting. all she is to them is prey. then i looked in the proverbial mirror. i don't want to be that man. single and hunting, years past days he should be making a family. and that's what it is right... hunting. well that's what it looked like anyway.


the other day a very nice looking young professional talked to me for quite a while. she said that she shared the same group of mutual friends, and had the same musical tastes as me. which i thought was funny. at the end of the conversation she gave me her card and asked her to call her so we could hang out and she could show me around my new city. on the way home i handed the card to my friend. he ripped it up. sorry if you see this "M". but i thought you should know.


i don't want to be a bastard anymore. i am not going to hurt anyone anymore. i want a secluded life. i want to grow a beard or something. i wish i could walk away sometimes. to anywhere. but that's pretty cowardly of me isn't it.


insane as it sounds men glorify other men that break hearts and take names. from black books to books like "the game" by neil strous. we make it appears so glamorous to tear someone apart, take them for all they are worth, and walk away. i am sure there are several guys reading this that can relate. you have a game or plan on how to sway lips. pathetic is the key word in this dissertation.


i have a lot to learn. i am no where close to who i want to be. i am going to stay a few paces back from any relationship. i have broken a couple bridges, moved to fast, tried to slow down, and crashed. i have a reputation now. undeserved on many levels. deserved on many other bigger levels that those people don't even know about.


i walked into a tattoo studio the other day. on the wall there was a heart that looked like it had been sewn up. across it was the word repair. and for some reason it compelled me.


like anyone with a problem, the first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem, well here's my admission. and though i am going to regret posting this at all maybe it will help someone admit something they are dealing with or help someone realize that they don't have to get attention from the opposite sex to feel validated. its so very pointless and shallow. be who you are.


as i was walking away from the tattoo studio i remembered the scripture that Christ had spoke "... i have come to heal the broken hearted". then i realized im the bastard that probably broke that heart or hurt that person. i will change. i am changing. its simply a matter of time. just you wait and see.


i guess the one thing i have not done is to say sorry to anyone i have hurt. sure this doesn't amount to much. words are the most meaningless objects i have in your lives at this moment. but maybe this is where honesty and admitting i am wrong come into play... i am truly sorry.

what's a bedside revolution anyway?

opposed to popular belief you CAN change the world.

so please stand up for what you think is right or wrong no matter who you face, or how many people attack you.

one person can change the world, you just have to get up and go out and do it!

so there is NO SUCH THING as a bedside revolution.

if you feel strongly about an issue, go make a difference.
there are organizations that are out there who want to come along side you and help with the same goals.

something i have been behind is To Write Love On Her Arms... check the link, and get behind an organisation or something you believe in:
http://www.twloha.com/page.php?id=6

insecurities, vanity and life

i think this is simply going to be a random commentary on life, i guess... i have no clue what i am going to write about, so here goes.

as i sat back in a cafe today in the middle of town i saw a rather nice, large car pull up at the front. out came the driver, who i later assumed was the daughter, she looked too compassionate and genuine to be a hired hand. the elderly lady in the back was helped up and began to walk rather slowly into the cafe. but there was something peculiar about this woman, you see her legs were obviously frail; i deducted this by the slow walking pace and rather alarmingly turtle like cruise control that she put upon her own two legs. but her face. well it caught me by surprise, and it wasn't a second glance look like a car accident, it was a solid wide eyed mouth open second glance. her face and neck had been, well "hollywooded". her lips tripled the size of mine in weight and stature. her face was so pulled back i expected to see skin and not hair on the back of her head. her neck looked as though the driver was restraining it, or trying to choke her neck behind her. all in all her face looked half the age of her body. but who was she fooling, the skin on her arms looked more like a map of new york city subway system and less fitting to her face. which i guess is the point.  which is a rather mute point at a certain point in life. 

i am not trying to criticise this elderly woman, i am simply wondering how much of our lives is a front to hide our insecurity's. how much is what we participate in a veneer for keeping up with the image we think we need. we as white washed tombs, on the outside we may look pure and holy, but on the inside lie dead men's bones. why are you in that job? is this really what you wanted to be doing with your life, or is it just for the tittle, distinction, or the possessions what you earn will afford. are these your dreams? or are you pretending for the notoriety it might someday bring. is this the school or degree you wanted, or is this the plastic surgeons work to make you look better to others than you really are.

flying was a rather tedious percentage of my career up until recently, but i am in no way complaining. i remember when i was a kid that i had counted the number of times i had flown on a makeshift calendar and lost count after a while. i don't know why a lot of us have this "wunder lust". it's just the fact that this world is smaller than it was for our parents and i actually have the opportunity to see it. for a nominal fee i can fly to places that a family could live out their days on the cost of the airline ticket just to get there... which is not the point. the point is i don't understand why we don't travel more, maybe it is fear of the unknown, or pickpockets, or whatever. either way its a beautiful world out there, and honestly one seems more attractive to the opposite sex when you can say hello in a couple different language. which is the point.

the point to what.... i wonder if we could reproduce asexually what would be considered worthwhile and meaningful in this world. people drive nice cars to impress people, we want to impress people so they notice us, we want to be noticed for attention, we want attention so that one day we could gain their affection, we like affection because it brings emotional attachment, we want emotional attachment cause that gets us... well to reproduce. at school i made this elongated chart which brought everything in life back to reproduction. sad, yes, but true. why did the old lady get plastic surgery, true she did not want to reproduce, but she wanted all the extra curricular that comes along with it. she wanted to be adored, affection, attachment, etc. think about it, you don't see grandpa reading GQ or men's vogue, because he does not care. the farther from reproduction one is, the farther one distances himself/herself to fitting in, or trying to impress the opposite sex.

i'm rambling at this point. but for those who wish to sit down and think about this central theme of the world revolving around aspects of genetic donation and sex - the more seemingly depressing the world becomes. but not really. it's life. this life is both random and frustrating at times. 

some thoughts on love

Frank Zappa once said “It’s better to have something to remember than nothing to regret...”

It’s funny how I still look for qualities of her in other people, but the person she is now is confusing, and who I was in love with is no more.  I was in love with who she was, not who she is. I would be chasing a pipe dream, a fairy tale, which includes a time machine.

I have found that it’s hard not to compare someone to another that you liked so much. You just love every quality about that person who you “fell in love with” - that you want someone to be the same, so you still have the person that you lost.

I used to tell people that I have no regrets, and would never regret anything in life. Now I see I just needed to grow up and realise that regrets are simply failures, and failures are a necessary part of life because we all learn from our mistakes. If we keep making the same mistakes and never learning from them, then we are a failure! So I can safely say I regret some things that I have done in my past but I have learned and don’t ever count the memories as failures because I have learned... and moved on.

“Love is blind

I want it all tonight and love is blind

Falls in love with itself again like it never should the way it always can

Oh and she is mine but the world is so much bigger now

Oh tell me should I hold her hand and give her love or take her heart and throw it far away?”

- pulp

I used to believe in this thing called fate, or destiny. A romantic Romeo and Juliet, and Monte and Veronica etc. But now I feel a little jaded, maybe agnostic to the idea. But choice used to seem so unromantic, as if some mystic force was not behind the meeting of two beautiful individuals. But now I think choice is now the greater of the two simply for this fact: by choosing someone you are saying that out of all the people in the entire world I have decided that I want you to be a part of my life and no one else. No haphazard circumstance, no chance meetings where distant planets align... Its simply two rational individuals who make a choice and an effort to remain together. And for years I have convinced myself that choice is the better of the two. But for now I want to believe in fate, that there is someone out there created with me in mind and vice versa.

go on, write something down

a late night thought came to me after hearing someone talk about donald miller tonight.

in the book “blue like jazz” don miller says in the intro - when speaking about jazz - "sometimes you have to watch somebody love something before you can love it yourself. it is as if they are showing you the way."

so go on, show us all the way with your passions, goals and dreams. inspire someone. start writing a journal so you can inspire your children’s, children’s. start an online journal [blog]. let us watch you love something, so we can too.

"Better to write for yourself and have no public, than to write for the public and have no self."

-Cyril Connolly (1903 - 1974)

attitude

Lately, I've been thinking about attitude and how it's roots are inward, while it's fruits are outward. So what better than just to paraphrase some interesting thoughts around what I've been reading.

John Maxwell said it was the Librarian of our past, the speaker of our present and prophet of our future. Your attitude dictates who you are - what you do and how you do it.

So the longer you live, the more you realise the impact of attitude on life.

Attitude, is more important than facts. It is more important than the past, than education, than money, than circumstances, than failures, than successes, than what other people think or say or do. It is more important than appearance, giftedness or skill. It will make or break a company... a church... a home.

The remarkable thing is we have a choice every day regarding the attitude we will embrace for that day. We cannot change our past... we cannot change the fact that people will act in a certain way (see below). We cannot change the inevitable. The only thing we can do is play on the one string we have, and that is our attitude... I am convinced that life is 10% what happens to me and 90% how I react to it.

And so it is with you... we are in charge of our attitudes.

  - charles swindoll

So with that in mind, isn't it interesting how we sometimes always have "bad days"? What I've been finding is that a reason for my bad day could be based around my attitude towards certain things and situations. Do I create a bad day for myself, based on how I react to something? I guess the reality check is to see - if my attitude were different, would I suffer as much?

"press on"

"Nothing in the world can take the place of persistence. Talent will not; nothing is more common than unsuccessful men with talent. Genius will not; unrewarded genius is almost a proverb. Education alone will not; the world is full of educated derelicts. Persistence and determination alone are omnipotent. The slogan "press on" has solved and always will solve the problems of the human race."                         

~ John Calvin Coolidge

It's election season both here and abroad, and I find it somewhat funny to read of the American dream. Everything is within reach when you try hard enough. The makeable-life writings are very inspiring, optimistic and all that, so are they true? Or are we just drooling all over the theory while in reality nothing happens or changes?

One thing that motivates me to hold on to certain dreams, is that if I fail, which sometimes is very likely, at least I will be able to look in the mirror and remind myself "at least I tried with everything that was in my might" and have peace about it.

I think we have to face [and live with] the fact that a certain percentage - I don't know, I'll just say 60% - of our plans, hopes and dreams will always remain plans, hopes, dreams and never a reality. But the trick I find is to remain childlike, to dare to expect a lot from life in spite of previous disappointments, to challenge yourself, and to keep both feet on the ground.

Take note McCain, Obama, Clark and Key et al., regardless of whatever disappointments faced in the upcoming months - Abraham Lincoln ran for President more than once, and when he was finally elected due to his persistence, he brought about some rather important change - in abolishing slavery.

It is with this thought, that it is continually surprising to see what the mere act of persistence will yield. A chap by the name of Churchill put his take on persistence as:

"Never give in, never give in, never, never, never, never - in nothing, great or small, large or petty - never give in except to convictions of honour and good sense. Never, Never, Never, Never give up."

Well, if the key is persistence then hopefully our attempts will finally pay off.  

Funny, isn't it, how we can be nice and respectful and go nowhere but, as soon as we become a pest we get noticed and people will do anything so we leave them alone.  Sad, but true…

Yet, persistence is a wonderful thing especially in this life when most people just give up, but those who persist will eventually get to where they are going and succeed.

So thanks to the special person who has inspired me to "press on" as of late...

friends don't let friends drink starbucks

 

A degree of sadness fell upon me when I learnt that 685 employees [rather "partners" - to hone the official Starbucks term] of Starbucks Coffee were going to lose their jobs in Australia. But I'm not at all sorry to hear that 61 of the 84 Starbucks branches are going to close. My only few regrets are that the company would decide to instead close all 84 branches in Australia; and then in turn, jump over the ditch and do the same here in New Zealand. If the Australian espresso aficionados are lucky, the branches will be replaced with cafes that sell something a little different from what's on offer at Starbucks - a beverage we like to call "coffee".

It would be hypocritical of me not to admit that at times, my own caffeine addiction has driven me to pay Starbucks' exorbitant prices for a substandard cup. But those were times when I was overseas. I'm even willing to confess that I have been to many of the franchises through my travels. So I've actually welcomed the Starbucks logo in places such as Moscow, Bangkok and London.

The mass closure of Starbucks outlets in the United States have been linked to the economic downturn, and fair enough. In America, Starbucks coffees count as expensive luxury items. And if you're serious about coffee, you wouldn't be drinking it, so it's understandable that in tough times, taste-insensitive customers want to go somewhere cheaper.

When Starbucks first opened here, its small size was the regular small coffee size, but that soon ended, and we now have the American sizes, where even the smallest has far too much milk in it. Still, at least it means you can't taste the coffee. Which is obviously why Starbucks likes to put caramel and toffee and other variants of sugar in the coffee to make it more palatable, and the milk taste less burnt.

I'm willing to bet that most people won't mourn Starbucks' passing, in contrast to the US where regulars are organising petitions to save their local branches. A petition in Seattle references the tragic phenomenon of Starbucks outlets being perceived as a yuppie status symbol in much of America, illustrating the terrible deprivation many Americans suffer under, never having known anything better.

But there is one thing that's truly great about Starbucks, which I will miss. This is my vain attempt to inject balance by thinly veiling my delight in dancing on the graves of closed outlets. The saving grace, so to say, is the atmosphere in its outlets. While it is highly corporatised, and naff in it’s attempt to feel like a neighbourhood coffee-house, with all those posters about the amazing coffee varieties from exotic places around the world that Starbucks manages to make taste uniformly bland. There are precious few places where you can sit for hours without feeling unwelcome, and Starbucks, to its credit, offered that.

Sure, part of the reason is that because, since you can now get better espresso even at McDonald's, there's never much demand for tables. But having just spent a few months travelling around major cities, I can say that I often found myself checking into a Starbucks to do a bit of tapping away on a laptop. Sure, I always ordered an orange juice. But nevertheless, its generous attitude to their space was welcome. J.K. Rowling famously wrote much of the Harry Potter series in an Edinburgh Starbucks, which is perhaps where she got the idea for some of the book’s foul concoctions.

The truly sad thing about those "partners" is that their skills won't be transferable. Sure, everyone hires good baristas, but if I was a cafe owner, and someone turned up with a CV noting that he or she had graduated from the Starbucks Coffee University, or whatever they call it, I would send them immediately to some kind of re-education camp on how to really make coffee [sorry Jamie].

Ok, so I'm a horrible coffee snob, with a dependency on the pure Columbian variety, I admit it. This entire blog has been full of the same irritating smugness that makes me go to Mojo and ask, with a straight face, for an "Americano with a shot of hazzlenut".

 

you're welcome to complain

Isn't it interesting how at the core of every life there is a deep dissatisfaction with how things are; at the root of every history maker's calling is a complaint. This complaint is their cause, it is their fuel, drive and motivation to push through and accomplish their change, however tough it may get.  

When people have no complaint they become compliant; they do what others tell them, accept the status quo, and sign up to long established traditions. They do what they do because everyone else does; together they comply.  

Compliant people will never become purposeful people or people who want to see change. Compliant leaders cannot be visionary leaders, because compliance is comfortable and comfort has never been the mother of complaint. Martin Luther King, Ghandi or the latest and greatest political activist never fell into a lifestyle of compliance. A comfortable life without any complaints is doomed, even though you may have a clear vision for where you are heading.  

Vision is fuelled from two directions, the past and the future. My complaint about what must change pushes relentlessly from behind and the vision of better things pulls me onwards from the future. The gift this gives me is awesome: It means that on a bad day, or whenever I feel overwhelmed by the size of the challenge of the future, I will always keep going by simply remembering the past. The advantage of this, is that we sometimes feel like war veterans, and the freedoms we fought and suffered for make us just as scared about going back as others are excited about going forward. If we ever have moments of doubt or lack confidence about going forward, we only have to remember the past – which we are determined never to go back to – and going forward suddenly becomes a great option, however great the challenge we face! People who haven’t settled that going back is never better, will always struggle to find a reason to keep going in the face of adversity.


And history is not kind to people who go back.  

It is the complainers in all walks of life that are getting results. Thousands of lobby groups, many of them small in number, refuse to be silent about their cause, whether it is saving the whale, protecting the environment or having better working conditions. Celebrity TV chef Jamie Oliver recently took on the British Government about the poor nutritional quality of school meals. His complaint was that children are being fed junk food at the most formative time of their physical and intellectual development. His outrage exposed the disgrace on national TV and the public protest he provoked resulted in a change in the level of government funding for school meals in a matter of weeks. Many before him had expressed a concern about school meals, but a concern is not a complaint. A complaint fuels a vision to bring change and the consistent voice it becomes makes real change possible.  

When I say complaint, I do not mean whinging! Whingers are people who complain about things that they permit and tolerate. Whingers are everywhere, but people with a genuine complaint, who are willing to become a force for change, are much rarer.  

What you can’t stand is what you were put here to stand up for. What’s your problem? What’s your issue? What can’t you stand? What won’t you put up with? What do you have an attitude about? What bothers you about your world? What keeps you awake at night? What drives you crazy and gets you up on your ‘soap box’ thumping the table in protest?  

Passion rules the universe. Without passion nobody becomes a follower of a complaint. Effective communication is 20% what you know and 80% how you feel about what you know. Where this ratio is reversed, passionate people are viewed as odd or highly strung and told to calm down and chill out. But the last thing some of you reading this need to do is calm down! Don’t try to calm down about things you feel deeply passionate about! Be the change you wish to see, and for want of a better catch-phrase, start the revolution you wish to see!