google search: life purpose

Today. Just this morning. I sat at my desk as its Thursday which i have aptly retitled Thesisday. Thesisday is strictly for thesis achieving. So obviously the first thing I did was open google and search:

What should I do with my life?

And i'm not the only one because there were plenty of results (3.27million) which signals demand. The irony is, that this actually has quite a bit to do with my thesis. We all have formed relationships with our computers not so much the keyboard and screen but the world inside that window. I recently read an article which I can not locate to reference correctly so you will just need to take my word for it. But it was about our relationship with computers. How they help us feel less lonely and more connected. But in reality are we not sitting alone in front of a screen? And all those people we are connecting to.. are they not just sitting alone infront of their screens? Or perhaps all the lonely people connected by the webernet cancels the loneliness?

Maybe social networking is about feeling connected on the lonernet but search engines are about answers. We no longer need to battle with that excruciating feeling where you cant remember the name of an actor in X film. "ill google it". Cafe, Malvern good reviews? What does frenulum mean? How much sugar is in ketchup? Will I die if I eat a bowl of melted Toblerone? These questions are data based or diet based. But are we turning to our computers for life answers? Or will we soon enough. Alain de Botton thinks so. And he has a pretty cool name.  If we want life answers we do not look internally and ask ourselves but we type in a request for a search engine to serve up some medicine and that medicine is often from people who really should not have permission to access the medicine cupboard.

So the internet told me:

• to buy some books about finding my life purpose 
• some ideas of how to find satisfying work
• how to let my subconscious guide my existence
• how to have better sex (not quite sure how this related but perhaps it is related to my Google search about frenulums).
• buy something from ASOS (remarketing).

It perhaps wasn't a very useful Google search. I am none the wiser with what i should do with my life. the lesson here is to be aware of the next time you think "ill google it". Or we may slide from data searching to the search for meaning. So I guess I am going to have to do it the hard way and ask myself and perhaps take an odyssey of self discovery where i sleep in hostels and take to unwashed hair.  But first I am going to buy something from ASOS to see if that works.

x

On friendship. The good eggs.

What the fuck is friendship? It’s something we never really question. Just like how you never really question how almost all eggs make their way unbroken through various logistical obstacles from ‘farms’ (or more likely cages) to supermarkets or grocers and eventually to your home. I mean they are packed in cartons and boxes and trucks and change trucks and then are unpacked from the trucks and boxes and perhaps even the cartons… that's a lot of handling yet most eggs remain unbroken. This anecdote doesn't illustrate much other than how grateful we should be that all those 12 shells are intact when we get that box home. Back to friendship. According to the first result on Google aka Wikipedia, friendship is a relationship between two or more people who hold mutual affection for one another.

I would totally agree that is what friendship was but not anymore. Facebook and those other fuckers like the instant gram, and perhaps MySpace if that’s your thing.. have changed that. My thesis, which I am currently not writing or even close to finding the motivation to write, is on socio technical contexts. That makes me sound fancy and like I am sitting here in square frames typing away on my Probookapple as I sup on espresso but its really just about how heavily technology is embedded in our lives. Facebook is such an arsehole. Sure the concept has made Zucks mega rich and snagged him a reals pretty and smartypants Asian babe wife and they will have glorious looking children despite his sub standard looks but he totally screwed us and future generations with this invention he partially invented.

Last week I went to the Shrine of Remembrance. I regularly go there as of earlier this year. It’s a rare find - an outdoor place where people feel obliged to be quiet and you can really do some great thinking from the balcony where you feel semi godlike being up above it all. Also, there is lots of green, bright vivid G R E E N grass and trees to stare at, so if you feel like thinking I suggest heading there but avoid school excursion time where there is little regard for the quiet rule. So I was at The Shrine and I overheard this boy maybe 14 yelling (how dare he, it’s the Shrine) to a new friend he had made ‘ok see ya. Add me on Facebook’. Boom. Sealed his fate.

Facebook has created all these planes of friends. I have friends on my Facebook that I see at various intervals and then I have lots of non friends on my book who are technically my ‘friends’ because that is the language that Facebook has imposed and I don't really quite understand what the ‘acquaintances’ list does… Some girls- I am facebook friends purely to perve on their photatoes - there are so many perfectly formed box gaps in this world. Some I am friends with because I met them on some brief holiday where you all promise to meet in the exact same spot at the exact same time next year because oh my god we really did connect on another level… and then I have various REAL friends (as the wiki definition suggests) who I can send text messages full of emoji’s and they have to guess which beyonce song it is. Friendship used to be with the people who called you on a telephone and the people you shared stories with and meals with and if you are lucky shared stories over meals.

I recently had to do a ‘I really hope we can be friends again’ and it got me thinking about egg breakages but also what that friendship would be. Would we share stories over meals? Preferably really funny stories over chilli burgers? Stories where you do so much silent laughing you wipe the tears from your eyes and end up with chilli in your eyes? or would this person occasionally like my status update when I am travelling overseas or check in to my first strip club or land a new job or adopt a cute new puppy (yes I am visualising many successes in my future). Because literally, that could be a friendship because Facebook has stretched what friendship is. And I was terrified because I want a real friendship like what Wikipedia has told me, I don't want ‘likes’ or ‘pokes’ or obligatory facebook told me its your birthday so “HB xxx” (unless it comes with a picture of a cute animal in a birthday hat).

A la…

Or

Perhaps the very fact I am obsessing over what type of friendship it will be is a product of my socio technical context where I can manipulate and decide what level of friendship I have with someone? Facebook lets one party be in control, there need not be mutual affection. Perhaps I should just relax and realise that real friendship can't really be manipulated and you just have to accept that sometimes there will be burgers and sometimes just pokes.

Robyn says:

Will you tell me once again 

How we're gonna be just friends? 

If you're for real and not pretend 

Then I guess you can hang with me 

And she is pretty sexy and cool so listen to her and value your real friendships and hang with the good eggs and hang with dogs in party hats. Konichiwa bitches.

-boots x

ps. can someone fix my font?

you can plan a pretty picnic

So it has been about 2 years since i put finger to keyboard within the confines of this blog thing. Nothing kills your motivation to write or share stories than a silly contract you sign which forces you to write and share stories. And that didn't work out so well for me. I had roughly 8 months of mentoring from an amazing editor based in NYC, a lady with real pazzazzzz. I really respected Gillian. She always had great shoes. She wore louboutins on her transatlantic flights and when she came to London to see me (i'm sure she had other business to attend to but indulge me) she would take me to some super fancy restaurants and order very specific wines because she really knew about the vino. She would comment about 'the body' and for a long time i thought she meant the shape of the bottle which the waiter had only briefly showed us. yeah, she could use a myriad of great descriptors for 'the body'. it was pretty sexy. But the mentoring was not for me. Even though on paper i am the studious type who needs Gold Stars and ticks and 10/10's and critique (as long as it is positive) from learned types that I respect, writing under the direction of a mentor became un fun. She made me use full stops (and not in the form of an ellipses) and commas and question marks and spell words corrrektly and then my writing lost its character.

The other thing which kills a blog predominantly about boy-catching and sometimes girl-catching is catching a boy (or girl but in this case boy). Try this: Type: I can only write when i'm into Google (you need suggestions turned on) And it will suggest: i'm high, i'm sad, i'm drunk. I was none of those things for the entirety of aforementioned relationship. I was sitting on a couch infront of a TV a lot (i know you are thinking that should have made me sad), i ate a lot of eggs florentine in the local cafe (but I was never high) and for some reason I lost my ability to reflect on anything and squeeze joy out of my world and slap it on paper or a computer screen. I also started to consume meat again and i'm sure it's not realistic to suggest this but I'd be interested to know if people google "I can only write when i'm vegetarian" because for a while there I believed that to be the case.


At the end of 2011 i was in two minds. To stay in London or to head back home to Melbourne and hit the books. London is a fantastic city and I have very fond memories (oh shit I digressed too early, so I guess you have worked out I headed back to Melbs). I made some exceptional friends, real friends who I respect and have a permanent little space just for them in my heart but it is also the most transient city - I lived from pay check to pay check even when I had the luxury of not needing to pay hefty rent. I have a bad feeling a friend in London is reading this and thinking 'but you used to catch cabs everywhere' and that was true for a very lavish month BUT i stand by my statement regardless - it is a very expensive city and its difficult to save or feel like you are getting ahead! eww i hate that exclamation mark but in the spirit of not editing...


So I packed up my LDNLIFE and headed back home at the end of Feb 2012. And it was hard. I think it is called reverse culture shock. You think you know what to expect but everything surprises you. For example, the twang of the australian accents of Qantas flight attendants... where on earth (in Australia) do they find these women? And i struggled to feel settled. But i started my masters degree and just put my head down and poured myself into my study. I wanted exceptional marks and from Wk One I was all out to get them. My friends were patient with me. They let me cancel on plans for dates with my computer. And at the end of my first semester all that effort had paid off.. I had perfect grades and at that point in time it meant the world to me.

As my first semester was drawing to a close, I started playing with the idea of perhaps doing my doctorate degree in the States. I am forever drawn to the Americas (well just the northern fella) so I asked for a recommendation from an academic and then I emailed and enquired (inquired?) to a range of universities with business schools which 'spoke' to me, on some subconscious level which I cant explain. Thats a lie, porky pie. I can explain. I looked at New York because some of my dearests live there, some of the most loyal and lovely people I know. I then looked at a whole host of other schools which were big on the college basketball circuit because I have always dreamt about being an NBA WAG and facts are facts you need to snag them young. I started a nice little email exchange with Stern Business School (NYU mo-fuckers!!!) and they literally propelled me to another galaxy... it was a really possibly. Just a GMAT was standing in my way. My elation was not really hampered when I skyped my distant male friend (it feels weird calling him my boyfriend although i guess he once was) in the UK and told him he just wasnt part of my plans. That sounds rough and very awful of me and i tortured myself for months before doing it but it really just boiled down to one phone call on my part and a few angry emails on his part.

So then I have this period of time to catch you up on. From June 2012 to March 2013. And so much happened and although i find writing comes to me easily when I am sad, it IS truly the greatest therapy for me. I just can't write it down. It was literally euphoria and heart break. that's about all I can say. The safest I have felt and the most optimistic I have been about my future but also shock and hurt and a lot of questioning of why things unfold how they do. you really can't predict the weather. Funnily enough, I have always kept a journal (since I was 15) yet during this period I stopped. I just didnt feel the need to analyse or document or live warily. I don't know what that means... probably because I dont have my journal as evidence. Perhaps I just dived right in... it scares me to think perhaps this was the first time I participated wholly without thinking about the consequences. Anyways this paragraph makes me cringe. I want this place to be a safe environment (condoms provided in the bathroom) where I warm your belly.

Now it is April. I'm finding school trivial, job opportunities unexciting and just a general lack lustre for participating wholly in life. I just turned 26 and just like every year I have reflected and feel I have achieved very little in more than a quarter of a century worth of annums. Thats pretty icky to read too. However, I also get great joy from seeing my god daughter who is 3 months old smile up at me when she is milk drunk and I have seen every Beyonce GIF man has ever made. So its not all that bad.

-boots

ps. is this font too small?