Rotten to the core

Have you ever eaten an apple that looked perfectly fine on the outside, but to your disgust, was rotten on the inside? You couldn’t have known though, right? Even the apple’s flesh tasted fine – In fact in addition to the red and shiny exterior, the interior was deliciously juicy! In fact, only when you got to the core the apple was rotted and black.

Unfortunately our lives are filled with so many people like these rotten apples. They are so good at making themselves look beautiful on the outside – waxed and buffed to trick you in to biting in to them. They charm you with their perfectly crafted smiles, and know exactly what to say to get you to believe that they are on your side. They continue to be nice to you until you become disposable. Then they will stop making the effort and stick a knife in your back the moment you turn around.

That is just how some people are. They are incapable of being unselfish, and have no regard for others.

If you’ve ever done first year psychology at uni, I’m sure you’ll be familiar with Piaget’s theory of the stages of development. Up until the age of roughly about seven, we are at a “pre-operational” stage. One characteristic of this stage is having an egocentric view of the world. Having an egocentric perspective means you are only able to consider things from your own point of view and you imagine that everyone shares this view, because it is the only one possible. Some people are just stuck at this stage- perhaps because their parents enabled them to avoid decentering.

And that is part of what makes these people rotten at the core.

So how can you avoid said people?

Well unfortunately my friends, there is no way of getting rid of these people from our lives. They are omnipresent and lurk in every corner of your uni life, your work place, and even in your place of worship.

The best, and only, way is to approach people with caution. Don’t bite in to the apple until you’ve cut it in half to check the core.

There’s a difference between being polite, and being open and trusting to someone.

You can smile and exchange pleasantries with whomever you want, but when it comes to trusting someone, don’t base the trust on wide smiles, gleaming teeth, and a great sense of humour.

Buyers beware: Withhold all trust until you’ve spent a good amount of time getting to know someone based on one on one time with them. Because it is outside of large groups these people show their true colours.


Peak hour traffic.

As I was driving in peak hour traffic today, I realised that life is kind of like driving in peak hour traffic.

When an opportunity comes by it’s kind of like seeing a gap, wide enough, for you to cut in to the fast lane. Hesitate -and you’ll miss it.

Suddenly, you’re stuck in the slow lane. You feel like you’re in a rut because you’re not moving anywhere. Meanwhile, the cars in the other lanes speed past you while you sit in a pool of regret at not having switched lanes.

But like being stuck traffic, it’s not the end of the world. Because at the end of the day, you’ll still get to where you wanted to go. The only difference is, you took longer to get there because you were taking the slow lane.

Because the cosmos/god/whateverdeityyouchoosetobelievein works in mysterious ways, you sometimes even end up getting there faster than the dudes in the other lane- because for some reason their lane slowed down.

So hey, if you missed an amazing opportunity, don’t sweat it. Not only will you get there in the end, but you’ll always have other opportunities, and missing the first one might even turn out to be the best thing that’s happened for you.


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.