Facebook – will you be remembered as modern-day diary, or the greatest exaggerator of all time?

It’s 2013, and it is now abundantly clear that we feel compelled to update (or do we subject?) friends to a summary of everything that happens in our lives. Yep, I’m talking about the trusty status update. We’ve seen the likes of ‘nite nite friends, I’m off to bed’ and ‘shopping for shoes’. Hey, I’m not judging, I have posted my fair share of complaints and pointless observations – I’m in no position to cast any stones.

But this status update thing has me thinking – have our lives become exponentially more interesting, or is it that we have set the threshold for what is ‘update-worthy’ WAY too low? The short answer is quite comfortably the latter. But is it just our generation? What would our ancestors have done if they had access to Facebook? Would a caveman’s typical Facebook status have been: ‘want woman, hungry…fish’? For those cavemen unlucky in love, would they have posted: ‘why when want woman – no woman, but when want fish…plenty fish?’ (perhaps an alternative source for the saying ‘there are plenty more fish in the sea’?). Would they have updated their fellow cavepeople with all the trivial things we seem to make note of? Would a pre-historic Facebook be full of status updates like ‘firewood hunt’, and ‘weather bad’?  

But what if we have in fact missed things by not having Facebook? Whenever something happens nowadays, one of my first inclinations is to share it on Facebook (sad, I know). I’m transparent enough to accept that most of my material is pointless, and I see posts of others that definitely fit that description, too. But some of it could be things we might otherwise have missed out on telling people, or forgotten by the time we reached someone willing to listen.

Pre-Facebook, who did we tell of our heroics / failings / mishaps? Dammit, who the hell did we show our photos of cute cats playing with balls of yarn, or puppies getting stuck in boxes?  I can’t remember the pre-Facebook period too well, so I’m not sure what my initial reaction was when something happened to me. When public transport sucked back then (as it always has, and always will), who did we complain to? Half of our Facebook status updates (in Melbourne, at least) relate to our lacklustre transport system. When trains got cancelled, did we store that information and shake our fists at our families when we got home? When we bought shoes, how many people did we tell? How many people did we ask to like a statement regarding some unsubstantiated matter (and almost always definitely a hoax), and then guilt them into telling (at least 10 of) their friends to prove that they care? Did we carry around photos of animal cruelty and shame our meat-eating friends? Heck, did we gather all our friends at once and notify them that we were NOW in a relationship, as of xx/xx/20xx? I honestly can’t remember.

Maybe we do post too much. Most of it is crap, sure. I don’t know, maybe I live in the hope that some of it might actually be of use to someone some day. At least for lolz. Hopefully WITH us, rather than AT us. Maybe Facebook will be remembered as a modern-day diary that helped us collate our thoughts and experiences in a manner not available to our ancestors, rather than the world’s collective depository for bile, inanity, and selfies. I remember I once posted a sighting of a guy dressed in an Easter bunny suit, but with whips and chains (to which I noted that THIS was the Easter Bunny you’d be seeing if you’d been bad). Nobody believed me, but it definitely happened. I still remember it (unfortunately), and now it’s on Facebook, as a record of what I saw. Who knows what our ancestors saw? Sadly, they only had cave walls to write on. One day, I reckon we’ll find caves where cavepeople posted the very first wall posts – replete with selfies, and condemnations of the weather and the chronic lack of reliable travel.

I think we’re all suckers for increased opportunities and mediums to communicate with others.

I find it incredibly frustrating when I don’t know something. I’m one of those “sorry, guys – we gotta stop this graduation / work / wedding thing because there’s a song in my head and I cant remember the name…and I just have to Google it”. I like to be across everything, and I don’t feel that I am when I’m missing information.

A few examples…

Last week, I walked past a guy on the street.  Just as I crossed his path, I heard him say (to the  lucky person on the other end of the phone call)  ”my ass is on fire”. I wanted to hang around to get some further info / context, but I was too far along my stride that it would have been far too obvious. So now I’ll never know how this poor guy’s ass became to be on fire, and what the other person thought of it all. Did the fire ever get put out? Dear God, what does this even mean?

Just this week, I overheard someone tell his mate (and I quote, verbatim) “mate, I don’t give a F*CK – tell your mum to F*CK off and get the F*CK out of the spare room, then I can move in with ya”. Same as the first guy, I have no way of ever knowing the end to this story. Did this guy kick his mum out to the curb and let his mate (ever the gentleman) move into the spare room? Did his mate ever get new jeans (if this wasn’t high on his list, it should have been)?

Not long ago, I saw a girl who (I think) tripped at the gym while gangster walking (I think she just over gangster-leaned to the left). Now, I realise there is a chance she may have actually had a limp. But I will never know the end of that story, either.

I think I’m suffering a mid-story crisis. I’m hearing / seeing the middle portion of interesting stories, but I’m getting no closure. It’s like getting to hold an ice cream, but not being allowed to taste it. To make matters worse, the ice cream melts – and all I’m left with is sticky hands. Then I grab a stapler, make a phone call and, dammit, everything is sticky. Day. Ruined.

Thanks a lot, guys / girl.

Yesterday was a very big day for me. I announced my departure from my current 9 to 5 (read: 830 to 7+, more accurately) to commence a new 9 to 5 in Government. There are a stack of reasons for the move, but for now I want to discuss the change I hope it brings, and the crazy dream I had last nite.

The dream: I was in a hospital investigating a tax matter (that’s right – in a hospital, investigating a TAX matter), but instead of actually bothering with the tax thing (I’m easily distracted) I went off on my own frolic and ate all the chocolate in the hospital. Look guys, I have no idea what the hell that means. In fact, I think I was eating chocolate Easter bunnies – which throws the dream into a whole different dimension. I’ll just assume the dream is reminding me that I’m 1 million shades of strange, and so I’ll move on.

The change: I think the combination of a hectic personal / work life over the past 18 months (during which I got married, bought an apartment, got promoted, paid electricity bills, started a blog etc.) has taken its toll on me. Specifically, I think the built up stress and frustration has made me a somewhat (occasional!) bitter asshole – albeit in my own head. OK – I’ll provide a few examples. There is this guy who often catches the same train as me. He irks me because he sits down, takes his shoes off, places his feet ON his shoes (WHAT?), then proceeds to chew his smoothie. CHEW his smoothie, you ask? Yup – I don’t get it, and it bothers me. What also disturbs me is that he never does his tie. It just sits around his neck. HOW HARD is it to do your tie before you get to the train? EVERY FREAKING MORNING – same story. Oh, he wears this ridiculous hat. Another example.  There is this guy who uses ‘casual Friday’ to spike his hair up just a little bit. What the hell is that?? Nah, dude. You have to choose your hairstyle and stick to it. I could go on forever (which is scary), but I won’t.

Anyhoo, I hope that this change in job yields more regular dreams (or at least ones that make a shred of sense – although last night’s dream DID yield an awesome product I like to call ice cream taco, and that makes A LOT of sense). Hell, I might not even be bothered by that smoothie-chewing hat guy, or ‘spiky’.

I doubt it, though. Geez it’s annoying!! Muahahaha.

I can’t hold it in any longer, I need to confess. Peeps…I watched Celebrity Splash! For anyone overseas / smart enough to avoid all traces of this abomination, the basic premise is as follows: celebrities jump off diving boards (of various heights), to our amusement. For completeness, I just want to clarify ‘celebrities’ as follows:

• ‘Celebrities’
• ‘Celebrities’ who have slipped below ‘celebrity’ status  (I’m not even sure what you call that – it’s like purgatory between ‘celebrities’ and normal folk like you and I).
• Others (i.e. the infamous, long-forgotten and downright embarrassing).

Harsh? Yeah. But if you don’t believe me, watch it for yourself…

Continuing my post of shame…Did I enjoy it? I guess, in the sense that I was able to COMPLETELY switch off, and laugh at the hilarity of modern TV. That we have stooped so low as to almost literally throw our ageing cast-offs into a pool, and make a spectacle of it (with paid advertisers, mind you) is an embarrassment that I hope is not shared overseas.

Did I laugh? Sure. Have I laughed at moments in life that were (in hindsight) inappropriate? HELL YEAH. I feel bad about it, but I DID once laugh at a rather burly fellow flip OVER his scooter. I laughed, but I also went over to help him. This show is beyond that. I guess being at the end of the diving board is fitting for some of these guys, who are surely at the end of the line.

Here I am lambasting these poor people, but I bet you’re asking whether I will watch it again. Oh God,I hope not. But if I do, I’m going to enjoy it as the only hour of the day in which I truly shut everything down. It’s kind of hard to find that peace. So I guess there’s that.

As another week draws to and end, I find myself asking the same question I seem to ask myself every Friday morning – how the hell did I manage to survive another week at my 9 to 5? I never thought this is how it would be. When I was younger, I thought I’d be a fireman or a world-class soccer player. As it turns out, the closest I got to those dreams was to START a few fires (accidentally, guys), and be told by my year 12 soccer coach that he was surprised I wasn’t better given my Italian and Chilean heritage. He was two things – 1.right, and 2. an asshole. I was surprised he wasn’t a better teacher given his tertiary education and 20 years’ experience. Dammit, that would have been a solid zing back then. Damned hindsight.

Sometimes I sit and daydream, and wonder if I’ll be the next guy who invents his way into a new life – but then two things cross my mind. My first thought is of a purely semantic nature. I mean, is the term ‘inventor’ even relevant anymore? It seems so outdated. Plus, rightly or wrongly, I imagine an inventor to be someone who stays at home eating potato chips, and writing complaint letters all day. In any event, I think swankier terms like ‘entrepreneur’ and ‘industrial designer’ are all the rage now. But to be an entrepreneur I think you gotta have some existing cash / green / beans – and that’s the ‘gotta have money to make money’ school of thinking. Pfft.

Secondly, I’m not sure I possess the innovative streak required to create something new. I mean, I HAVE tried. I sit down, squint real hard and chew on pencils, but every idea I come up with has either been done (and passed), or is already sweeping the nation. No joke, each time I try to come up with the ‘next big thing’ – I jot down ‘chair with wheels’ with ucontainable excitement. SERIOUSLY. Then I move on to things that aren’t even relevant anymore (faxes), or far-fetched ideas that I know I can’t execute (i.e. a personal hovercraft WITH cup holders).

You know, the more I think about it, the more I reckon the person who invented the wheel with chairs (swivel chair – whatever) really stole my thunder. What an asshole.