The Big Dream and The Get-me-out-of-here

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There is a pandemic sweeping the lives of the late-twenty-early-thirty-something year olds who don’t have children, might have fur-babies and wake up one day asking themselves WHAT THE FUCK.

If you are reading this and taking a big deep breath because you realize you are not alone, you are welcome. If this awakens a long dormant sleeping dragon of thought that you suspected existed but you couldn’t fully recognize, then I apologize – because shiiiiit I am about to justify every niggle you ever felt.

We, the unsettled settled are out there and we are hungry, we are stubborn, we are restless and we are bursting out of our skins. Indulge me in self indulgence all you traditionalists.

Over countless coffee’s and beers, I’ve had the same conversation over and over again. The “I am stuck in a rut and I don’t even know how to get out because I’m too damn tired” one, where educated, hardworking, passionate people, lament the thought bubble we are stuck in. We were told we could have it all. So where is it? Cookie please!

The new normal is that we want to have jobs we like, we want to travel the world, have a couple babies, maybe get married and be able to afford it all while the job market around us is like “JK bae, 10+ years experience, no benefits, $38k pa and you cool with working unpaid overtime and weekends? Holla at me!” and the dating scene is a revolving door of fuckboys and girls who can’t make eye contact with anything but their phones. The news is going: Don’t even THINK about getting on a train/plane or congregating anywhere in public in case of shootings/bombings/knife attacks and our parents are getting older and more dependent. That isn’t depressing. No siree.

Believe me, I’m aware of how lucky I am. I’m writing this to you from a first world country that I am allowed to live in because my parents were born in the right place and got me a “good” passport. If I sound articulate or intelligent by any stretch, it’s because I am also educated thanks to that same birth place, and the guidance of two excellent people who poured money into my brain (via the veins of formal instructional institutions). I’m white, which means I hopefully wont get shot for no reason in my car, and I’m female, which puts me at an advantage or a disadvantage depending on who you talk to, and so long as I’m not running for president.

And listen, I’m the first person to call people out on #firstworldproblems. Believe me. I’ve walked on the sidelines of poverty, I know that there are deeper issues at play in our world than the demented cries of a person who can’t afford the new iPhone.

But if there is one thing I have learned over the last few months of the ups and downs, it is that you can’t just push away things that you feel, and you can’t panic or beat yourself up because you feel them (thanks Mum) or because you are so preoccupied with keeping up the pretences that you have your shit together on social media. We know you don’t have your shit together…we’ve been to your apartment.

I feel it and I’m calling it out. The transition from hopefully graduate to slightly more jaded adult is not that fun at the moment. It’s not cute any more that we feel directionless. This isn’t Sex and the City where our lack of partners is because there is just too much dick to choose from. Our parents are sitting us down telling us they’d “like to see us get on the property ladder” and we’re agreeing with them whole heartedly as we open another letter about our student loans and wondering if we’ll get scurvy if we eat no-brand frosted flakes five nights a week for dinner.

We all started out with such big dreams! We went to school and we played along and we were encouraged to day-dream about what we “wanted to be” when we grew up. And then half of us fell off the wagon somewhere after high school and shrugged and realized that our job’s maybe don’t have to be our careers. Then we split up again when some of us realized that we’d give up that dream job for the security of that paycheck, or the option to travel with work. Those of us that have stayed the course  are more often than not slamming our faces into our laptops in the public library when we are on the hunt for the next job or big break AGAIN, thinking about escaping through English teaching in Asia or “how much DOES selling your *insert body part or fluid* really pay?”

I don’t have the solution to the twentythirtysomething malaise, and no matter how I google it (or Bing it… just kidding The Bing is dead, long live the Bing), no advice post or computer filtered answer can make my decisions for me (though I’d invest in the app that could).

All I know is that personally, I live happiest in the carnage and constant movement of work and sensory overload – when there are TOO many plates spinning in the air (because when that happens, how could I possibly have time to turn inwards). That lifestyle doesn’t really jive-turkey with the expiring “rising-of-the-ladder” career trajectory theory, and I’m tired of trying to be a square peg in a round hole.

Success is measured in many different ways, which is a topic for another day.

But for today – for those this resonates with, just know that you are not alone, and I’ve come to know, for myself anyway, that is the door doesn’t open, I’m just going to have to buy a sledge hammer. The coffee is on me when it comes to these conversations, because maybe if we stack our thoughts and idea’s one on top of each other, we’ll find a way to climb out of these ruts.

 

Rob Ford aka What I learned about getting famous I learned from Toronto’s Mayor

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When I was in Los Angeles (or as us in the know call it L.A *ehem*) and then at Sundance Film Festival (that would be in Utah, or as us in the know call it…Utah…) lots of people asked me where I was based. Most people (or so it seemed) were divided into New York people (dark clothes, dark glasses, trendy haircuts) LA people (trendy clothes, dark glasses, tanned, Wheatgrass, Goji berry smoothie drinkers) or those who commuted between the two cities (obviously very very important types in the know in both cities. Dark glasses, coffee…perhaps recreational substance abuse?)

So when I answered that actually I was based in Toronto – people were confused. Like, why would you live there? (Lately with the temperature hovering around 0 degrees Celsius for going on 5 months, I ask myself the same question) LA or New York were the only answers they expected.

Though initially confused, there was always almost one follow up question that I began to expect.

“Hey, wait a minute! Isn’t Toronto where Rob Ford is from?! Man I love that guy!”

Yup. People knew about that tiny insignificant city that was neither New York or GASP LA and they knew about it because of the Mayor.

Does the name Rob Ford ring a bell?

Perhaps it doesn’t. Perhaps you’ve been living under a rock. Or perhaps you’ve had other, newsworthy stories on your mind like the ongoing political tension in Ukraine/Russia/The Middle East/Africa (circle one depending on month), the fact that Gwenyth Paltrow and her husband are “uncoupling” or  where the fuck the Malaysian airlines plane is …

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Let me enlighten you.

Rob Ford is the Mayor of Toronto. He was voted into power before I arrived in this fair country and even before the scandal that broke, that rocketed him to Jimmy Kimmel fame, people were talking about how he sucked and was a shitty Mayor. I remember when I first arrived he was doing some kind of weight loss challenge that he failed miserably and gave up on (duh look at him). Probably a terrible idea considering the man is extremely hefty, and looks like a rounder, redder, meaner version of the Fat controller.

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So what did Rob Ford do to gain notoriety?

If you guessed “sex video” you’re not far off.

I mean, what have we learned from the likes of Paris Hilton and Kim Kardashian? If you want the easy, quick way to fame and fortune – make a sex tape and have it get “leaked” on the internet. It probably needs to involve someone semi-famous, or you have to be from a family that like, owns hotels or like, gets murderers acquitted, but really once you’ve got that down you can be mega famous and sleep with whoever you want and have your own reality TV show & fragrance line!

Nope, while a Rob Ford sex tape has yet to surface, the reason this excellent specimen of male physique is known the world over (no seriously, my mum was on a train in Hong Kong and they were talking about him on the local news) is because:

He smoked crack.

And there is a video of it. And everybody saw it.

Yup. The Mayor of Toronto got to go on Jimmy Kimmel (notice me Jimmy!), and is loved the world over (by people he doesn’t actually represent) because of a video where he smoked crack.

He is “The Crack Smoking Mayor of Toronto.”

He is a fucking joke when it comes to his credibility, but there is a staunch group that LOVE this guy because of his flaws (and his perceived keeping down of the taxes).

I wish I was kidding.

There is NO WAY a political leader in Australia could withstand this kind of scandal and mockery. I’m not sure if there are many places in the world where a candidate could outside of uber liberal Toronto.

And to add to the farce, Rob Ford has continued with his ridiculousness, making cringe-worthy comments to the media that make for excellent soundbite and get the Newspapermen jizzing in their jeans:

“I get more than enough to eat at home” (In regards to infidelity outside his marriage)

“Yes, I have smoked crack cocaine. But am I an addict? No. Have I tried it? Probably, in one of my drunken stupors.’’ (In regards to said video – after vigorously denying its existence/ his crack use)

“Women love money. Give ’em a couple thousand bucks and they’re happy” (In regards to what he was getting his wife for Christmas)

Who is this guy!? And where are his handlers?! Surely there is a PR  out there willing to take his money and turn his image around!? Why won’t he stop digging himself deeper into a notorious hole? Why was he the first candidate to lodge his papers to run for Mayor again.

And why do I care? I live here in Toronto to be sure, but I’m not Canadian, and they sure are making it as hard as possible to become a permanent resident. I couldn’t even tell you the name of the Mayor of Sydney or the Mayor of Hong Kong (do we even have Mayors there?) and I care very little for politics.

Perhaps I care, because like the Americans I know, I am a sucker for drama, reality shows where people self-destruct, and the craziness of human folly that I can enjoy from the comfort of my couch.

If Ford has taught me one thing though, it’s that fame and Jimmy Kimmel are only a crack video away….

31 Things I care more about than who is in Government in Australia

Classy former Prime Minister/Ranga

Classy former Prime Minister/Ranga

31. How many Twitter followers do I have?

30. How long is too long to go without changing your sheets?

29. Will my Roommate notice if I steal a bit of her butter

28. How can I get more views on my Blog?

27. Who got voted out of Big Brother USA this week.

26. Would I be skinnier if I became a vegetarian?

25. Is Breaking Bad as good as they say?

24. Should I be more concerned about the environment?

23. Whats the cheapest way to get drunk?

22. The amount of sugar in Sprite and whether or not I’ll become a diabetes patient if I keep drinking the amount I do.

21. My socks and why I keep losing just one of each pair.

20. Will I get wrinkles if I always leave my makeup when I go to bed due to laziness/waterproof indestructible makeup?

19. Dim Sum, and how to have as much of it in my body at any one time.

18. If my hair looks nice today.

17. What does KCCO mean? (I am so uncool)

16. Why doesn’t the wifi always work in my room?

15. Who really shot Kennedy?

14. Shoes.

13. Is that guy looking at me or the girl behind me?

12. One time I sprayed my JLo perfume on something that was damp and wore it and now every time I wear that perfume I get that sensory thing where it reminds me of wearing something damp. Should I chuck out that perfume?

11. Keeping my room clean.

10. Do I instagram too much?

9. Animals.

8. Reddit.

7. Ninja’s, and how I can reasonably become one with little no effort.

6. Is Facebook like, so over?

5. Getting a Job.

4. Scrubbing the bath tub.

3. Why do people keep thinking I’m British?

2. Will Amy Poehler and Will Arnett ever get back together?

1. Who the American president is.

No but seriously. From what I can see (on my Facebook feed, because that is as far as my research will go on this matter), Australian Politicians are a bunch of Juvenile babies who bicker and stab each other in the back. It’s like a more boring version of a soap opera I wouldn’t watch even if I was in a hospital with both my legs and arms broken and had no way to change the channel (I could always just stop breathing.)

Australian politics feels very far away from my perch in Toronto and I think it is bizarre that I am being forced to vote for people that I feel don’t really have any governance over my life (okay technically the dooooo).

The only issue that elicits any depth of feeling is Marriage equality, and sadly, it seems that is a long way off.

Vote or we’ll fine you. Proud to be an Australian