Keep Your Friends Close, and Your Facebook Friends Closer

I’ve never been good at making new friends. I struggle to connect with people on an emotional level. Hell, even mates I have known for almost ten years I can be a little awkward with. In high school I had a large group of friends but really I would only hang out with a handful of them. I’ve never really been able to fit in to be honest, and while my mates love me for the oddball that I am there’s always been the slightest of divide between myself and others. And then Facebook happened. Everything became so much easier. I could carefully consider what I’d say and come across as witty and clever as opposed to being the mumbling weirdo I am. Suddenly I had an audience at my beckoning, who in my eyes were on the edge of their seats waiting for my next glorious status update.

I still maintain this statement.

I still maintain this statement.

Fast forward five years later and I’ve got some serious Facebook fatigue. I see statuses like “Kevin got a new hat. Take that sun!” and think “The sun is the most powerful thing in our solar system, if it’s out to get you, it will fucking get you”, and “Who the hell is Kevin and why are we friends?”

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The Secret Life of an Awkward Man

Living an awkward life is like trying to open a new box of tissues. You tear off the cardboard but the plastic is being difficult and suddenly your fingers are stuck between the two flaps. “Fuck it” you think, “I’m half way there”, so you continue to fumble your way down towards that holy grail which is the first tissue. Your fingers brush against the soft paper so you try to pull it out, but the stubborn thing won’t budge. Beginning to lose patience, you pull it put more hurriedly, yet somehow it’s stuck inside the box. People are starting to notice that you’re battling a tissue box, and that the box is winning. With one final, mighty tug you stand victorious, the tissue in your hand. Yet alas! What you thought was the tissue is just a small chunk you’ve managed to tear off. And worst of all, now your nose is overflowing with mucus because you’ve taken so long to tear out half a fucking tissue.

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A Real Australian

Australian. What does that word really mean? I’ve always been fascinated by the concept of being an ‘Aussie’ ever since I realised I was the only kid on the playground with brown skin. I’ve always identified with being Australian; I was born here, I have the same ridiculous accent and prefer wearing thongs over shoes. But ever since I was young I’ve been made to feel like I was different for how I looked. Sure, I’ve had my share of overt racism thrown my way, but what disturbs me more is the more common form of  subtle racism. What I’m referring to is the term “They were ‘Aussie’ looking”.

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That Night, I Tried to Strangle Romeo In His Sleep

I’m a romantic. There, I admitted it. I hate a lot of things, and there are very few things I do love, but when I do I give it everything I’ve got no matter what (which explains my unwavering devotion to Lost, even after the first season). I have no idea why, although I’m sure the sheer amount of Bryan Adams I was exposed to as a child, courtesy of my father, could have something to do with it. But earlier this week as I sat on the train hungover and sipping burnt coffee I realised something that Canada’s favourite son could never teach me. Love is the ultimate paradox. Never will you find something that is both selfless and yet is used so selfishly. Continue reading

Trying To Get Perspective

Earlier this week I received some horrible news; Bluejuice, the beloved Australian band and all round cool dudes, were calling it quits. Needless to say I was gutted to find out that Bluejuice were breaking up, this band has filled my life with a lot of joy and now their time was ending. Like any self-respecting young man would do in this situation, I took to Twitter to voice my grievances. And then I saw this and instantly felt like an idiot. Continue reading

Somewhere Between Here and Nowhere

I spoke to my ex-girlfriend for the first time in months recently. When she asked me if I had been up to anything interesting I had to stop and seriously think hard. I hadn’t seen her since March, surely there has been something interesting I’ve done? After half an hour of scouring my memory the only interesting thing I could think of was that I had won Heads or Tails at trivia the night before and got a free jug of beer. Continue reading