Confucius says…

Not that I’m wise or anything, but if I had to give you one piece of advice before I died, it would be this:

Don’t fool yourself in to thinking it’s you and anyone else against the world.

People are assholes by nature because like any other living thing, we have a drive to survive. So remember, things might be all sunflowers and daisies when they have nothing to lose, but the moment their ass is on the line, you see their true colours.

So instead of being knocked over when you realise it’s really just you against the world, prepare yourself for it now.

xoxo

Ally

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The grass is always greener on the other side.

One day I’ll go to New York and get lost in all it’s beauty and chaos. I’ll live in a tiny studio apartment in Manhattan, given my upper-middle-tier income, and I’ll walk my tiny chihuahua through Central Park as the sun lowers over the West Side. When the winter comes, I’ll welcome Thanksgiving, my first White Christmas, and the coveted “New Years in Times Square”.

I’ll be another nameless face, squeezing through the crowded streets of Midtown Manhattan to my nine to howeverlongovertimeruns job. That is until the barista at the cafe I’ll frequent everyday knows my name- and my order. I’ll watch the pounds pack on as I make Katz’s Deli my second home. I’ll sit in the exact spot Billy Crystal and Meg Ryan sat in When Harry Met Sally, day dreaming about “the-one” who will sit opposite me.

I’ll watch a broadway show every week! Ticket for one please. I’ll frequent the top of the Empire state building! Ticket for one please.

I’ll wander Fifth-Avenue and be entranced by its prestige, before making several astronomically priced purchases. I’ll even nibble at a pastry outside the Tiffany’s store before heading home. Then I’ll sit in my apartment surrounded by the emptiness of commercialism, listening to the honk of traffic, the blaring of sirens, and the silence of my life, day-dreaming about the city of Paris, in which I’ll one day live.

Boredom and monotony are the parents of reality TV

I had high hopes for my blog. I wanted it to be more philosophical and enlightening than a line out of The Great Gatsby-

“to-morrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther. . . . And then one fine morning— So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past”

But no. A friend said she enjoyed it for light reading. So here I am bringing it down to Keeping Up With the Kardashians level.

Here’s a few stories about some inconsequential things that have happened to me in the past few days.

  • As I strode quickly across the Pyrmont Bridge, on my way home, I heard a gruff, manly voice shouting in the distance. It turned out to be a stout old lady shouting at a Ranger. God knows what she was shouting about but as I walked past I heard him say “I’m here… because I’m protecting people like you, from getting run over by bikes.” I stopped in my tracks and waited till the old lady waddled away before I approached the ranger. I said to him, “Don’t worry. That lady was a massive gronk. As a victim of being run over by a bike myself, I can say I truly appreciate the work you do”. To end the story, there may have been a tear or two of gratitude shed, or not.

  • So as I was strolling through Town Hall station, I became extremely thirsty. Because I was too lazy to make a trip to the Commbank ATM (right outside Woolworths), I decided to get a drink at the Asian convenience store because they accepted EFTPOS. But… oh no. There was a minimum spend of $10. So at the height of my laziness, instead of getting my ass 50 meters up to the ATM, I decided I’d just buy $10 worth of Asian snacks to reach the minimum. Fast forward thirty minutes, my train arrives in Hurstville. As usual, I was in lala land and I didn’t realise I had reached my destination. That is until I looked outside the window and thought to myself, “hey, this platform kinda looks like Hurstville. Oh shit, it is Hurstville”. To my relief, the train was doing that thing where they stop on the platform for five minutes or so before going anywhere. I hurriedly grabbed my sack of gold and ran up the stairs towards my freedom. This next part of the story is the vertex to the inverse parabola that represents this story: As I exited the train my plastic bag, carrying my goodies, broke and my $10 fell in to the eternal darkness of the train tracks. That day, I’m pretty sure my inner happy died a little. I think God was trying to send me a message.

  • This story isn’t just something that’s happened to me in the past few days, but something I’ve begun to do within the past few weeks. There’s a cafe two doors down from my work place. I used to get coffee from them pretty much every single day. That is until I discovered a better cafe just upstairs from them. So now – every day- after I get my coffee, I take the long way around to get to work just so I don’t have to walk past the first cafe and hurt the barista’s feelings.
  • That’s probably how the barista feels, though. And probably how you all feel about my stories.

My terrible ordeal.

I just need you all to know what a push-over I am (sad face).

You’re either going to stare at your computer in awe after this story, or you’ll laugh at my weakness (don’t worry, I’ll hear your laughter through the world wide web).

Today I innocently wandered in to General Pants Co. on Pitt St, not really looking to buy anything, but kind of just satisfying my urge to browse/window shop. I hadn’t even browsed through the sale rack (as a poor uni student does) for two seconds when out pops a sales assistant with wide gleaming eyes.

“Hi! Can I help you with anything today?” she asks enthusiastically.

Go away. I was thinking.

I don’t know, I’m one of those people who just likes to shop in zen mode. I don’t like having to make small talk with shop assistants. I kind of just like to do mah thang and get out. The less of a connection you have with them, the easier it will be to walk out without buying anything.

Because I’m polite and don’t enjoy palming people off bluntly, I smiled and replied “No thanks, just browsing.”

Yes that should do the trick.

NO. No. It. Didn’t.

She made a comment about how early it was for someone to be shopping, and then managed to get a full conversation out of me. She chatted with me as I browsed around the store- she asked about my life for God’s sake! I felt bad if I didn’t at least try anything on, so… I tried a few things on.

And then followed a sequence of events that would lead to an hour and a half’s worth of time I’ll never get back.

As I was in the change room trying on my few items, the sales attendant would giddily skip back to the change room garnering armfuls of clothes for me to try on. I had to try them on… it would be rude of me not to (sad face).

So this whole ordeal left me torn. Now it would be really rude of me not to buy anything. After all the help this lovely shop assistant’s given me. After mustering up so much effort to feign interest in my boring life, or what would look good on me.

So I did it. I bought a few overpriced pieces of clothing I didn’t really want.

As soon as I left the store, I wanted to return the items. And… that’s what I did. I began scheming about how I would return the items. I thought about going back the next day during lunch hour- fingers crossed she wasn’t working then. Instead I called up the World Square branch and asked them if I was able to refund at their store despite making the purchase at another store location.

Their answer was music to my ears. Yes. Yes I could return it at their store.

So I marched down there to return my gratuitous purchase, and get my arm and a leg back.

I would say the shop assistant callously toyed with my good-nature, and forced me to buy the clothing.

But no folks, I’m just a push-over.

And that’s that.

(sad face)