Wednesday, December 30, 2009

Composed When Composing

So this will most likely be my last one for this year and my first for a little while now, for both of those I have reasons for. There have been a multitude of things going on this last fortnight, I am sure that it has been like that for most around the world, however, there still have been times where it’s been necessary for certain thoughts to be suppressed and times where they have needed to be squeezed out, hence why blog material has been in the lacking and I also now have an idea as to what this dying year should see from this blog's exit from the current decade.

Me? I read many blogs, some that reach a more profound level of sincerity than this one ever has, but one thing I tend to always notice that those people do wrong with some of their posts, often making it hard for me to even return, is that you can tell that they had written them while under the nasty intoxication of anger. Ideally this would be fine, but unfortunately as humans, our moods have a tendency to overcome us and when an angry one strikes, we, and by ‘we’ I refer to humans, are notorious for reacting quite over-dramatically and when in such a state, you're better off sleeping on the dissertations for the day, if you ask me. Take it from me, negative feelings can often reflect poorly on the sentimental quality of your emotions and the words you use to express them. So about my posts or lack thereof - when I am angry, I’m as over-dramatic as humanly possible, this is why I haven’t posted too much of late. Despite having written a lot privately, I have been struggling to birth something that I feel comfortable about others reading, not because of the content but more the bad mood I was in when writing the pieces. You see, in light of my past dramaticisms, a year ago when creating this site, I made it a strict rule not to write when I’m not feeling as composed as I could be, I mean, I wasn’t prepared to create a blog to fill it with what I’ve dreaded reading on other peoples blogs, that would be illogical. It’s just my method of prevention, I don’t wish for anyone to switch on the page and see paragraphs of insults or to see how utterly miserable something has made me with no resolve, nor do I want to wake up the next morning in the hangover of moody-writing only to read paragraphs of profanity and self-sympathy. So I suggest that you consider that when you find yourself about to post, ask yourself: Was I composed when composing?

The reason as to why this might be the last post date-stamped ‘2009’ is for similar reasons. This year I haven’t been the happiest of campers, hence why I have been hiding my thoughts, although, I must admit that I am very pleased with how my Christmas has turned out. So as a result of my vocal struggle, there is now a good list of different things I need to get off my chest (and off of my incomplete blog list) which were notes that I really didn’t want to end the year on, and more importantly, the decade. Leaving it negatively, especially with the recent Christmas season, really isn’t what I want, written angrily or not.

So ‘09, I don’t have too much more to say for it really. Although not a lot has changed, I am beginning to take some of the things that have worried me into my stride and all the other things I will deal with in due time, so for now I will just say that I hope you had a great Christmas and that you have a fantastic New Years.

Saturday, December 19, 2009

The Prescript Life of a False Persona

I have a theory about the lives of certain characters in the run of a storyline, however, it particularly refers to the main characters and the life they lead prior to (and lead after) the beginning of that story; it applies to the majority of the books, motion-pictures and TV shows that are available to date. The theory simply states that most characters in a story lead somewhat unfulfilling and boring lives in the time that they do not spend in front of our eyes, which I feel misrepresents real-life. In the scripted life of any character, life is a segment, not a flow of events that we experience in reality.

Trying to explain this and then back it up with an example is not an easy task as most narratives vary and some tend to even attempt to cover themselves of this in some fashion, however, the best I think I can come up with is the action-drama television series 24. For those that aren’t familiar with this series (god forbid), this show in its early stages was semi-enjoyable, despite the fact that it’s always been a total crock in terms of characteristic realism, not to mention in terms of anything else. 24 is a show which follows a government agent, who seems to always be on his cell phone when he is meant to be driving, through a day jam-packed with events. Each season denotes one day, twenty-four episodes are in each of those seasons, each representing an hour in that day. Reason that this example does not perfectly back-up my point is because major changes seem to always be happening in between each season, however where the realism is not so strong is the fact that it is very segmentary in the way that any other crime seems to be at a stand-still during one of these seasons, and for an extensive government agency, not one person seems to be working on anything else other than this one case, like whenever Jack Bauer isn’t hunting down some terrorist-mastermind the agency might as well just close until he gets over his depression or gets pardoned out of prison and shaves that funky beard (all of which was done in the span of ten minutes, by the way).

Realistically, our lives generally smoothen out and things happen over time, however in the life of a character in its entirety, everything only seems to happen in a small fraction of their fictional lives and then they live ‘happily ever after’. Often I notice in television pilot episodes that everybody has conversations like they have just met or like one of them has been on one big overseas holiday for a few years which has prevented them from conversing about past events, it’s usually a conversation that builds the premise for some sort of story arc or something else particular to that character’s past, however, it would turn out that they have remained in close proximity and have been friends with these people long enough for an opportunity other than the one shown in the pilot episode to have such conversations; this is where 24 managed to cover themselves somewhat, in the pilot and the first episodes of the following seasons.

I have no real issue with it, it’s just a theory of mine that I think will always be what prevents a writer from truly capturing life in its most sedulous form. So, unfortunately when you are dealing with the limitation of a time slot or your words on a notepad, there is only so little time to demonstrate so much about a character.

Saturday, December 12, 2009

A Few Things

Just a few small things that have been my mind lately.

Horror Movies are a group activity
I am more of a comedy/ drama guy when it comes to films, but on the odd occasion that I find myself watching a bunch of teens smoking weed out in the bush only puffs away from being gutted, a guy in a contorting-contraption that is literally dividing each bone in his body or even a woman being raped by mutated-males just so that she can shoot out a mutant baby of her own, I feel that those moments are better enjoyed with company than on my lonesome like it’s some personal montage of muscle-clinching instances. It isn’t a fear thing, but I prefer to stomach such horror with someone that is going through the exact same psychological trauma that I am going through, that’s all.

Slang regarding Food
I have discovered that I love any term related to food. Some of my personal favourites:
  • Peckish (meaning ‘somewhat hungry’)
  • Chow Down
  • Polish off a box of…
  • Devour
  • Attack
Flavoured Milk on Soy?
Gladys and I came up with this one: We know that it is possible to buy it in a carton from the supermarket, but we were a bit puzzled as to why chilled flavoured milks in a bottle were only available in light milk as an alternative to full-cream, however, not available in a soy alternative. So subsequent to this mystery, in the imaginary land that is our brains, we plan to open a company, much like Oak and Moove, with the typical flavours of Chocolate, Strawberry and Ice Coffee, however, to serve those that make up the fragment of the population that have issues with the digestion of lactose.

One-on-one beats all
My social abilities are much-like writing a script, I prefer only two people in the conversation, including myself, that way there is less people to keep track of and therefore less chance of interruption in the overall flow of a potentially fantastic conversation. I always feel like more can be achieved as the conversation remains on more of a personal level, whereas with a group, things said are more like announcements than spoken-words between friends, therefore things are always left unsaid and bottled.

Aldi & IKEA
How many people are these foreign companies hiring? These places are sometimes below understaffed. In Aldi, I have literally walked in and there has been one checkout-chick and that’s it, almost like that day on the roster was just blank with the exception of her name; I am serious, that simple guy unpacking boxes you would usually find at Woolworths was nowhere to be seen, not one person was just walking around looking busy, like you would see in any store. At times it has gotten to the point where I have become more intent on seeking out assistance than I did in finding the item I was initially looking for.

Rappers without anything to say
Two things that really grind my bones when I am listening to music, rap in particular:
  • I am sick of hearing black guys talk about how once upon a time they hardly had any respect and only a few dollars to their name, and now they have more money and respect than a god. One person said it in a song and that was enough, now some artists find it hard not to include how they went from rags to riches in a song; it’s sure to become the new ‘yo, yo’ phrase that they say before each track.
  • “I’ve got my mind on my money and my money on my mind” This is not a lyric! It’s a clever way of stating a somewhat obvious and general fact. Tell me, excluding Buddhists, what person doesn’t have their mind on their money, not to mention rappers?
Stickers that Elvis had issues with
So, it’s the 21st century, and most of everything that we use day-to-day is usually a refined version of its predecessor, we have learnt from our mistakes, new materials are being used and new methods of how those materials should be manufactured have been discovered, however, it would seem that there is one minute intricacy of our daily use which has managed to remain impervious to our advancements over the last century: those damn stickers that come on newly purchased items. For some reason, nobody has invented an affordable sticker which won’t leave a sticky residue when you try to take it off of your CD cover; I am still waiting.

Fictional Wedding Day Clichés
Every time I see a wedding scene in a film or on TV I am just like ‘here we go’ then I follow it with a roll of the eyes, I can always just taste something about to happen when I see that church. It would seem that writers don’t know that people actually have normal, successful wedding ceremonies. This is the usual formula for these clichéd fictional-weddings: The priest, the groom and the rest of them are waiting at the altar, they play that song which has never been played at a wedding I have attended, and then the bride walks down, if she showed up of course - you can’t forget that milestone. So she’s at the altar, he’s at the altar and of course then some guy shows up and everybody must STOP THE CEREMONY AND LISTEN TO ME, I am only seconds away from whipping out some eloquent, ceremony-ending speech about love, I mean someone correct me if I am wrong, but is this happening as frequently as it does in the fictional universe, if at all? Who here reading this right now would wait til the wedding day to profess their feelings only to look like some douche in front of a congregation of people to a woman that looks to me like she has already made up her mind? Anyway, some of my favourite movies have this scene, usually at the end, but the next time I walk into a cinema and see this, I may just walk out, especially if she ends up with the guy not wearing the groom’s outfit.

Wednesday, December 2, 2009

Ten Missed Calls

I’m not clingy, unless of course the situation calls for it. You see, there are two types of people, the clingy and the not so clingy, but you see, there are also these people that do this thing, I see it as the coward’s outlet of an easy escape, only problem is that this methodology can turn even the not so clingy into full-blown stalkers, it’s called avoiding. When you aren’t replying to messages, when you are letting calls ring-out in the hopes that it’ll be the last or even when you just pass by without a sign of acknowledgement, what do you expect to happen? This is the thing I fail to apprehend. In lieu of just being forthright with people, others are willing to make things worse and cause trouble as a tool used to get rid of people.

As I said, I don’t consider myself to be generally clingy, but I know in myself that naturally if somebody isn’t replying to my messages that I will most likely message again in a few days, maybe even that day, if a call goes unanswered that I will try again, and if somebody ignores me out on the street that…well, the amount of calls I’d be making to that person would have just multiplied considerably; are you catching what I am trying to demonstrate here? Understand that if you are one of those who has tried to avoid someone presuming that they will just give up eventually, those people, at least for a while, are just going to persist further, it’s a little like a shell that is stuck to a rock with a creature still living in it (a Patella vulgate, to be all technical), think of it like you’re the creature, at first you would only be grasping onto that surface with neutral pressure, but once somebody comes along and tries to pull you and your shell off of it, you grasp harder, and then when they try again straight after, you grasp even tighter. See? The thing is, the more you grasp onto that rock under your little coward sanctuary that is the shell, the more someone is going to want and try to take you off of that rock, and then you’ve only created this little vicious cycle for yourself, whereas you could have just ended it all forty messages ago with a f*** off, you are annoying me, although, make sure that you rephrase that in the nicest possible way, I am not condoning that sort of approach – if you do, you might as well slash their wrists for them.

I’ve been on both the receiving and the giving end in this situation. Being completely truthful, I once served an ex-girlfriend at work that treated me exactly like I was just another employee at that place, I have also had friendships and even relationships end simply because they began to avoid, some of which have succeeded and I haven’t heard from in years. Some have indeed won with me, one day I have just thrown down my phone and decided that it was the last time that I was going to try, but I spent a little more than a few months trying, believe me, I am the type of guy that if I don’t understand something or if I need a few questions answered that I am willing to go out of my way in order to culminate that desire for affirmation, so don’t be a douche. So when the tables have turned and it’s come down to me befriending somebody that has dropped a few too many messages my way, I can honestly say that I have never just begun to avoid someone, unless there has been some form of discrepancy. I could never just abruptly leave somebody hanging over there phone for three months waiting for a call that will never come, I have always been upfront, and usually pretty promptly too; the earlier the better, I say. So, if I can do it, and I am still alive and still friends with those that I have had a talk with, why can’t you? I have always gone into one of these conversations completely aware that I am potentially putting a nasty negative above my head and will possibly be called an arsehole for as long as I see this person and their friends, but I have jumped into it anyway, and every time without fail, the clinginess has consequently subsided and the negative name-calling has worn off in less than weeks. So with all of that being said and my experience with it now out there, let’s weigh the options: When I have let people know when they are being a little intrusive, any negativity to my name and anything else regarding the situation has washed away within a week, however, when someone has avoided me and I have been forced to be clingy myself, well, let’s just say that it’s been years since and I can’t even envision a scenario where I will ever even share a look with these people ever again; which one is more appealing to you? At the moment it would seem that people prefer years and years of tension and ill-loathing.

So finally, a piece of advice, coming from somebody that can empathise with both parties, silence can hurt and scar a lot deeper than being straight-out ever could, as long as it’s done correctly. Just know that, in order to avoid questions, you keep them answered, and if you don’t want to ever pick up your phone again with ten missed calls on the display, then you answer that first one. Its simple logic, so grow some fucking fortitude and don’t be so horrible to those that enjoy your company.

Tuesday, December 1, 2009

You're Not Alone


Usually I wouldn't post media and such but this video, although just a promotional for The Biography Channel, is inexcusable in excellence. Artistically it lays out a good fraction of the stages, milestones and water-cooler conversations that have occurred within recent western history, be it death, revolution or petty gossip; it's a beautiful demonstration of those that have made some sort of impression in the last fifty years.

Monday, November 30, 2009

The Art in Departure


If you live in Ramsay Street,
keep out of the bush!



Girls wear make-up to impress boys;
Boys wear tattoos to impress girls.*


Owning a Danger powered device is a kick to the Side.**


Getting off of a bus well puts the
art in departure.


There is the possible,
and then there is getting Who’s The Boss? season two on DVD.


Only one faith drives Toyota Taragos.


*Smartest thing I have ever heard somebody with a mullet say.
**Pun Inten...Woops, Danger software does not allow you to finish
that sentence. Sorry for the inconvenience.

<-- Previous: Futon is Fondue

Thursday, November 19, 2009

Alone

Today is Thursday, that’s actually quite amusing, the memory of the last time that I actually did something with friends is quite vague, that might be because it was last Friday. Looks like I can safely declare myself a loner, a forced one at that. The cause for this proclamation of negativity, as I sit slumped in my chair, is the fact that I am depressed about it, not heavily, just a little, because to put it simply, I am not built to be this way, alone that is. I am not a one-man show, I need some lots of consistent social stimulation, fuck, I need some friends, and I have no idea how to go about getting them.

For those that didn’t know me before, let me tell you what I once had - I used to have multiple best friends, a handful of people that I was able to message and plan something spontaneously within hours and whatever was planned would be a success, I used to have a group who I could laugh with and be funny, I had a friend whose house I could sleep at for nights at a time, it was like a second home to me, I had friends that would turn up at my door at strange hours, I had a handful of people that I could’ve planned a party with days before, I had a bunch of people that I would do things with almost every night, and not one Friday or Saturday night was spent alone unless I chose to, and this was, at most, while I was at school five days a week. Evidently, those days have passed for me, since that bunch of great mates have departed, I have never been able to reform an adequate bundle of people that are able unlock that treasure chest that keeps me happy, I just have a few people here and there that hardly call and because of that, just to plan something in even a few weeks time means me messaging several different people without success, it means sitting at home Friday and Saturday night bored out of my mind, it’s midnight rides on my bike to nowhere, it means that I no longer have any stories to tell other people, I have no body’s house to crash at when I am in a certain area, no body that I can just call and speak to; I feel as if I have no one, and this is while I’ve been taking the year off to hang out and relax; ironic, right? The friends I actually do have, which consists of only one male, are always too busy with study or too tied up with other people so it’s virtually impossible to grow close with anyone, no matter how eager I am, as I said, I have virtually been home in front of this screen for six days now, with the exception of eight hours of work and when I went out to get a few things.

I bet I know what you’re saying ‘Just go out and make some friends’, if only it were that simple. It has now become clear to me that, now that all of this has happened, I have no idea how to make new friends, not that I am saying I can’t, I didn’t do too badly for myself back then, I mean I am a very conversational person, a good flowing conversation is like sex to me, and because of that, I can make friends with anyone as long as the activity calls for it, by that I mean, work mates at a new job, weekend sport, pushing weights in gaol, whatever, but when it comes to things like saying hello in lines at the supermarket or a how’s it going? while getting a drink at a bar I have recently discovered that I am atrocious. I can do it, of course, I have no qualms with going up to a girl and speaking to her, but what if she sees it as a pick-up or what if I want to befriend a guy? This is where my social issue lies. You’re probably also saying to yourself ‘But he did it before?’, I actually didn’t, you see, every friendship I have ever had I have fallen ass backwards into, they have either been friends of friends, work mates, school mates, family friends, and the reason that this method is now failing me after so long is because of this social life I no longer have, in other words, you need friends to have friends of friends and I am shit out of them; it’s a vicious circle with a slap in the face half way through.

So, I started a new job and started sailing on the weekends, both of which have given me next to nothing in the friend department; what to do, what to do. I realise that the alarm bells are ringing and that it’s time to stop pussy-footing around, complaining and being unhappy about how socially under stimulated I am, I just have to work out how to meet new people without a middle-man introducing me, like I’ve been used to. It looks as if I have a bit of a battle ahead of me, I think.

Tuesday, November 17, 2009

Facebook-ing & Paranoid

If you are paranoid about people knowing things about you, then delete your Facebook account. Some people that I know are majorly paranoid about their information getting loose yet they have a Facebook profile to their name, funny I should say that because one of which is so paranoid that she can’t even bring herself to disclose her surname, which is ironic as Facebook’s database of full names is a signatory feature of the service, a matter of fact, she is so paranoid that I sent an SMS asking her for the name and I was forced to prove that it was indeed me who was using my number in order to get an answer from her. Why somebody with paranoia that extends to that magnitude would join a site which makes use of thing called a lifestream and is purely designed so that everybody knows what you are up to when, I don’t understand why you would join in the first place; just delete it.


Monday, November 16, 2009

The Music Industry

I just downloaded Harvey Danger’s third studio album Little by Little… – for free – off of their website, and it got me reading their explanation as to why they were doing it and it brought up some thoughts from back when Minutes to Midnight by Linkin Park got leaked before its release. So now it begs the question, is the music industry surviving the holocaust of sales that is peer-to-peer music sharing?

More realistically, are our beloved musical artists now depending on and grasping tighter onto live concerts and guest-appearances to compensate for lost numbers, as opposed to what they release to Compact Disc where the sales should be coming from? Logically, judging from the considerable difference in cost between walking into an entertainment venue and walking into a record store, I would assume that the most money has always come from live entertainment, I mean when The Beatles were around, they did shows for Queen Elizabeth II, but does this advancement into the future have musicians breaking a sweat about ticket sales in lieu of record sales?

The downloading of music is illegal, yet socially acceptable, but only because it wouldn’t be easy enforcing that law. I download…everything. Let’s put it this way, my music library is nearing two thousand songs, my physical CD rack has fifteen albums on it; yes, I am quite ashamed. To my defence though, most of the albums on that rack were initially downloaded and listened to but were then subsequently bought by me in the act of support years later. So when Harvey Danger said that ‘plenty of music lovers in the world will buy a record once they’ve heard it’, I am semi-righteous in that sense, and who knows, one day I may walk into a store and decide to grab a copy of Little by Little… or Day & Age by The Killers or any other album that I downloaded and loved in the same act of donation when I was buying the other albums, but let’s just say that I don’t, am I, and everyone else who has done this, crippling what is essentially people’s careers? Record sale figures aren’t exactly the most full-proof way of finding out; they differ from album-to-album for all types of reasons. However, it would seem that each time a big artist is bringing out an album in a week’s time, it gets leaked onto the internet and it is quite easy to find someone that possesses a music library much like mine, which is a clear enough indication to me that this is a growing problem, I might even go as far to say that most of the people with an internet connection has some sort of illegal collection of tracks. In that light, kudos to those that spend their change on iTunes music cards and such, but that springs some more thoughts.

I love the effect that technology has on our lives, but on music, not so much. Paid downloading is something that I refuse to contribute to. It seems to be the way the industry is dealing with illegal downloads, which in part, I have contributed to such a change, but it’s probably the only part of technology that I am not so happy with. When I pay for music, sure the tracks are what I want, but it’s also that physical element, the experience even - waiting months and months, finally walking into the record store to see the same album cover you’ve seen in your dreams sitting five-times on the shelf, holding that case with that name on it, flipping through that booklet with those people in it with art that those same people created, the album logo filling that empty space on your CD rack; the click of a link just doesn’t have that same effect on me, unfortunately. You see, some people may say that this is thinking far down the track, but the existence of things like the iTunes music store and the fact that I can no longer walk into a JB Hi-Fi and purchase a music single indicates to me that this ball has already begun rolling.

“Whether or not people will buy something they can get for free is obviously a big question, and there are facts and figures to support both sides of the argument.” This is why I ask these questions. I don’t believe that people will ever stop making music, but as time progresses, will what we call the music industry further age until it no longer has any money value? I mean, the money means nothing to me, but if that time comes, will it mean that all of our rich pop stars will pack up shop (which would please me) or will it mean that even our good musicians will seem less prominent, not gone, but perhaps harder to find (which would please me less)? If that were to happen, then money would have a more considerable meaning to me. As well as this, in fifty years time, I don’t want clicking a link on an online music store to be the closest we can get to physically pulling out a booklet full of album art about the songs that I would be listening to at that exact moment, I want that slot filled on my CD rack, even if it’s filled on my media player too. I may be a serial-downloader, but for those bands that I am actually willing to empty my wallet out for, I don’t want MP3 to supersede the disc, just like CD did to vinyl. At the cause of what I have done and how technology helps us do what I have done, I fear for the music industry’s future.

Friday, November 13, 2009

My Bread & Marbles

I had this friend, I have seen her everywhere; she’s been a customer at work, a girl coming out of a pub restroom in the city, but at second glance, she has been a bunch of girls that aren’t actually her. It’s peculiar, for someone that I haven’t seen for years, I’ve seen quite a lot of, and I am not too sure why.

A girl on the opposite side of the road - I was fourteen and she was my best friend and maybe my only friend at the time. She was the type to walk around with a short-skirt, liquid-thick eyeliner and black-stained hair. Thing was, she was a user, in all the ways that you could imagine, she wasn’t healthy and you could probably say the same for our friendship. Confidently, I could state that the friendship that spawned itself in 2005 and withered away the following year was the time where, with her, I met all the people and built all the foundations that have made me the person I am today. So as a result of this augmented version of myself that was born that year, I grew some sense and ended it, and I haven’t seen her since she was committed to hospital around that same time.

A commuter on a passing train - This is the thing, as far as I know, I don’t miss her, I’m not hung up on her, our friendship ended way past it’s expiry date so I have no regrets, so why is it that when I see someone that looks as if they have dressed for a sexy-funeral, like she always did, that I start to freeze up at the thought that it is in fact this girl from my past. Perhaps, I am thinking too far into it as I always do; it might just be that between each member of this dark subculture that the attire of each individual is much alike, or even just the fact that, between her and the rest of the people that I once held close, she is the only one that I fail to bump into on the street. Who knows? Who cares, really? It makes no difference to my life.

That girl in the group photo - I guess having these previews of what it’d be like to be face-to-face with her is just a shock to my system, seeing someone that I was so close to and that I disposed of so quickly such a long time ago. Since last seeing her, I’ve pretty much forgotten about her, but for these brief moments, I am reminded that she ever existed, it hits me pretty hard. To be quite honest, with the way things ended and the way I suspect things are in her life, I would prefer to leave the past in the past and keep seeing these imposters, because the day that I am actually staring into her eyes, I’d be staring into the print of a chapter in my life that she wrote and that I concluded, and I want that chapter to remain at that conclusion.

Wednesday, November 4, 2009

Issues with Tissues

We all have our idiosyncrasies, those little characteristics and habits that are particular to our day-to-day lives, some good and some bad. I consider myself to be quite idiosyncratic, aside from your usual page three fear of heights, clowns, spiders and whatever else, I am quite picky in the activities I involve myself in and how I do them.

Tissue Phobia
I know myself that this belongs in first – I avoid tissues, always have. It isn’t a germ thing, clean tissues bother me too. It’s that soft, flaccid ply of paper that can be torn apart, soaked and fused together into a ball; describing it to you right now is even making me a little ill. It’s been a prominent issue since before I can remember. At the behest of this phobia, I am forced to make use of hankies, as it is my only option. It’s not only restricted to tissues either; when I was younger I would often eat at Red Rooster, and there would be those little wet towelettes and they would similarly make me want to be sick; what a disgusting invention. Serviettes are fine as long as they remain dry, that goes the same for paper.

Public Pools and Beaches
Public pools is another big one – I don’t take public pools very well. I don’t know about you, but I don’t enjoy swimming in water that hasn’t been changed in months which is the home to thousands upon thousands of other people’s filth, fuck that! If I wanted to unintentionally swallow a mouthful of somebody else’s piss and step on used bandaids, I’d go stick a used needle in my arm. School was the worst with forcing me into a pool, I am a fine swimmer but if the pool isn’t in someone’s backyard or in a complex of units or hotel rooms, you most likely won’t find me in it.

Going to the beach isn’t such a big deal. I love going to the beach with mates, and to me, nothing beats sitting on the sand and watching the waves crash. What I have always had an issue with, however, are those beaches that have moored boats just behind the waves, most likely leaking out oil and other chemicals, or some old sewerage (most likely no longer running I will add) pipe running into the surf (one of our Sydney beaches have this), like I said I can think of other fun and colourful ways to get diseases.

Can I have a sip of that?
Ah, no. It’s called meningococcal, and it sounds awesome and all but it doesn’t appeal to me, so I try my hardest not to share drinks.

Twenty-Minute Late Rule
It would seem that I have befriended every chronically-tardy person in Sydney, and for that, I came up with the twenty-minute rule. Only applied to those that I deem notoriously late, the rule is simple: If our meeting place is a place other than my home, if the person has not communicated to me that they would be late and if they have not shown up within twenty minutes of the time that we were meant to meet, I leave and consider myself ditched, no questions asked. At times I have broken the rule and called them on the twenty minute mark and then ended up staying, but for a select few I haven’t been so generous.

Boxers and Briefs…together
Yerp, I wear both…together. Well, I am slowly phasing out this unnecessary habit and am making good use of trunks, but for years now I had always worn both. The way I saw it was, the briefs would offer me the support and protection I required and the boxers would allow me to comfortably wear my clothes over my underwear. I know it’s strange and to be truthful, I can’t really justify it.

'BEEP, BEEP'
I am a guy that loves his cereal. I can have it no matter what time it is (like Jerry Seinfeld). I also find it boring just eating one cereal at a time; I usually mix every cereal that I can find in the pantry. My standard bowl contains Weet-Bix, Nutri-Grain, Honey and one or two bananas, but it varies at times. Although sometimes I eat my cereal cold in the summer, I have always found that the intricacies of my cereal bowl in the morning are better enjoyed hot (and not just the milk; everything), especially in, but not restricted to, the winter. I guess I got the idea from porridge, but pin pointing a definite reason or even the age in which I began microwaving my cereal would be difficult.

Fear of Cows
Just kidding. This is my mother’s doing - I am a soy drinker, but I am in no way lactose intolerant. My only intolerance with dairy is the way that it causes me to have minor cold symptoms, and I suspect it has been the culprit behind some of my flus, so as long as I have thirty cents more in my wallet, I can easily avoid it.

Peas and my fake disease
My gosh, I have an ill-loathing for peas. Tissues and dirty beach pipes may only be enough for me to dry-reach but peas have actually been successful in being spat out with the rest of the meals I’d eaten that day. I am not a foodie like some are, but personally when I am eating texture can sometimes become a more distinctive trademark than taste is in some cases, and this solidly applies to my hate for peas. That little squishy burst of whatever the hell it is in my mouth, I can’t stand it, its torture. Love corn; hate peas.

Problem with this is, I also like my fried rice, and what does fried rice commonly have in it? Peas! Usually I have no trouble with asking for fried rice without them, plus it usually means that they will make a specialty batch for me which improves the dish, but on the odd occasion that I get refused (which has happened!), I have been lost-for-words mid-argument; this is where my fake legume disease was born. Even though I know that legume diseases only in normal cases extend as far as peanuts, but what I do know, however, is that if I were to be in their position, I wouldn’t want to be arguing with someone that claims to have a disease, I mean, the cost of making a new batch of fried rice is considerably less than a loss of business and a discrimination lawsuit if you ask me.

Right, right, right
When telling long stories, I am often told that I say ‘right’ a lot at the end of a sentence, for example, ‘So I just said whatever and got into the car, right?, right? It’s a bad habit, and I think that I do it just to make sure that you are still following.

Food of the sea and boneless meat
I am what you might call a poultrarian. Basically, I have never eaten seafood and now as a result, if the meat didn’t breathe air, then I don’t eat it; once again, my parent’s fault, not that they don’t love their seafood. I also prefer to eat meats that don’t have bones in them, but it’s simply just an ease-of-eating thing so it isn’t a big deal.

Fear of Heights
Any need to explain? Looking out the window of a plane has never bothered me and I do one day want to skydive but when it comes to looking down that little gap at the centre of stairwells or looking straight up at skyscrapers, I get a bit tense and a little dizzy.

Right?

Sunday, November 1, 2009

McJanitor

I have a big problem with fast-food employees. When I see someone sporting a McDonalds, KFC, or any other fast-food corporation’s logo, what I see is laziness, and the fact that it’s difficult to walk into one of the aforementioned food outlets and point out someone that isn’t currently going through puberty denotes a growing laziness among today’s youth. It goes janitor, garbage collector and then fast-food employee; it doesn’t get much lower than that. My question is, when there is an array of alternate jobs available out there, why do kids still insist on whoring themselves out for six dollars an hour only to do what every other bite-sized minion of this don't-give-a-shit generation has done before them, in other words, be lazy?

I’m not saying that I am some intellectual, I’m not even saying that when it has come to job hunting myself that I have done so proactively, I haven’t, I myself have even looked for easy opportunities for jobs in times of numeric desperation just so that the tedious task would end, but nevertheless, it's still as easy as dropping in a resume and by doing just that I have had opportunities at casual positions that pay over twenty dollars an hour, so when it's that easy for me to earn such a considerable amount by just chucking a few pages around, then why have people gone 'ah well, I’ll just waste eight hours earning chump change'? It’s either people are just too stupid to realise or too lazy to take advantage of opportunities that are virtually being given away. The only excuse that I will ever accept is if you aspire to win yourself a managerial position in which on multiple occasions I have heard that McDonalds (to pick at one) gives great experience for future employment, and to those of which have chosen that path, I say good luck to you, but for a steady job, even if you gave me an excuse, I would still be stupefied.

It just goes to show what we are heading toward, a generation of kids who lack the initiative and attention-span to think for themselves; the creativity that is required to make a unique decision is beginning to get lost in the vague midst of teenagers that grow up in this country. I don't want to make the prediction that future employment will consequently be effected, like our big-time money makers, but I certainly won't rule this out as a reason if we have issues. So, to those that are out there shoveling fries or aren’t practicing customer service at a register in some oily shithole, go out and get a real job.

Friday, October 30, 2009

Heavy Drinkers

Random thought:  Since I began working in hospitality and since this country became so obsessed with water due to drought, I have always been curious as to how much water, in litres, is used in my single workplace in one single day? I would imagine that the number would be huge, and for what, to clean dirt off of our dishes, floors and hands? For water that is said to be so scarce, seems pretty petty in comparison. With that in mind, that thought was then followed by the amount of water that would be used by all the several restaurants in the entire suburb such as the one where I work; I mean if one outlet amounts largely, how much would thirty plus amount to? And that’s just Parramatta, how about Sydney City, or just Sydney in general. Then you have to add the households and the rest of it. Makes you think that there has to be some other way, doesn’t it.

Thursday, October 22, 2009

this girl

This girl, I don't really know who she is, and I don't really think that she knows who she is when in the eyes of others, most of all, though, she doesn't know what I see when I am looking at her, that's for sure. When I say 'really' in 'I don't really', it actually means that I think I have a pretty good idea, but that idea might be proven wrong, like I said, our friendship comes down to me knowing her first, middle and last name, knowing where she would rather be right now and who she would perhaps be better without, but I don't know her, like really, I just know what I think.

This girl, this is what I think about her. When looking into the mirror, she sees a speck, replace that mirror with me and I am looking at a boulder. This girl, she uses words like 'empty', 'bored', 'disappointing' and to sidekick her kicking her own arse, she belittles her existence by comparing herself with objects of no substance. She sees everything by looking up and consequently misjudges her own worth. Her happiness is reliant on what others think, that same happiness hungers for prospects she is unable to find, she seeks approval and independence but feels that she is losing her grasp on those two things. Post-to-post, she gets lost in her music titles and is left undiscovered beneath her own fears.

So, this girl, she doesn't understand what I know, or at least what I think I know. This is why I write this, why I am identifying a girl which I know no hard facts about. It's because at every glance I take at the girl, I see a person that is contrary to the one that is spoken of in every blog that she posts. To me she isn't the failure she thinks she is, but how do you tell someone that without them taking it as a friend being nice when in fact I am just a friend being honest? This is why I write this, it's why it has been waning on my mind of late. I mean, the fact that she would never come to me for support doesn't help, it would certainly open up the opportunity for these things to be articulated in a more private manner.

This girl, I know that she's hurting; I know that she is at a pit stop she doesn't want to be at, but if only she would come to me for support, seek some consolation in my general direction just for me to show her that she isn't what her blogs claim that she is. I'm not saying that I'm the only single-digit that has but I've seen that face, and I want it to be looking at me and telling me that the next blog post will be about how grounded things are and about how fantastic things are becoming for her life and her emotions; all I need is some fuel to attempt to make that happen for someone so great, such as this girl.

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

The Black Plague 2.0

I consider myself to be quite tech savvy so I won’t bash too hard on those that aren’t, but honest to god, some things just come down to common sense, regardless of if it’s displayed on a computer screen or not.

The internet is a breeding ground for exploitation; this is why Anti-virus companies are in business. People are clever in how they pull people in, very clever. I find that they play on your fears and your desires, for example, virginal teenagers would love to have a tool which lets them know who has blocked them on their IM application, and people would panic at the site of their screen when something like this or this comes up. With the exception of the hoax advertisements, this is why we call these things viruses, because they spread in the exact same fashion a virus would in the real-world and, this is the part that bothers me, when we see them spread we have nobody else to blame but ourselves, I mean, the creators do just that, they code it, package it and send it off to one person and then it goes nuts, from one stupid person to the next, like a virtual domino effect of mindless mouse-clicking. I must ask why this is happening; I cannot stress that question enough.

The MSN Block Checker is the best example I personally can think of. Now, any techy that is an MSN/ Live user would know that the lists of who is actually online and who is offline was made virtually inaccessible on the MSN servers due to improved privacy features as far back as when I was starting high school (2003), unless of course if they are online on your contact list, which defeats the purpose entirely; this act of checking who on your contact list has you blocked, which was once possible, is otherwise known as 'block checking'. The MSN Block Checker would simply embed itself into the skeleton of the messenger application and seamlessly (or not so seamless, not too sure) send out brief messages to your contacts (or what I call a virtual sneeze) with a link to a page to download the program which will then turn your computer into a new host. So to those that fell victim to this, look, I’m not too sure about your friends, but none of mine have ever started a conversation with "Hey! Have you tried MSN Block Checker? It's great - http://www.block-checker.com" and yet, with that fact in mind, you still continued to visit the site and hit download only to be the next person to be sending out the exact same virtual sneezes that roped you in initially. I must admit though, most unlike others that would just link you to a download file, Block Checker had an actual website (pictured here – I am pretty sure this is the one), small but quite convincing nevertheless, this would explain its success rate, but still no excuse.

Aside from that one in particular, MSN have had many less elaborate yet successful hoaxes of the same manner, same do websites with their aforementioned hoax virus warnings and even search engines that have picked up a site which uses tricky methods in getting you to type in your bank or credit card details and to hit submit; it’s all relative, and all the same it’s ridiculous that people are so easily convinced.

So it would seem that as technology continues to progress that our sound judgment is in slow regress. Evidently now in the year 2009, our common sense, or lack thereof, must now be utilised into web tools that our Microsofts and Googles implement as 'phishing filters'. Suddenly not only has technology’s advancements allowed us to send mail instantly to time zones away or be able to execute a task without any need of assistance, but now it would also seem that it is needed to tell us when an obvious fake is in fact a fake, I mean, come on? Although, these features maybe useful (don’t get me wrong), they are primarily there to prevent those of which cannot differentiate a pop-up advertisement from a program on their computer, and as a consequence, they are the ones who spread Trojans like it’s the sequel of The Black Plague.

Think of it this way, if you received a letter in the regular mail asking you to return it with one hundred dollars for home foundation repairs that they seem to be pretty sure that your home requires and if you don’t, your home will be at risk of collapse, would you send the money?

Sunday, October 11, 2009

People Will Read What They Want to Read

I’m just going to be straight out; I don’t appreciate it when people question the importance of this blog - bottom line is that it’s important to me. Never will I take kindly to those that belittle something that has become an outlet. There are things that I hold close to me and these posts are one of them.

I realise that writing and blogging what I write are two entirely separate things, and I realise that there are alternate methods of expressing the way I feel, but I write regardless and the way I see it is, if one were to write a novel, what good would it be if it didn’t get published? Also, don’t treat me like I am the minority either, some people paint and they post to an art site, others take photographs and they submit to a gallery site, I write and I submit to a weblog. So, to anyone that spends half their day posting brief, worthless shit to whothefuckcares.com, or are so utterly disinterested that they loiter around supermarkets like it’s some daily social gathering hall, when you’ve actually done something significant in your life that at least holds the substance that one of these sentences do, then you can give me a call and say things like “your blog is a waste of time” or “why do you bother?” But until then don’t think you have the right to insult the sentimentality that goes into being as vocal as I am. Things are better said out loud than bottled up.

Another thing: I have often heard the saying that it is impossible to please everyone, but I don't agree, I often discover that some people find it impossible to please themselves. The way I see it is people will read what they want to read, in other words, everyone interprets things differently. In saying that, I honestly love the negativity and enjoy reasonably delivered opposing opinions, but what people need to realise before hopping on their high-horse thinking that they are more than prepared to insult me and state that I’ve said something that I haven’t is that I put a lot of time into making sure that I don’t say something that I wouldn’t be able to defend in the event of a hostile, and that’s where they go wrong. What I am trying to say is, I am open to disagreement, I know that I need to be when stating opinion, but when you are commenting what you need to know is that there is a fine line between disagreeing and misquoting me, and if you don’t realise that then you are going to end up looking like an idiot, just like Anonymous did here.

I hope that I’m understood.

Thursday, October 1, 2009

Who Wants to Be a Nothing?

Among others, I have objections with the term ‘millionaire’. Since I was little I had heard the word and immediately questioned its accuracy, authenticity and, in the big picture, it’s prestige. More specifically, I would question how one would be awarded such a title; what prerequisites will tell me that I am a millionaire, aside from the obvious one, of course? Is there some union for these guys that give them some sort of million/billion/trillion dollar amount identity in the world of the wealthy? Or is there some database in each government which lists all of its richest residents? I am doubtful.

The dictionary will tell me that a millionaire is a person whose wealth amounts to a million or more in some unit of currency, as dollars, but does that mean that if my wealth amounts to nine hundred and ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine dollars and ninety-five cents that I am no longer a millionaire? Am I any type of -aire at this point? If I were to win on Who Wants to Be a Millionaire, am I only said millionaire from the time of leaving the studio to the time I sign my name on a form making me the proud new owner of a sports car? That is if a sum hasn’t already been deducted from my winnings for tax purposes, but that’s another topic completely.

The other thing that makes the term ridiculous is the question of who isn’t a millionaire these days. Like in the suburb I live in, the answer would be nobody, but in Hollywood…well, the wealthy would have a population of their own. You see, when we go to the movies, we watch millionaires act, when I listen to music, I am listening to millionaires sing and strum guitars strings, when we buy products from the store, that brand’s chairman is maybe even a billionaire; this whole corporate world is one big -aire breeding ground, I mean, think about how many successful actors, musicians, performers and brand company owners are out there at this very second, and that’s not counting previous ones, and they would all cleanly pass this threshold that tell people to use empty phrasing to glorify the rich.

See, this is the thing I dislike about the term; it’s such a liberally precarious term that has no substance. It’s not an opinion, but it’s not fact either, it’s not even a title, it’s just something people say now, if it held any substantial definition, we would title actors by wealth and not their occupation. The whole concept doesn’t mean anything; 'Billionaire' is not something that you would see on a business card. Aside from the fact that it would mean that you have more money than what a lot of other people do, it really means nothing, and for something that means zip, it is surely used a real lot, and that’s what I don’t understand.

Thursday, September 24, 2009

Western Sydney

There is a small amount of people that reside here in Sydney, Australia that have obviously never stepped foot in this city’s Western region. With the help of the media, their image of this place is to the liking of some sort battle zone with violence and drugs everywhere, like we have no society or something; I don’t know, however, what I do know is that it’s all ridiculous.

Living here myself, I admit that I don’t have a lot of positive things to say about the area, but under all the complaining, I can bluntly state that it is quite tolerable. Crime maybe higher, housing costs maybe lower, the kids could be better contained in some parts, but you can still comfortably live in the environment, we still have shopping centres, corner shops and anything else that you would find in the east, and yet people have this dystopian image like it’s Mad Max over here (even though I have made comparisons in the past). It all sounds nuts but I have known people that are scared to travel to this part of Sydney.

I’ve lived here for eighteen years, and I’ve never been shot, I’ve never been mugged, and even if I had been, it could’ve happened anywhere. People were killed at Sydney Airport a while back, does that mean that I avoid catching a plane until they build another big airport? In fact, do I avoid that entire suburb now that something has happened there? What I am trying to say is, every suburb has its colourful types, every region has its unstable groups, and this is why every suburb has its own police station. You see, if I avoided every place in Sydney that has had a violent incident in its past, I wouldn’t be living in Sydney.

Sunday, September 13, 2009

That R Word

RAPE! Ever since women have been better liberated, that fantastic word has been thrown around and bashed over the head that is the male race like a rocket launcher that disperses misfortune. There seem to be women out there that see the word “rape” as something that gets results, and fast. It’s sort of like the Get out of jail free card in Monopoly, just that it’s in real-life and it’s a piece of shit. Its instant attention, its instant sympathy, its instant destruction, so instant, however, that nobody ever second-guesses the person that has squeezed down on their rape-horn, I mean, I should know, I’ve certainly had first-hand experience.

Why do people do this? I can tell you why. All men have this thing in their pants, it’s called a penis, all women have this thing in their head and it’s this narrow perception that all men, at some point or another, will get so desperate to use those penises that they will have no choice but to turn to rape in order to culminate the desperation. With that being said, apart from the fact that nobody has the stomach to accuse the victim, that obvious stereotype is what makes the rape strategy so full-proof. I don’t care how doomed and how sexually debased a lot of the male population’s morals are, dickhead or not, it takes a lot for somebody to molest, sexually assault, rape or whatever other label you choose to tag it. People need to lose this bullshit mentality about us if they no longer wish to be fooled by these stupid girls. It doesn’t just take a man to commit such an act; it takes someone that is morbidly unbalanced.

I dated this girl, after she broke up with me, all of my friends, all of her friends and all of our mutual friends knew that I was totally mistreated by this person that I would’ve done anything for, so when she began to see all of her friends start to leave her side, and some subsequently coming to my aid, with no knowledge of my own, she played the rape card and it worked. For something like eight or nine months, the trouble I got at school escalated, friends and acquaintances just stopped speaking to me, and I had no idea why. So, when I got told by someone that was probably my only friend and the only person that I can say doubted the accusation, it all became clear. It’s been a few years since and the only real impact was social, I mean, some people still haven’t spoken a word to me with any goodbyes or questions and some psycho stormed into my old work labelling and threatening me, but aside from those two things, at present, it’s pretty much over. Point is, although my experience was only very minor in impact, if an accusation of this nature were to be made about someone a tad older that had more to lose, like a family and a career, and word got to the police, someone’s life is ultimately in the hands of this little white lie, this empty four-letter word; prison, future employment, it all just gets ten times harder, all because some score is trying to be won or someone desires a bit of the spotlight; and suddenly, the alleged victim is now the one morbidly unbalanced.

At the behest of this word, men are absolutely the weaker sex. It’s a scary thought that a girl can simply click her fingers and put me in prison; it’s also a scary thought that in the future we are going to have to treat every alleged rape victim with the possibility that she’s a liar. You see, when harebrained people take advantage, unfortunately it’s the sensible people that seem to suffer as a consequence in the world. Believe you me, the only time you should scream rape is when you have been raped.

Tuesday, September 8, 2009

Chocolate Rein

To preface this work-related post, the 25th of May marked my two years of employment at Max Brenner’s Parramatta store. The problems I plan to raise in these posts have been consistent or perhaps escalating factors since I even started back in the year 2007. Over the years since, I have written many pieces but had left them unpublished as I had considered them to be just me complaining which I choose to avoid. In the light of my resignation, publishing my thoughts is now merely stating the grounds that lead to it happening, as opposed to not taking action.

The previous, Scum of Parramatta, was over a thousand words, and to be blunt, (and yes, grab a hold of your seat) I am tired of talking about my, now, previous place of work, so I will try not to get into too much detail.

A customer once said to me that there is always something here [Max Brenner]; but never will I have to walk into work and find out that we have sold out of coffee beans/chocolate/waffles again, that the cash registers are down for the fifth time/that someone else got stabbed at our door/that the toaster is no longer toasting for the fiftieth time/that we will be two people down due to poor rostering, because as of this week, I am no longer employed at Max Brenner.

Now the guts: In a brief sentence, I would describe Max Brenner Australia as the retarded love-child of a successful business idea and a terribly managed restaurant; no matter how bad things were people still came regardless. In my training months, the word of each staff meeting was (say it with me now) consistency; the irony in that is highly amusing. The very people who were trying to enforce the C word couldn’t even live up to it themselves, the only thing they were consistent in was being inconsistent, I mean, I find it difficult to remember a time where we had full stock of all menu items simultaneously, where everything was available at ease, or where something got fixed the day it broke, as opposed to it being fixed six months and one robbery later, and they had the audacity to lecture us on being consistent. Nothing ever got done, anything that needed to go through head office, that is. Once again, in a brief sentence, I would describe the superior-managerial staff of Max Brenner Australia as I would describe a slumlord, they were the slumlords of the restaurant business, and us, the employees and customers, are the tenants; ultimately that’s what they were, actually running the business well was never high in their priorities, only their bonuses and weekly profits were in mind. Personally, I would prefer to spend a few extra bucks and have a positive reputation than everyone wanting to kill each other every night, because most weeks, that’s how it felt at the Parramatta store; but you know, each to their own.

So, the weight has been lifted; no more one hour waffles, no more senseless rules and laziness, no more consistent-inconsistencies; no more Max Brenner for me.

“Come on guys, I want you guys to smile more at work; I don’t understand why you guys don’t smile.”

25/5/074/9/09
Hate to my Max ♥

Sunday, September 6, 2009

Discretion

I have no discretion, I have no node in my brain that is fine with not saying what I think, I am not a fan, and I do not buy their albums. The other day at work I said fuck in front of a customer’s kid, I’m not immature I just have no off switch. So, I have things to say about some types of discretion.

Discretion in relationships – I personally feel that any relationship should have a probationary period on top of the build up to the relationship beginning where you can just point out flaws; complete physical honesty. It can’t be things that cannot be changed, or will be changed with surgery that will cost a hunk of cash like ‘fix your teeth’ or ‘make your nose smaller’ but I’m referring to the petty little things like shaving, nails, skin, clothing, intimacy or just general hygiene. I often hear people say that our world is too superficial and that personality matters, well, if that is true then this shouldn’t be too hard to come by then, and as long as you are willing to cop some criticism in return, why not? If I had bad breath, I’d want to know; if my shirt pisses you off, rip it off of me (yeah, you see what I did there, ladies); don’t dance around it, fix it.

Discretion in writing – Gah! I hate it! Believe me, I do it. I have a secret blog. It’s this little domain I have had for a few years which no one that I know has read and it has all the stuff which could potentially make me die an early death. I hate using it, sometimes I dumb down blogs just so that I can post them here, but when I dumb them down, my writing gets dumb, so it’s a lose-lose situation. I always use broad terms and I often give people fictitious alias’ to avoid the blog being found in a simple Google query; like seriously, I don’t want to die! So if I want to hide my lust from an ex or hide the fact that I wish to kill someone that happens to have friends who will actually kill me and not just fantacise about it, I turn to that blog, and I don’t like that I have to do that.

Discretion for kids – Yeah okay, so it’s either me or Grand Theft Auto; choose the weapon. I mean honestly, give it up; cover their eyes when they see breasts on screen, but in ten years they will be on the World Wide Web looking at more than breasts, I can say that with absolute certainty. It’s a disservice to young expectations, I feel. I know that when I get a chance to properly chat with my half-brother, I won’t scare him but more prepare him for what could happen, no misconceptions. I am not saying erase all boundaries, but the simple sugarcoating of the little things is just a waste of time. I mentioned once that life isn’t the way it is to Mike Brady, so let’s not pretend it is when in the presence of children.

You see, we have this thing in the world and it’s called discretion, and with that comes white lies, which is good, it keeps the world sane, but it drives me insane. I don’t want it.

Wednesday, September 2, 2009

Leave It Be

I, Ryan Quinn, will make an attempt to no longer overreact at things with shock value and I will attempt to no longer try to take control of who befriends who. It’s been one thing I have done that has always peeved people, and in the past, it hasn’t been that much of a big deal for me, but at present, my overreaction had the potential to jeopardise something else much more profound; family.

Case in point, I had this best friend, we are no longer friends in the strictest sense of the term; I have this cousin, me and him hangout on occasion. My cousin thought it would be alright if he began to spend time with said ex-best friend. My initial reaction was the point I am at now, a neutral ‘who cares’. My reaction yesterday was losing sleep, freaking out, telling my cousin that everything is over if he were to continue to do what I see as a betrayal and being two inches away from breaking down while trying to talk to mum about it. My reaction today, after some thinking, is back to neutral.

Don’t get me wrong, I am still horribly unhappy and disrespectful about the decision, but I know that I will just have to deal with the fact that for some f-ing reason my cousin thought it would be okay to risk our projects and, more importantly, the healthy climate within our family over some idiot who ruined his friendship with me, besides, frankly, I have other things I would rather focus on right now. I just hope that things don’t somehow escalate the way that they have before, as that was what I was initially trying to prevent.

Monday, August 31, 2009

What Fuels Me?

Well:
  1. Juice when I wake up.

  2. Getting what's on my mind down on paper.

  3. A good one-on-one conversation.

  4. Cracking a great joke.

  5. Installing new software/hardware.

  6. Finding a new song.

  7. The first sight/date/kiss/so on...

  8. Soft Drink/Ribena.

  9. Accomplishment.

  10. Receiving a compliment.

  11. Good manners.

  12. Plans tonight.

Monday, August 24, 2009

Hung Up

I have some important decisions to make in my life, because what I have lived of it so far has been spent carrying the excess of my past. For a few years, it was one thing after another, like the time that should have been spent thinking things over and speaking up was in fact spent facing my next ordeal. The point is, what had to be said was not said, and the amount of times that I have lost sleep at night over my past is a clear indication that I am not well.

It's like a page of paperwork, and each time I would go to do it, I would get called out to deal with another situation, each of which makes an additional page to accompany that situation, so gradually, ordeal after ordeal, the tedious one page of paperwork accumulates into a pile. So, eventually the block of paper and emery becomes a part of the furniture, just another part of my desk that I choose to accept like a mouse pad or a pen and unlike those items, the pile has no use yet it takes up this chunk of space I could be using more productively, this is much the same with how I’ve dealt with my problems, I’ve let it linger in my brain for so long that it’s become an anchor, and unfortunately it could and has become a great toll on the way I associate with the people that I want to keep around and frightens those that I want around.

So let’s weigh the options of the average person: optimism, memory and unanswered questions will remain; change, a myth; comparing me with those that are much worse-off, who said anything about anybody else here? So, what is left? I mean, getting closure is the only solution that comes to mind. You see, the root of my problem is not that it happened; it's that I let most of the people get away with what they did, and the self-loathing and anger has been building ever since. Does that mean that I make like John Cusack in High Fidelity, make a top five and civilly confront those of my past? I mean getting my questions answered would ultimately wash my hands of ex-whatevers, or will these calls be rejected in fear of actually facing me? Do I have nothing to lose or will it further humiliate me as a result, leaving me even more tempered? Do I risk making this worse than it is? If I messaged you tonight, would I get a reply? Will the emails get a response? If I really put myself out there for the first time in a long while with the people who have alienated me, will the situation be rejected with immaturity or have we all grown up enough to speak without our public word posting?

See, this isn’t some proclamation of depression or tears of solemn unhappiness, I’m not unhappy about who it is I’ve become and what I have learned, however, lonely is what I don’t wish to be but it’s where my hang-ups are leading me. Honestly though, in all seriousness, I truly believe that my only two options at this point (options of an uncommon person) are: an attempt at pocketing whatever closure I can scrape from my plate or forking out the cash that is needed for therapy. Regardless of my final decision, I need to work out my issues, and as a young adult going onto adulthood, I don’t want to spend it thinking about some idiot that would forget that I existed if it wasn’t for our mutual acquaintances; it’s not on.

Monday, August 17, 2009

No Vision

I hate 3OH!3. That’s right, hate, it’s a very strong word, and I am using it.
So, after months upon months of bitching, here is a blog to accompany my utter dislike for the idiots who make 3OH!3 and, more specifically, there hit Don’t Trust Me.

Now, not only do I happen to know that that here are two sell-outs who got signed by a relatively new label called Photo Finish Records, probably as bad as the bands they sign judging by the company’s shocking name, my dislike delves a tad deeper, it’s my defence of Helen Keller.

Let me tell you a little something about who Helen Keller was: Helen Keller was an outspoken political writer who loudly and openly opposed the things she didn’t think were right with the world. For as long as I have been writing, I have collected countless quotes into numerous word processing documents, some of which were once articulated by Keller herself. Keller once said “The most pathetic person in the world is someone who has sight but has no vision.”, that one’s my favourite, now read the blurb of this blog; I will leave you to spot the similarities for yourself. And that was only off the top of my head; a quick Google search tells me that she wrote her first piece when she was eleven (even though it was unintentionally plagiarised; don’t ask, do the research and you’ll understand), she was practically blind yet she saw more than a lot of people have in the world that don’t even need glasses, in other words, she was a journalistic genius; and look at her now, it’s been over forty years since her death, and she has now been denounced from a genius to some silly lyric, from an intelligent writer to a shallow fusion of written words; now that’s a travesty if I ever saw one.

I am also quite pleased to point out that just when you were probably thinking that I am the only person on the globe that has a problem with the reference, the version of the song sold and aired (and maybe even performed) in the UK had to have the reference cut from it; that’s right, it’s me…and then the opinion of a nation.

So, to every kid who has heard Don’t Trust Me come on the radio or has at one point bounced around in a nightclub singing about how Helen Keller talks with her hips, to every person that has no idea who Keller was but still continued to sing it and put money into the song’s sales, you are as bad as the people that she once stated as having ‘no vision’. On that note, my assumption is that the lyric refers to the actor (or actors) that portrayed her, not the woman herself, which makes that point as incorrect as it is irrelevant. I just hope that this is the last I have to write about 3OH!3, or any other band who decides to make invalid references (likeParkwayDrive; oops!).

Saturday, August 15, 2009

Shh, Can't Talk

If I cannot converse, crack a joke or socially connect in general, I will have a terrible time. It’s not in my character to be quiet, I am not a quiet person, but when it comes down to engaging in an activity which requires focus, my whole grip on demonstrating my social abilities can tend to go astray. At work, stress is almost guaranteed; when I was at TAFE, most of the time my only interest was trying to get out in one fell swoop, so as a result of goal, I often subconsciously force humour and conversation into non-existence.

I don’t like who I am at work. On my first shift, I knew it was going to be a taxing and stressful job, and now, it has come down to feeling like I am always arguing or never being able to have a good laugh with the people I work with, and I mean, how can someone value a friendship with a boring or angry person, someone that appears to have no character at all? My only real chance to connect is at work-related social-gatherings, even then though, the happiness that comes over me socially can, in some minds, be outweighed by the times at work that my mood has taken a new low.

At TAFE, it wasn’t my crowd. I felt like an alien when I would converse with the people I went to class with. My jokes were misunderstood and frowned upon, films that I would mention were unheard of, as with any other reference; I was on a different planet. However, there was one girl that I connected on several different levels with, but after she dropped out, I pretty much spent the remainder of the year on my lonesome with my head down and my pen to paper; I dislike this person also, because it’s just not me.

Thing is, I have modes, and often in those modes, conversation is put to a minimum. Outside of a shift or class, I am a different person, but unless my work and class mates see a reason to socialise with me outside of their obligations, how will they see the real me and not the misconception of who I am when my mind is required elsewhere? Bottom line is I don’t want people to misjudge simply because I am hard at work; I’m not dull.

" The most wasted of all days is one without laughter. "
- E. E. Cummings
I had to add this in. - 30/10/09

Sunday, August 9, 2009

Attractively Unattractive

You know what, I feel like I am disapproving of everyone. I’m not sure if it’s just me or what, but it’s all fun and amusing to meet girls in clubs, it’s almost exhilarating, especially if you hit it off, but I find that most of the girls that you could meet clubbing are, to put it bluntly, only fit for a one-night-stand. Now, I am not stating that every female that goes clubbing is some sort of slut, but when I walk into a club, all I see is a bunch of drunken girls with hardly any clothes on, and there is no way that I could date anyone of the myriad of girls who possess that type of clubbing routine; It’s great to look at, sure, but to date, no thanks.

Saturday, August 8, 2009

Watchlist

I love feature films so much, but the thing I love more than films are their several different installments and the drawn-out development of story involved in making those installments. I love a film that I can either correctly predict what will happen because the next movie was released ten years ago or be able to relate back to the previous escapades of each of the characters; it adds some reality to the storyline. With all of that being said, here is my current list of movies I am eager to see.
  • Funny People (10th September, 2009 AU) - IMDb
  • Well, it's the third masterpiece that Judd Apatow will soon be able to sit on his mantle-piece, followed by The 40 Year Old Virgin and Knocked Up. Writing and directing Funny People, alongside cast and close friends, Adam Sandler and Seth Rogen, and wife, Leslie Mann. There is not a great laugh that Apatow hasn’t brought to our screens like Superbad, Forgetting Sarah Marshall, Pineapple Express, Anchorman, Year One, and, even the box-office fail, the cable guy (which I loved, by the way); can't wait.
  • Get Him to the Greek (11th of June, 2010 US) - IMDb
  • Another Apatow Production; a spin-off of Forgetting Sarah Marshall, with the return of Russell Brand’s character, Aldous Snow. Also starring Jonah Hill.
  • Toy Story 3 (24th June, 2010 AU) - IMDb
  • There was a moment where I believed that this project had been scrapped, you see, due to Pixar and Disney’s ownership and differences on certain intricacies of the series, this movie had to be delayed for years after its slated release (which was years back). So, finally, upon the release of the teaser trailer, my mind was put at ease. Plus, I am excited about Michael Keaton’s involvement.
  • Arrested Development (2010 US) - IMDb
  • Fantastically cynical, yet somewhat short-lived TV show, now turned movie. All cast will return, as well as executive producer (and hopefully, narrator) Ron Howard.
  • Austin Powers 4 (2010 US or NEVERLAND) - IMDb
  • I am quite skeptical as to if this will actually be made or not. As far as IMDB is concerned, this has been announced with Jay Roach directing, as far as I am concerned, this is only wishful talk of Mike Myers, which I have a feeling that Jay Roach, director of the previous three films in the franchise, is reluctant to have a hand in. If this does actually happen, it will quite possibly flop; however, it still has my sixteen dollars.
  • Bond 23 (2011 UK) - IMDb
  • I love the 007 series. The moment I leave the theatre of the latest James Bond flick is the moment I begin counting down to the next one. Synopsis is unknown, same to say about the cast as well, apart from Daniel Craig and Judi Dench as they are casted by contract.
  • Little Fockers (2011 US) - IMDb
  • A.k.a. Meet the Parents 3 - Please don't. You know how they say don't ruin a good thing; well I have a gut feeling this is risking it. Meet the Parents was great, and Meet the Fockers only trumped it, now it's time to leave it there. Perhaps Jay Roach's return as director is a plus; however he made the same mistake with Austin Powers in Goldmember, and look where that put that series.
  • Alien Prequel (2011 US) - IMDb
  • Ridley Scott, who made Alien, the first in the series, will be returning for a prequel, that’s the good news, the bad news however is that Sigourney Weaver will be absent, however, if her character were to be in the prequel, the story would make no sense.
  • Monopoly: The Movie (2011 US) - IMDb
  • Oh...my...god. It is a movie... based on a board game and, wait for it...by Ridley Scott! I am so curious.
  • Ghostbusters 3 (2012 US) - IMDb
  • Although I am not too pleased about it being animated, I am nevertheless happy about the film in general and the return of the full cast, including Ramis and Ackroyd as the writers, excluding Sigourney Weaver’s character for some strange reason.
  • Monsters Inc. 2 (2012 US) - IMDb
  • Not only was I a big fan of the first installment, but I am a Billy Crystal fan, so this release will hopefully bring him out of hiding (along with his other upcoming films).
So, if not all, most of this list will have me seeing them on the silver-screen once they shoot into theatres. This list isn't definitive, though, so I trust that there will be more.

EDIT: Fixed some mistakes & added an IMDb link for each of the movies. 9/8/09

Friday, August 7, 2009

Familiar Feeling

Location realisation - It's like automatic pilot. I am partially absent for the trip there, deep in thought, then I return to the world upon arrival; most recently, this happened to me the other day in the city. It was like whoa, I was once home and now I am actually here; how did I get here, and so quickly?.

It usually occurs at work or the city and is often caused by the change of atmosphere, a transformation from the quiet solitude of my home to something considerably busier like the dark busy room of people at work or the sea of people amongst the enormous buildings which compliment Sydney's city skyline.

It is a single moment, only minuscule to the rest of my day, but its general significance is euphoric. It is the loudest moment of my day, a moment where the most happens around me, where I am completely exposed to whatever treatment the public eye can hand me; one bump brings me back. It's similar to a recurring dream I used to have as a child, where there would just be nothing, an infinite white room maybe, in which I was tiny and paralysed, and sounds, massive beats and thumps that held a lot of bass behind them, and I lay tiny, listening to the almost deafening and unknown noises; I have no idea what this means, however, I do associate the two.

So, you're probably thinking man, he is nuts for having that dream and to be honest, I might just be, but fortunately, a lot of other people share that trait, if I do happen to possess it, that is.

Saturday, August 1, 2009

Friday the Thirty First

I can’t honestly say that I have ever done the whole journalistic type recount of my day before, not just on cyberspace, but any type of medium, because, to be blunt, I find them hard to read. I often fill this domain with compilations of my thoughts of the particular moments and occurrences that happen in one of those days, either accumulatively or just singularly, so, a rare change is due.

So, here we go – It was Friday the 31st of July and much like the rest of the herd, it’s my favourite day of the week, not only because it ends a usually hard week, but because it is my day of working during the actual daylight and doing whatever I like under the moonlight, as opposed to my usual nocturnal days of waking up late and working into early the next morning.

Scurried to the bus stop to catch the piece of junk they call buses around here, it was practically at the stop waiting for me; what I call a smooth morning. One thing I need to point out, the entire street can be clean, not one sign of litter on my short journey, and then when I get to my bus stop, tissues everywhere, strewn across the lawn…I mean, I have a thing about tissues, make me upchuck, please.

Got to work quite promptly; day-shifts are amusing at the Café I work at in terms of the array of people we are forced to serve. A night-shift you are faced with your run-of-the-mill bunch of idiots, yet during the day there is a bit more to it than that, let me elaborate; you have your analytic bunch that have so much precision in their ordering process, it’s amazing, it can go from something page three like the temperature of a coffee to something nuts like the width of the slices of fruit that we sell, both of which occurred today; then you have your polite crew - on a day-shift, I almost never have to ask how are you? twice to receive a response, and to trump that, they often ask back, and this could be for a number of reasons, one, it’s the fresh new morning, two, we often get intelligent people on their way to or from work or, three, they haven’t been waiting in line for forty-five minutes; you also will get your fair share of kids who purchase our cheapest item, which angers me simply because it’s this grand symbolism on how predictable and unadventurous kids are with spending their money, saving up will get you something better than a small container of milk chocolate; and finally, you get your “Max Brenner Runs” where an office has sent someone with a list of things to fetch, let me stress that reading off of a list that is often written by people who know how to order properly is maybe the easiest venture when taking orders. Personally, day-shifts also mean that I can enjoy the fact that I have something to look forward to for whatever I am doing post-work, and that I can possibly do next to nothing for the same money I am paid during an off-my-feet night-shift; day-shifts are fantastic. Although, my break would be where I discovered that my plans to drink up with Andy had fallen through, leaving my Friday night to become a lame Friday night.

The concluding half-hour was pretty much me standing around speaking to a work mate making last minute arrangements to salvage my social goings-on for the night; I also spent some time speaking to my good friend, Jess, who was just passing through from school. She wanted her MP3 player back after I pretty much made a best of playlist of my entire music library on her player. Then as she left, Alice surprise visited me to let me know that we weren’t spending the Friday night as a duo (which I already knew), so we decided to hangout for a little after I finished.

So, I finished work, grabbed a Waffle for Alice and we migrated to McDonalds for her to eat it. A good one-on-one conversation was had, which pretty much was me trying to convince her that she shouldn’t be flunking in school. The conversation then died and turned into a party, unfortunately. I have a real thing about numbers; I often rather enjoy a one-on-one with people rather than a four plus people crowding around. When this happens, it suddenly turns into one of those groups who loiter, they disturb peace and I want no contribution when that happens, it also would happen that any intelligent conversation can hardly survive when in groups; essentially, when people began to arrive, our semi-intelligent conversation depleted and it just transformed into a group of people bored. Notably though, Roberta showed up so it was good to see her for the first time in a long-while. Don’t get me wrong, though, I am not bashing parties or any type of get-together, just when the gathering is in a shopping centre. So, I soon left that, and the group broke up.

Another hunk of crap took me home, once again, waiting for me at the stop, luckily; also, only had a twenty dollar note to give the driver, which is rare for me as I usually try my hardest to always have the exact fare for the bus.

Then my time at home - Anybody that really knows me would know that I spend 99.9% of my time at home in front of my computer, the other 0.1% is spent making food, toileting, cleaning myself or doing my hair. My computer is my life, when it comes to technology, I am very materialistic; it homes my music collection, most of my movies, it types, stores and submits each word that I mash together, it keeps me connected with friends, it’s where I read my news, not to mention, a large fraction of most of my reading comes from it’s screen, and it does a tonne of other things. So with that being said, my time in the late afternoon was essentially spent catching up on my reading, and by this I mean various articles scattered all over the net. There a two outlets which help me do this, my RSS feeds for news.com.au and Neowin, which scroll in a marquee across the top of my web browser where I can select whatever interests me from the headline, and then more importantly, my Google Reader account, which holds the rest of my RSS feeds, which I am also notified in my web browser about anything from blogs to job openings to MySpace comments I don’t want to miss out on in my absence from the site. There was a casual job for 3, not interested, there were a bunch of posts from a tech-geek Chris Pirillo, one from this brilliant writer I only stumbled across the other day here, there were also some from Geekolgie which I have Andrea to thank for turning me onto. Then I got the message, letting me know where to meet and so forth.

So, it was a bunch of time getting ready with the constant mirror poses, hair-teasing and too much cologne, then waiting around, then killing time with mum and showing her a bunch of Fail videos on YouTube posted by the Fail Blog; she was in hysterics. So finally, I got the message that they were on their way to the city, so mum offered me a lift to the station, which was great, saved a lot of hassle. Got to the station, had to wait and watch the Sydney Terminal express train go because I didn’t want to have to do the hike from Central to Town Hall, so I killed the twenty minutes watching Quantum of Solace on my MP3 player, trying to gather a somewhat positive opinion on the film; pulling it out probably wasn’t the smartest thing I could have done. So, the train ride was a little heated; a young African dude having a chinwag on his phone in his native tongue sat in the seat in front and some white drunk guy sat across the aisle. As the train progressed further along the Western Line, drunk guy begins to get a little bit agitated by the black man’s talking, then subsequently begins to tell the man to shut up and that he should go fight that guy, pointing to an Indian guy also on his mobile having a conversation, this of course was right before he pulled out a colossal bottle of Victoria Bitter and began to skull it; respect to the African guy for not kicking his head in, plus that would’ve made me late.

I arrived, got a call pretty much simultaneously with my train stopping at Town Hall, waited at the bus stops across from Town Hall near the Woolworths, and almost literally jumped into a car to be greeted by my work mate, Gladys, her boyfriend, Lawrence, which I knew, and there two friends, Ven, the designated driver, and Ryan (I think). We parked, detoured to an ATM where Lawrence insisted that we don’t go near the Commonwealth teller’s only twenty metres away; paranoid. Then to the line at our destination, Havana on Oxford St, King’s Cross, Sydney. The line continued after the security check, a nice man waved a wand in front of my body and signalled me through, up the stairs, paid twenty-five bucks, and in we were.

Lawrence mentioned how your first moments in a club are the full force, with the blast of music and the lights; this was correct. I have always found clubs funny, funny in the way that they are the biggest crock of shit. With Fridays and Saturdays (and whatever other night) pouring in people paying twenty five dollars each simply for admission then each downing countless ten dollar drinks, it’s the ultimate money-making scheme. Hey, let’s put some flashy lights up, a bar and a guy that sits behind a sounding board and his laptop and I am a millionaire! It’s the main reason I avoid clubs, each time I have been clubbing since the law has allowed me to, I have always set a dollar limit for myself so that I can prevent waking up the next day with a hangover in my bank account; so, once I have hit that limit, I spend no more. My limit is always set when standing at the ATM shortly before entering, last night, I chose sixty-dollars, plus of course, the two dollars I was charged for not using a St George or Westpac teller machine. I knew beforehand, but if not told, I would have worked it out almost immediately, it was an Asian club, an assortment of gorgeous Asian girls with their massive boyfriends; I won’t say that I was the only white person there last night, but you know, I was one on the wrong side of a ratio. Three Smirnoff Double Blacks and a Long Island Ice Tea later, and it was time to go. Quick stop off at McDonalds, and I was then dropped off at home. I am not too sure why, but I have this habit, there will be all the light in the world in the car, but I always wait to get to my door before pulling out my keys, simply so I am forced to fumble around and try to fit keys into my door like I am trying to do a Jigsaw-Piece Puzzle until I can get the right one, I must do this for both the normal lock, and the dead-lock; it’s retarded.

So, I spent seventy-two dollars all up, not including my McChicken Bacon Deluxe. So, getting home, for some reason, as drunk as a skunk, I jumped on my computer thinking that reading words would be simple, yeah, it wasn’t. With my eyes almost touching my monitor, I called it a night, giggling myself to bed.

Luckily for me and my work shift I have tonight, I am absolutely without a hangover, as per usual, however, I woke up with the driest mouth, a drought was occurring within my body, at one point, I woke up, had two full glasses of apple juice and went back to sleep; I was so dehydrated.

And that was my day, and my gosh, that is my recount, he exclaimed two thousand words later. Do you now see why I do not like to recount; anyway, a pinch and a punch for the first day of the month.

Stay safe.