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.”

Hate to my Max ♥

Sunday, September 6, 2009


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.