On the way to buy Weekend SMHWe are living in an era of now; everything that happens must occur in the present and as such, we devout too much time to this time horizon. Things that have happened cannot be changed; things that are happening we are experiencing and things that are going to happen we are ignoring.
It is this precise feeling that got me into much current mode of looking towards the future. As I peer into my crystal ball that is my empty Hennessy cognac bottle, my vision of the future is too fuzzy. I have spent and wasted too much time dwelling on the insignificant and downright frivolous: debating of the glitz and glamour of Paris; the merits of LV over Gucci; who is hot and not and probably my most significant time vice: gazing into my crystal ball.
To create a clear picture of the future, I have finally decided to start investing. And not through the usual method of investing in quality luxecessities, but actual investing in the not so glamorous and dirty world of stock markets. I have also started to salary sacrifice part of my income to take advantage of the governments co-contribution to super and I am even contemplating taking out insurance to protect my greatest asset: my belongings and perhaps, if I have enough space in my budget, life insurance or trauma or disability insurance.
I think my need to look into the future is driven by my mid-life crisis. Mid in the sense that I don’t expect to live beyond 50 according to
http://www.deathclock.com/ and mid also in the sense that life is down hill after 40.
So as I sat down reading the weekend newspaper, I gazed nonchalantly into my crystal ball when I spotted a solution to the most important decision in anyone’s life: how to leave this world.
With my fear of tight enclosed spaces and dread of heat, the decision to be buried or cremated ruled themselves out completely. Then there is the option of being cryogenically frozen, which was my favoured option until now. Thank heavens for technology because now when I die, I can give my body to a company and six months later, my bequeathed will receive a diamond made from my body.
Yes, I am going to leave this world as a diamond, preferably one that flawless, colourless, more than ten carats and in a platinum ring created by Tiffany’s.
On the way to read the company newsletterThere is a certain allure about celebrities and models, especially when they are featured in the glossy magazines in advertisements, photo spreads and award ceremonies. They all look picture perfect: immaculate hair, smooth skin, sparkling eyes and glossy lips all shrouded in the latest designer looks. In the way they present the image of themselves, people have elevated them beyond celebritydom. They are now revered, closely followed and feverishly worshipped. One only needs to watch the MTV specials on how ordinary people undergo surgery to look like their favourite celebrity to realise the god like pedestal that we have placed celebrities on.
I guess it is human nature that entrenches people to become something they are not: a hot movie star; a stunning cat walk model; a sculptured Adonis; the rebirth of Aphrodite; or the feeling of being important. And one of the easiest ways of achieving this besides transformation surgery is to emulate your celebrities look. The boho chic of Kate Moss or the bling cringe of Puff Daddy or mega slut of Paris Hilton or the trackidaks of sport stars or the rock star look of Dior Homme.
Taking it a step further, we can also create the celebrity look by wearing the stars signature scent: Miss Hilton by Paris Hilton; Lovely by SJP or Chanel No. 5 for that mega-rich Australian feel. But the one area that people fail to emulate is how to mimic the celebrities’ face – the single most defining feature of a celebrity. The flawless skin, the perfect tan and the wrinkle free smiles.
These images are forever perpetuated in magazines and generally in all forms of mass media. They create a misleading image that propels people to emulate – to achieve the unachievable. But every now and again, the trashy tabloids comes out with a special issue that unmasks the masked celebrities, showing how they look in real life, free of painstaking airbrushing and Photoshop manipulation. The photos show in minute detail every blemish, every wrinkle and every puncture wound from the Botox injections. All in the effort of destroying the perfect image and to show celebrities as they really are: ordinary people.
How painful must it be for celebrities to see those issues. To realise that they are imperfect and ordinary must be soul crushing and self esteem destroying. I feel a sense of empathy for those exposed celebrities. I too know the feeling of having an undoctored photo printed in a national wide publication.
I was recently featured in the company newsletter bulletin. It was glossy and distributed across Australia. And on one of the pages, there was a photo of me: un-airbrushed and un-manipulated. Oh the pain.
On the way to check out the Weekend Domain in the SMHSociologist has attempted it many times and now the central bankers are having a crack at it. It is the imperfect art of labelling. We have all grown up wearing labels: the baby boomers; Generation X, Y and Z; the MTV, Disney and Internet Generation; retirees, self made retirees and millionaire retirees; yuppies and guppies; the long term unemployed and unemployables; SNAGs, HAGs, FAGs; male, female and undecided; straight, gay, bi and animal lovers; lower, middle and upper class; Easties and Westies; haves and have nots.
Traditionally, only the sociologist has attempted the fine art of labelling: grouping certain people together to describe common traits and attributes. And now, the Reserve Bank of Australia has introduced a new label: the unaffordables. The generation of young people who cannot afford cost of living in a world class city that is Sydney. The RBA showed that the cost of housing in Sydney is more than two thirds higher than other less world class cities such as Melbourne or the countryside. The RBA has identified a certain group people at most risk of becoming an unaffordable: people aged in their low twenties to late thirties: – Generation X and Generation Y; my generation.
This is a label that I do not wish to wear. But one cannot deny the fact that one of the most learned institutions in Australia has a point. Living in Sydney is expensive. All the designer homes; designer clothing; designer furniture; designer food; designer cleaning; designer transport is adding up. So much so that I believe I may be at risk of becoming an unaffordable.
The thought of becoming an unaffordable is extremely overwhelming. To mitigate that risk, I need to start replacing designer with ordinary. But other labels are just as disturbing: Westie, SNAG, lower class, Generation Y. But there is a new label that I am proud to wear. Most labels only attempt to identify a certain aspect of a person. But I found a label that describes me fully – CHOP: Chauvinistic, Hedonistic, Opportunistic Prick.
On the way to download some pieces of legislationEveryone has heard of the age old adage that money doesn’t grow on trees. Leaves, fruit, flowers and moss all grow on trees, but for some miraculous reason, money does not; unless you own an old growth forest in Tasmania ripe for logging.
That axiom serves to highlight the value of money and the importance of having a non-frivolous and spend thrift attitude and growing up without a lot of money, I have come to more than appreciate its maxim. For a long period and all of my youth, I lived by it and now, I’ll probably die by it.
Money is starting to progressively become more difficult to obtain. Of course there are the usual methods of working, saving, evading tax, claiming multiple welfare payments and for business owners, non declaration of GST revenue. But those avenues are open to only a select few in society, for the rest, you have to be more savvy and entrepreneurial in developing ways of sowing the seeds for the mystical money tree.
For me, I prostituted myself and a confession I am extremely ashamed. It occurred during a moment of quiet desperation and provoking despair when an opportunity presented itself, unashamedly and indecently. It stared directly into my consciousness, echoing the hollowness in my wallet and I took the plunge and allowed the vice of modern society to envelope me.
I gave my mind, body and soul to the evil that is Google Adsense. Even as I sit here, a shiver runs down my side knowing that I am worth 2 cents for every click I receive from the advertisements that usurped my innocence.
But it is the ads that send the greatest fears. Google Adsense purports to customise their advertisement based on the content of my beloved. Every time I log in, I am bombarded by advertisements telling me that I can “
Find your soul mate” or ads that tell me how I “
Can succeed with motivational quotes” or “
Lay the foundation for a better life” or “Help
positive thinking and personal growth” or my favourite, “
Buy your Hermes Birkin online – now!”
It frightens me how a computer program can develop such insight into my mind and access my most intimate thoughts. But as any prostitute will tell you, you learn to become a being void pain, emotional attachment and regret, because after all of that, you’ll receive a nice little imbursement. I am still waiting for mine.
On the way to throw out some old but beloved magazinesWhile growing up, there are certain things children do not comprehend simply by the virtue of their inexperience and to a degree, their naivety. It therefore falls upon our parents to teach us the ways of the world but in today’s fast revolving world, the axis of responsibility is tilting towards our schools, who are playing an increasing role in teaching children not only educational knowledge, but life skills as well, the IQ and EQ essential to success. Growing up, I posed the question to one of my teachers why I should spend my time at school when I am more capable of achieving the same results just as efficiently and effectively at home. Their answer: I shouldn’t stay at school because the ultimate goal of any educator is to teach people how to teach themselves.
But without schools and the interaction it provided, I would not have learnt all those life skills that if I were to forget them, I would cease to function in any normative sense in society. It is these skills that I use more of now in my later years. I am no longer a youth and as such I am taking a greater responsibility in my education. Growing up, issues of world politics, Brad and Angelina and foreign affairs were just foreign to us. But now, I have come to appreciate the subtly of adult play.
Other issues that I have learnt about include art and architecture, food and fashion, travel and technology. And also about love, lust, sex, STDs, pregnancy, child rearing and because of Live 8, world climate change. And also about war, poverty, disease, famine, pandemic viruses, heartbreak, pain, adultery, betrayal and religion.
It is through life experiences that we learn about these things; things that are not teachable or can be conveyed in the traditional classroom. It is by getting up everyday and living life to the fullest that we come understand and develop respect for these issues and lessons.
That is why it was so surprising when I was left speechless the other day after answering a phone call:
“Hello”
“Who is this?”“This is tyarrhea”
“Is your mother home?”“No. May I ask who is calling?”
“A friend. Is your father home?”
“No, they both went out”
“Tell your mother your father is seeing another woman”“What! What are you talking about? Who are you?”
“.... ....”“Don’t hang up!”
I was left speechless. Naturally I confronted my father and things weren’t pretty. He severely regretted to having not installed caller ID and my poor mother, she couldn’t stop laughing and was in hysterics with no amount of being told to calm down and keep quiet sufficient to render watching Desperate Housewives comfortably.
So I learnt what it felt like to be a celebrity. It is not a glamorous moment when you are confronted with a silicious rumour and when you have a faceless person on whom legal action cannot be brought against, it makes the pain all just that much worse.
