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Think for a minute, just imagine the possibilities and power granted to an individual if we as a society had the ability to bottle 'hindsight' and deliver it to those with an active and healthy conscience. In much the same way as you can buy a packet of Panadol at the local supermarket, why have we not yet engineered a drug for rapid relief of regret and remorse? This is one huge factor that threatens hundreds of the 'awesome' walking our streets today. Many of whom perform extreme acts of 'awe' only to be reprimanded in a society that does not understand this super sub-class of people. Whether it be because of their fear of the unknown, or the fact that so many of the awesome perform acts that are far beyond their time, which will only be appreciated by the next generation of awesome apprentices in years to come.
Take for example, an act of awesomeness that, "a friend of mine" committed just recently. It involved a welcome home gift of sorts for his mate who had returned from an extensive overseas holiday. Thinking it wise to show his appreciation at the friend's return, he did it in the only manner he knew how, inspired. A late night, free-range projectile throwing, drive-by where the victim was his mate's shitbox car. Upon perpetrating the act and departing the scene, not a hint of remorse or guilt could be found in the cab of the careening car, hurtling home through the streets. However later on in the night he recieved a phone call from the friend who owned the car, displaying his great displeasure at being the victim of an egging. The awesome egger was shocked, hurt and saddened that this extreme act of uncharted awesomeness had gone unappreciated on one of the few people that could understand his burden. The cross he was to bare everyday, ostracised and forced to hide his true identity. He spiralled into an abyss of depression and self-loathing, which from an outsiders (fly-on-the-wall) perspective would have looked not unlike Martin Sheen in the bedroom scene from Apocalypse Now.
We, the awesome, are losing good men like him everday. Post inebriant-induced guilt is another plague on our kind. Due to the nature of the beast, it is a common trait amongst the awe-man to over do it when out and about in pubs and clubs. The social pressures are rife, consuming any rational decision-making elements left in their heads that have not been tainted by the fruits of alcohol. This makes for one hell of a hangover! With this can come rash decisions, like never partaking in any awesome behaviour from that point onwards. This threatens the continued existence of one of the most endangered mammals on this planet, the awesome.
This is but another obstacle those living secretly among us most overcome. It does not look like guilt and remorse can be cured at the drop of a hat just yet, but, like the only way we know how to deal with these feelings, just give it some time!
Like any true iconic, heroic and revered legend will tell you, there is a degree of humility and humbleness required of a great man in order to gain the respect of a populus. Arrogance is rarely tolerated but for a few who can actually back-up their diatribe tyrades through an astounding physical display of dominance in their arena. The fine line between confidence and egotism is certainly a bridge that should be walked, a necessary tool in the arsenal of "the awesome", but one should be wary not to stray too far from the river of whence thee came. Supreme acts of overconfidence and shitblokitism will not go unpunished, the bridge can be easily burned and retribution can be swift. If you remember these simple rules that have been passed down from one awesome bloke to another, you cannot go wrong...
1) People hate hearing how good you are. Always remember to talk yourself down, never blow your own trumpet. First, it is nigh on physically impossible unless you've mastered the art of yoga and secondly it looks really uncool. How do you get people to hear about your awesome awe-inspiring acts I hear you say? Well, this is a challenge that even the "made" awesome still have to overcome on a daily basis. This is the path you've chosen, your cross to bare, therefore you must never let your guard down. Awesomeness will always be expected of you amongst your peers and you will always need to be one step ahead. One cannot solely rely on the acts that preceed him, pushing the moral, ethical and social boundaries of decency is the life we choose. No one said being awesome was easy.
This leads me to the next point...
2) There is never a bad time for Awesome. Some social commentators still believe certain public and private arenas are what they like to call, sacred. It is a dying romantic view of the Jane Austen loving, polo playing elite who know which orifice they can insert their tea and scones. Take international cricket as a prime example. These same people who refer to the sport as 'a gentleman's game' have constantly overlooked the racial vilification and vile sledging that has existed since that phrase was coined. Pushing the boundaries and finding an edge over your opponent is what keeps the greatest at the top. So when an act of awesome is staged in a library for example, go one better, why not try a church, mosque, or during Parliamentary question time?
3) Never doubt your awesomeness. Would Luke Skywalker have ever defeated Darth Vader if he believed he wasn't so awesome like his father? What of Ralph Macchio's success in The Karate Kid, not to mention the sequel? If you are having a spate of questionable antics that just won't register on the awesome scale, keep on truckin. Everyone goes through a dry spell in more ways than one. Just remember that your one true awesome-inspiring act is just around the corner. In the mean time do not hang your head in shame and hide from the masses, in fact do the exact opposite. Show them that you have in fact failed and are happy to embrace your mortality. Even better still, try and convince them that your recent misappropriations are actually supreme acts of awesome, on a level way ahead of themselves and the likes of which no human has seen before. If this does not convince them, never forget that time heals all wounds.
Like the title suggests, this is but a guide to kick-start your awesomeness in the right direction. There are no right or wrongs, generally the wrongs are right, when it comes to leading a life of awesome. It is recommended that like anything posted on the internet, these 'directions' should be taken with maybe a bit more than a pinch of salt.
So the conversations around watercoolers in faceless offices, in staid buildings, would have us believe that there is an impending epidemic upon us. Something so large that it challenges man's continued existence on earth. Not too large however, that it cannot be measured in stones, kilos or pounds, but still quite rotund all the same. The 'Obesity Epidemic' has hit Australian shores, leaving all fifty U.S. states in its wake, taking no prisoners and leaving an aftermath so devastating it makes Hurricane Katrina look like Little Red Riding Hood (confused about that analogy, yeah me too).
We are led to believe, or we all in fact lead its belief, that "fat" is an inherently lazy disorder bestowed upon the couch-potato. Its place here on earth is constantly questioned, for electric blankets, air-conditioners and the aptly named 'fat bats' have given its insulating qualities a redundant existence. The porty are ostracised everyday on our streets, with pound-predjudices increasing in number all the time. Shows such as the patronizing 'Biggest Loser' parade the big-boned around like Catholics in the Colosseum. Their fate awaits judgement from those at home, ironically sitting on their couches in their glass houses. One can always take comfort in the misfortunes of another, as we are lulled into a false sense of security from the grand treadmill-infested and pretentiously-pulleyed work-out places that we attend. Like the hedonist who goes to church every Sunday, only to continue leading a life of sin, his judgement awaits.
The GYM (Gentlemen Yearning Matriarch) acts as a beacon for the insecure. The house construct and nature of its setting, gives the "gym-junky" their fix of 'home.' The gym evokes a sense of nostalgia amongst users, evident in their obsession with the smell of a home-cooked meal (in this case body odor and urea), which keeps them coming back time and time again for Mum's cooking (a few more reps on the bench press). Transporting the junky to another time and place, the gym can fill a certain void that an individual may have. The power of this establishment comes from the people who frequent it, often quoted as saying that nothing is ever as good as your first lat-pulldown. Anything else is just an attempt to relive that first experience.
So as gyms are erected all over the country do we ever stop and think, is this just a virulently vain attempt by image consultancies to make money? A new marketing frontier for firms to conquer? Well I say, like several popular social movements before it, 'gymism' is just another fad, faze and expendable progression that is in vogue now, but like the 80s, it will give us more cringes than Darryl Somers.
Fat is the new black. For the fat can be lost, but an arsehole will always smell of shit!
When is it too early for one to engage in some theatrical pursuits? Admitting to your mates that you'll spend your Saturday night at a production of say, Macbeth, is a difficult and unsavoury task not to be taken lightly. Trying to skirt around the issue just won't do. Convincing the boys that you'd rather be immersed in some art and culture over lager and stout, is bound to make them laugh, and then shout.
The theatrical pursuit is not unlike the forbidden fruit. Men have always had a fascination with what goes on between "thespians" behind/between the curtains. Their acts are met with an enthusiastic and appreciative audience in many a social situation. However openly admitting to engaging in weekend-long stage benders is sometimes frowned upon
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Sunday's morn brings unwanted rays of light, piercing our protagonist's eyes and managing to infiltrate his skull. Stirring rumblings of consciousness he suddenly feels uneasy. The begginings of a head-splitter become more and more evident. If the people of Pompeii had such a warning, maybe some would have escaped the ash that led to their inevitable demise. Although he knows its onset is nigh, there is little he can force himself to do.
Rising from his cradle the sudden change of head position acts as the catalyst his brain matter needs for the erruption to take place. In a raspy hoarse voice he manages a phrase that shall be his reason for changing his ways, committed to the cause of never consuming a drink again...but only for today. "I'm Fucked!" But the true meaning and extent of its pain shall be forgotten in time, time enough for next weekend's proceedings
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Comment by Zach Larkins
on A Guide to Recognising Your Awesomeness
Opinionated Ranter
Thanks for your support and encouragement.
You should still be able to access their old posts from this page also.
Good fortune to you aswell!