She loved him. He towered and fumbled.
Calloused hands and soft heart,
Sawdust and a eucalyptus ebbed into every jacket
He had never changed style or cut of hair, twice a year whether I need it or not
She changed him to the core, tenderness and love he longed to explore
Like eagles and wolves they had paired for life, irrespective of social ceremony
She, an inelegant ballerina, letting nothing through a protective veil,
Fumbling into each other with awkward intensity,
The time to inseparability could be measured in seconds
His calloused hands were tanned, worn and rough, leather saddles and old tables
Her face pale and smooth, porcelain doll in a harsh unrelenting riddle of a world
The fit true, the join reuniting those whom always belonged
He would be her Romeo, dependable and tender
She would embrace his Juliet, whatever that may be,
A firm embrace as life’s persistent torrent hurtles towards the next corner
Together in solace they would find a corner, a pool aside the torrent,
Solace to bear children and watch the season’s shift, quicker now with love in hand
Lonely winters and cold feet still a close memory
Flowers bloom and life springs anew
Father’s eyes, mother’s hair, and the suns energy
In him they would find themselves, reflections of the other, and a new love,
Stronger, selfless, like nothing they could have imagined previously
Jonathan Nolan
Wednesday, March 27, 2013
Tuesday, March 5, 2013
Start-up Ventures – Young Entrepreneurial Professionals Burning Candles
There is a new generation; a
group of young professionals in there twenties and early thirties who have seen
Google and Facebook grow from garage to gargantuan. From the birth of Arpanet
1976, the PC, the laptop, and smart phones and social media have paved a path
to a world where a concept, an idea can make you billions. Intellectual
property has never had as much liquidity as it does today, and this generation
wants to capitalize on it. Some of these entrepreneurs work ‘normal’ jobs. You
can see them leaving office buildings at 5:30pm like everyone else, it is only
after hours when they burn the candle. They invest their time, developing
applications, trying to grow an online business, trying to bring the next
Google or Amazon to life. One finger on the pulse of advancements in technology
and the other reading the zeitgeist, trying to predict shift in the new
generation, like a prospector trying to follow a vein of gold to IT start-up
riches. Holding a stethoscope, listening intently for the heartbeat of the
digital society. Try desperately to ‘Prophet to Profit,’ to prophesize the
future to generate revenue from that vision. A conversation between two of
these young, tech nouveau can often sound like a foreign language, throwing
around terms like; traction, critical mass, bootstrapping, burn rate, hacking a
startup, angel investment and seed funds. You may be thinking ‘wank words’ but
these people are often in uncharted waters and band together for strength and
support, and in the process a new tongue has formed.
Fazzam [http://Fazzam.com.au] is one of these
enterprises. I recently interviewed Co-founder Robert Petrovic who, with his two
business partners has developed a location based application that allow people
to 'virtually' knock on your neighbors doors and ask them for just about
anything based on post-code. Fazzam allows people to advertise services
such as language classes, essentially a digital notice board for the community.
Robert started the business with friends who have the diversity of skill them
amongst to bring a company and concepts kicking and screaming into the world.
I recently
attended a MeetUp group, [http://Meetup.com.au]
called Melbourne Silicon Beach the
group comprises around 1,200 members and includes; entrepreneurs, developers,
investors and people with an idea. Melbourne Silicon Beach introduces the
different groups and gives people a place to get feedback, and some times to
receive invaluable tough love that can potentially change the course of their development.
Concepts are born and turned to rubble a hundred times over as the tribe of
techies pitch and listen.
Like all the
stereotypical Hollywood writers working in a bar or café, their screenplay
tucked firmly under one arm, hoping that Spielberg comes in for lunch, reads
their script and whisks them away to fame and fortune. All entrepreneurs have
their ‘elevator pitch’ ready to deliver at a moments notice. The elevator pitch
is a concise, well-planned and thoroughly practiced description of your
business that your mother could understand; delivered in the time it takes to
ride an elevator. You never know when you will jump into an elevator and be
face-to-face with James Packer and Rupert Murdock, both looking for the next
fiscally sound investment opportunity or game changer to throw some money at to
see if its got legs.
The York
Butter Factory is a temple for this religion of innovation. The Factory is the co-working space for Melbourne's high-potential digital and
web entrepreneurs. A
Mecca for Start-ups, and for the brave who believe they can shake the shackles
of corporate cubicles, those with the faith in a concept and their ability to
bring that idea to a place where it pays the mortgage, keeps the lights on, and
lets you take your partner out for dinner and champagne at that place with the
French name in the city that overlooks the water (A universal success measure).
The theme of the place is very much inception, iterative design with constant
feedback and course corrections. The hash tag is #GST, or ‘Get Stuff Done’, and
people aren’t afraid to tell you if there is a problem with your design.
I love the
idea of playing table tennis while working out an approach to tackling a tough
problem, being my own boss, never wearing polished black shoes in summer, occasionally
starting work at 10:30am, and never again being constrained by governance or the
corporate policy machine.
So for those
with an idea that is accompanied by a level of frustration with working for
‘the man,’ it is worth investigating the other avenues out there. The energy,
creativity and changes occurring in this sector are phenomenal, you can strike
sparks off anything, and nothing is impossible.
Jonathan
Nolan
9-5: Office
worker
5-9 :
Dreamer / Entrepreneur / Innovator / Developer / CEO, CTO, CIO, CFO /
Friday, May 4, 2012
CLM’s at the work social functions
A CLM, or “Career Limiting Manoeuvre” is any act,
either during work hours, or outside, exposing your inner idiot to management,
and making them glad they passed you over for that promotion last year.
The work function, and especially the Christmas party is
the best arena to limit ones career. The suits will be swapped for jeans and
appropriate collared shirts, staff resources scramble for sausage rolls, the
meeting agenda is a massive bender, the project mandate, get the hips to gyrate.
Within minutes, intentions, reservation and social
boundaries are drowning in social lubricant. Different characters then start to
emerge, it seems the same types of characters exist in every work place. There
is the shy quiet guy who has three beers becomes the worlds loudest extravert.
There is the ear chewer, and the person who wants to give the ‘bosh’ a piece of
his mind as soon as he finishes this bottle of bourbon.
The obvious secret office romance so closely guarded
or unfulfilled starts firing up in the corner. If you are in one, please be
aware these are always as obvious as a third nipple on your forehead to your
colleagues. A mad drunken public pash on the podium will be hazily recalled
with hung over horror the following morning. The excuse, “but I was blind as a
welder’s dog!” will have to suffice…again.
And let us tip our hats and always remember the “man
of the match”, the one person who’s antics were highlights, the person who had
their pants off and on their head before everyone has even arrived, three
drinks in front of the field, he started a fight with the bartender, spilt a
drink on the pregnant lady, kicked a puppy, demanded a pay rise and threw up in
the taxi. Management material.
Jonathan
Nolan is an MX reader who will offer you shots at the Christmas party.
Dinner party no go “Faux pas for the course”
I have heard of a rule, possibly a boring one, which states that dinner party conversation should avoid the topics of sex, politics, and religion. Therefore “Have you heard the one about the priest, the Queensland Labour party candidate and the dominatrix?” is fantastic fun if you’re a habitual instigator, persistent line crosser, or a tenacious feather ruffler, but probably not recommended as an icebreaker at your partners work dinner.
The reason it is recommended those topics be avoided seems to me to relate to the passion people hold with concepts or beliefs that go to the core and people will rarely shift their opinions. A brick of an idea set in your minds concrete, hardened with age. Having all your beliefs decided seems to makes people feel complete, more whole. I like to think I could have an opinion swayed with a convincing enough argument. Ask yourself, “When was the last time you changed your mind on a big issue? Or more importantly what in your life has the power to change your perception of the world around you?
Religion is an obvious one, no one wants to be baptized between the entrée and main meal, and I have never seen anyone have their religious beliefs changed. Any attempt to convert the heathen, pagan sun worshipers to your cult and have them drinking the coulis by the main course will no doubt end in enough tears to baptize a room full of sinners. “Demons out!” And as far as I’m concerned, evangelists out! Religion is a wonderful thing for people to have, however if I become aware of it, it looses its beauty.
As any dinner party progresses, the socially inept and opinionated have converted the weak minded to the ways of the Jedi, “These aren’t the droids you’re looking for.” Sex must be next on the agenda, the outgoing hedonists wanting to shock and awe the left wing conservatives. How quickly a civilised dinner party can end with keys in a bowl, everyone having grown bad mustaches, wearing polo necks and platform shoes. Just remember, kinky is using a feather in the bedroom, but perverted is when you bring the whole chicken.
Discussions of politics arrive with the dessert course, and with the alcohol flowing, some at the dinner party have socially lubricated themselves that well there is no censorship friction at all between concept and mouth. I am guessing the Latin term would be “vino verobolis dihoreticas.”
If it is an important dinner such as your partner’s boss has invited you around, apply the 10/10 Beer Vs. Importance rule. If the importance of the event is 8/10 you can only have 2/10 beers. If you rate the importance is 4/10 then down a six-pack and dance the sprinkler. In Vino Veritas, or “In wine there is truth.” “Hey you, I don’t like you at work, but your wife has a fit bum” will come back to bite you on the bum.
If the conversation gets heated before the dinner, play the arbitrator and try to find common ground, “How bad are the local council but how good is the local football team!”
Remember what happens on the footy trip stays on the footy trip, however what happens at the dinner party will be brought up by your wife for weeks.
Jonathan gets great joy out of being a habitual instigator, persistent line crosser, or a tenacious feather ruffler.
As any dinner party progresses, the socially inept and opinionated have converted the weak minded to the ways of the Jedi, “These aren’t the droids you’re looking for.” Sex must be next on the agenda, the outgoing hedonists wanting to shock and awe the left wing conservatives. How quickly a civilised dinner party can end with keys in a bowl, everyone having grown bad mustaches, wearing polo necks and platform shoes. Just remember, kinky is using a feather in the bedroom, but perverted is when you bring the whole chicken.
Discussions of politics arrive with the dessert course, and with the alcohol flowing, some at the dinner party have socially lubricated themselves that well there is no censorship friction at all between concept and mouth. I am guessing the Latin term would be “vino verobolis dihoreticas.”
Remember what happens on the footy trip stays on the footy trip, however what happens at the dinner party will be brought up by your wife for weeks.
Jonathan gets great joy out of being a habitual instigator, persistent line crosser, or a tenacious feather ruffler.
Friday, February 24, 2012
Making your mark on the world
Mahatma Gandhi, while emptying his piggy bank said, "Be the change you want to see in the world." So I ask you, what is your motivation? What mark do you want to leave as you look back over your shoulder while shuffling off this mortal coil?
I don't know what is worse, aiming low and smashing head on into mediocrities bullseye, or aspiring to walk on the moon, and failing the NASA aptdatood test. Then getting disgruntled, and next thing, “There’s a sniper in the clock tower, run for your lives!” That is how it happens, it's only a small few steps from enjoying camping to get away from the crazy hustle bustle of the city, to brushing the bugs out of your beard while writing the final chapter of your manifesto in your log cabin.
If you do aim too high and actually have a successful moment in your life, you then face the dilemma of experiencing what I have dubbed "the Aldrin curve" named after astronaut Buzz Aldrin, the second man to walk on the moon. The Aldrin curve is the point where you realise that from here on in it's all down hill and everything you will do from this point on will never surmount your yesterday. This is an opportune time to take up story telling and drinking, and not in that order. "Lend me a dollar and your ear and I'll tell you about a time when [hiccup] men were men and we travelled to the starsh."
Perhaps success will be measured in the future, not by actions, but by the number of followers you have on Twitter? “Oh my god, that’s @LazyGirl54, she has over a million followers!” Social media is the equivalent of standing up at the grand final at half time with a microphone and informing everyone, “I had toast for breakfast.” Advances in digital communication have taken us in leaps and bounds down gibberish lane.
Some seem content with a simple life, cave and a curtain, a place to exist, own the dream, buy a boat when your fifty-five, make a speech at your child’s twenty-first, have a hip replacement and die. Leaving drive and ambition in the will for the grandchildren. It was drilled into me when I was growing up that how are we raised is critical to the way we end up… What comes after indoctrasix and indoctraseven? Indoctrinate, that is correct, so don't tell your children they can achieve great things, that one day they could travel to another planet, or walk on the surface of Mars, tell them that one day they could own a large television and watch Arnold Schwarzenegger walk on Mars in the total movie Total Recall after they finish their night shift at the factory.
Don't say to them, "You can be whatever you want to be if you apply yourself." Instead tell them with the state of the world, when they grow up the Australian economy; will have more problems then an Icelandic Air traffic controller, the unemployment queue will be busier then a one-armed brick layer in Bagdad, and there chances of owning their own home will disappear quicker then a fart in a fan factory. Happiness is all about managing expectations.
Jonathan Nolan is an MX reader who wants to leave his mark on the world in ink, like a cheap blue pen leaking in the pocket of life’s new white business shirt.
I don't know what is worse, aiming low and smashing head on into mediocrities bullseye, or aspiring to walk on the moon, and failing the NASA aptdatood test. Then getting disgruntled, and next thing, “There’s a sniper in the clock tower, run for your lives!” That is how it happens, it's only a small few steps from enjoying camping to get away from the crazy hustle bustle of the city, to brushing the bugs out of your beard while writing the final chapter of your manifesto in your log cabin.
If you do aim too high and actually have a successful moment in your life, you then face the dilemma of experiencing what I have dubbed "the Aldrin curve" named after astronaut Buzz Aldrin, the second man to walk on the moon. The Aldrin curve is the point where you realise that from here on in it's all down hill and everything you will do from this point on will never surmount your yesterday. This is an opportune time to take up story telling and drinking, and not in that order. "Lend me a dollar and your ear and I'll tell you about a time when [hiccup] men were men and we travelled to the starsh."
Perhaps success will be measured in the future, not by actions, but by the number of followers you have on Twitter? “Oh my god, that’s @LazyGirl54, she has over a million followers!” Social media is the equivalent of standing up at the grand final at half time with a microphone and informing everyone, “I had toast for breakfast.” Advances in digital communication have taken us in leaps and bounds down gibberish lane.
Some seem content with a simple life, cave and a curtain, a place to exist, own the dream, buy a boat when your fifty-five, make a speech at your child’s twenty-first, have a hip replacement and die. Leaving drive and ambition in the will for the grandchildren. It was drilled into me when I was growing up that how are we raised is critical to the way we end up… What comes after indoctrasix and indoctraseven? Indoctrinate, that is correct, so don't tell your children they can achieve great things, that one day they could travel to another planet, or walk on the surface of Mars, tell them that one day they could own a large television and watch Arnold Schwarzenegger walk on Mars in the total movie Total Recall after they finish their night shift at the factory.
Don't say to them, "You can be whatever you want to be if you apply yourself." Instead tell them with the state of the world, when they grow up the Australian economy; will have more problems then an Icelandic Air traffic controller, the unemployment queue will be busier then a one-armed brick layer in Bagdad, and there chances of owning their own home will disappear quicker then a fart in a fan factory. Happiness is all about managing expectations.
Jonathan Nolan is an MX reader who wants to leave his mark on the world in ink, like a cheap blue pen leaking in the pocket of life’s new white business shirt.
Sunday, February 5, 2012
I’m mild allergy Intolerant
“How are you?” I always answer good, great, fantastic, even if I am feeling a little under the weather, or last nights vindaloo has left me running to-the-loo. The response I hear all too often is, “I’m a little bloated from eating a piece of bread, I have a mild case of celiacs.” Now let me take a deep breath here, swallow down my delicious piece of sesame seed encrusted Vienna loaf, topped with peanut butter and crab dip and say that unless you have a pen that is filled with adrenaline on you at all times, even in the shower, then don’t tell me about it! The only qualifier for filling me in is if need to let me know and train me to use it on the off chance that a sesame seed falls onto your foot, potentially ending your life within two minutes, unless this is the case, get over yourself! If something disagrees with you, frustration fueled drum-roll …eat around it fatty, and don’t tell anyone.
These are all pathetic first world problems like “my car stereo won’t read a 16-gig USB stick, or “There are too many choices on the menu!” And then you have the third world problems such as "I fear for my life constantly and my brother was just abducted by the 'free democratic peoples party' while searching for clean water." Think about that for a minute next time your telling someone in detail about the rash on your inner arm every time you eat slightly unripe tomatoes.
I wonder if UNICEF and World Vision deal with a lot of cases of mild food allergies when they supply food to famine ravaged and starving war-torn areas. I am going to go out on a malnourished limb and say no. I am presuming the hierarchy of needs kicks in faster then you can cook a pack of two-minute noodles between meals.
The Fruitarians of the world are ruining my BBQ. No, I have not catered for people who only eat fruit that has fallen from the tree, and yes the Soysages were cooked in the BBQ fat of real animals, that is the only way they are anyway tolerable. Don’t forget it was the late great Kurt Cobain who told us “It’s ok to eat fish, cause they don’t have any feelings.” I do have a box of BBQ shapes, a tub of hommus, and a copy of the book, “10 steps to being annoying at social events,” if you would like to accompany me to the special people corner.
If people are going to insist on ruining my meal with detailed descriptions of their terribly feeble afflictions, perhaps that is the done thing. If that’s the case then allow me to get some payback... While you were eating your Christmas trifle, I hope you remembered that jelly is made from the hooves of horses, one of which may have been named black beauty just like the one you rode as a child that time on holidays. The turkey you carved up was named Denis. He preferred corn over grain and loved the morning sun. And finally the ham, let us stop and think of Babe – a pig in the city, trucked to the city then covered in apple sauce. Payback is a beach, and that is where I spent Christmas, eating a Black Beauty Trifle, Babe and applesauce roll, and a cranberry Denis without any minor allergic reactions.
Jonathan is an MX reader who does not tolerate your lack of tolerance
These are all pathetic first world problems like “my car stereo won’t read a 16-gig USB stick, or “There are too many choices on the menu!” And then you have the third world problems such as "I fear for my life constantly and my brother was just abducted by the 'free democratic peoples party' while searching for clean water." Think about that for a minute next time your telling someone in detail about the rash on your inner arm every time you eat slightly unripe tomatoes.
I wonder if UNICEF and World Vision deal with a lot of cases of mild food allergies when they supply food to famine ravaged and starving war-torn areas. I am going to go out on a malnourished limb and say no. I am presuming the hierarchy of needs kicks in faster then you can cook a pack of two-minute noodles between meals.
The Fruitarians of the world are ruining my BBQ. No, I have not catered for people who only eat fruit that has fallen from the tree, and yes the Soysages were cooked in the BBQ fat of real animals, that is the only way they are anyway tolerable. Don’t forget it was the late great Kurt Cobain who told us “It’s ok to eat fish, cause they don’t have any feelings.” I do have a box of BBQ shapes, a tub of hommus, and a copy of the book, “10 steps to being annoying at social events,” if you would like to accompany me to the special people corner.
If people are going to insist on ruining my meal with detailed descriptions of their terribly feeble afflictions, perhaps that is the done thing. If that’s the case then allow me to get some payback... While you were eating your Christmas trifle, I hope you remembered that jelly is made from the hooves of horses, one of which may have been named black beauty just like the one you rode as a child that time on holidays. The turkey you carved up was named Denis. He preferred corn over grain and loved the morning sun. And finally the ham, let us stop and think of Babe – a pig in the city, trucked to the city then covered in apple sauce. Payback is a beach, and that is where I spent Christmas, eating a Black Beauty Trifle, Babe and applesauce roll, and a cranberry Denis without any minor allergic reactions.
Jonathan is an MX reader who does not tolerate your lack of tolerance
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Googlebook Plus
This week I cheated in my social media relationship. I just had to tell Facebook, "I'm seeing someone else." We talked, we yelled, we cried, I explained it just happened, Google Plus is younger, has new trendy circles and all my friends love hanging out with her. I was also worried that Facebook was following me around when I wasn't with her, keeping tabs on me so she new what to get me for Christmas and could sell things to my friends. This freaked me out a little, talk about putting the "IT" in “Rabbit cooker.”
It is a big decision to move social media provider, a lot like moving house across the city to another suburb. You first of all want to check that some of your friends live out that way and that you won't be completely isolated, so you jump on the new site and see which friends are part of the early adopter, bleeding edge uptake initiators. It is usually the type A personality friends, with a dash of ADD who, when you say have found this great bar in the city," will always comment how they used to go there last year when it opened and was trendy.
In any new suburb, you are going to want to check out the restaurants, sports facilities and public transport. With a social media site, it is all about the applications, usability, and interoperability with hand held devices. On this front I rate the Google Plus application very highly, however when it comes to activity and people logged in and adding content, I give it a big fat Google minus. It may have circles, but definitely doesn't run rings around anything at all.
After trialling Google Plus I have come to the conclusion that it is like moving to a trendy new one-bedroom apartment with no furniture and no address. The old Facebook from back in the day may stalk us when we leave her, may track our location. It may send a banner add barrage of target marketing at me depending on my profile, status, likes, and check-ins, but all my friends are there and it is always has activity and updates. It has reached a level of critical mass, which will not easily be challenged or toppled. Somehow I have more friends on Facebook then friends IRL (in real life)
Switching networks did provide a good opportunity to trim the friendship fat and reinvent myself without having to D-Friend people. "What comes after ABC Friend? Yes, de-friend, the cyber equivalent of throwing a hissy fit or e-tanty.
Facebook is a great way to set up a shrine to self, a narcissistic temple to let the world know "I spilt Champagne on my Rolex watch in the members area at the Races, lucky its water resistant to 1000m." Keeping up with the Joneses used to be confined to the same street, now the Joneses all have smart phones and are constantly posting pictures of their X6 Diesel towing Jet Skis…bastards!
So I am breaking up with Google minus and going back to old faithful Facebook. She may track me on the web, but what can I say, you and 20 million others “Like” Facebook.
Jonathan is an MX reader who may have D-friended you already
It is a big decision to move social media provider, a lot like moving house across the city to another suburb. You first of all want to check that some of your friends live out that way and that you won't be completely isolated, so you jump on the new site and see which friends are part of the early adopter, bleeding edge uptake initiators. It is usually the type A personality friends, with a dash of ADD who, when you say have found this great bar in the city," will always comment how they used to go there last year when it opened and was trendy.
In any new suburb, you are going to want to check out the restaurants, sports facilities and public transport. With a social media site, it is all about the applications, usability, and interoperability with hand held devices. On this front I rate the Google Plus application very highly, however when it comes to activity and people logged in and adding content, I give it a big fat Google minus. It may have circles, but definitely doesn't run rings around anything at all.
After trialling Google Plus I have come to the conclusion that it is like moving to a trendy new one-bedroom apartment with no furniture and no address. The old Facebook from back in the day may stalk us when we leave her, may track our location. It may send a banner add barrage of target marketing at me depending on my profile, status, likes, and check-ins, but all my friends are there and it is always has activity and updates. It has reached a level of critical mass, which will not easily be challenged or toppled. Somehow I have more friends on Facebook then friends IRL (in real life)
Switching networks did provide a good opportunity to trim the friendship fat and reinvent myself without having to D-Friend people. "What comes after ABC Friend? Yes, de-friend, the cyber equivalent of throwing a hissy fit or e-tanty.
Facebook is a great way to set up a shrine to self, a narcissistic temple to let the world know "I spilt Champagne on my Rolex watch in the members area at the Races, lucky its water resistant to 1000m." Keeping up with the Joneses used to be confined to the same street, now the Joneses all have smart phones and are constantly posting pictures of their X6 Diesel towing Jet Skis…bastards!
So I am breaking up with Google minus and going back to old faithful Facebook. She may track me on the web, but what can I say, you and 20 million others “Like” Facebook.
Jonathan is an MX reader who may have D-friended you already
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)