Warhol's Children - 4 Dimensions of Normal

This article appeared here on the 22nd of October, 2012:
http://warholschildren.me/post/34068726695/4-dimensions-of-normal

AdNews.com.au - December 5, 2011

This article appeared here on the 5th of December, 2011:
http://www.adnews.com.au/blog-post/the-adnews-ngen-blog-better-never-than-late-is-time-more-than-just-money

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MX - March 28, 2011

mX - 28th March, 2011. Published in Sydney, Melbourne and Brisbane. Readership 75,000+

This article was edited to fit the word count. Please see below for original article submitted:

ARTICLE

I did it again. It gets me every time. I don't know why, but without fail, I still cry like a loser every time I watch The Notebook.   

Huddled into my makeshift blanket-fort, the waterworks were on auto-pilot as I watched Noah try to convince Allie she should be with him, about the hundreds of letters he wrote her while he was in the war, and how despite the constant fighting, he still desperately wanted to be with only her. By the end of this scene (and don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about), I literally always find myself adopting the foetal position, teary eyed with mucus uncontrollably trailing out of my nostrils, rocking back and forth contemplating why all the men in the world can't be like Noah Calhoun.

My friends tell me I have high expectations of people; especially men. I am unforgiving when it comes to being late, merciless when it comes to forgetting anniversaries, and non accepting of anything that shows lack of effort or preparation. I know men aren’t wired to think like I do, so I don’t necessarily blame them.

I blame romantic comedies.

The bane of male existence, “chick flicks” have a cult following of women who have been sucked into this twisted mentality that men actually know a thing or two about relationships. I am no exception to this. I have fallen into the dark portal that is Hollywood’s too good to be true scripting, which has triggered myself and women alike to expect heroic displays of affection and chivalry by men on a regular basis. Romantic movies aren’t real. They’re a mirage; and for one reason or another I’ve lost sight of the fact that any movie starring Jennifer Aniston or Julia Roberts is probably not based on society’s norm.

The reason women want to believe in these movies so badly isn’t because they expect men to be perfect. Women just want to feel special, or superior to their friends in some way. The same reason they love shopping, getting manicures and all those other waste of money schemes we come up with. Women are profoundly deep creatures who possess maturity that looks beyond the glimmer of the knight’s shining armour, but if you think that we are more concerned with a man’s intentions, rather than these superficial gestures, you’re wrong.

Women want everything. They want someone strong, yet sensitive. Spontaneous, yet prepared. Rugged, yet refined.... You can’t question the complex infrastructure that is the female mind. You just have to accept it.

Maybe the love of my life won’t spend seven years single-handedly building my dream house with his bare hands. Maybe he won’t plan an extravagant cross-country scavenger hunt for me on his deathbed to cure my inevitable mourning. Maybe he won’t even think to compile a “period mix-tape” for me when I am suffering the wrath of menstrual cramping. Fine. 

I know life doesn’t always happen like it does in the movies; but please go a little further than grabbing the 3-pack of Fererro Rochers at the Woolies counter on your way out on Valentine’s Day. Contrary to what the song says, cutting a hole in a box to put your ‘junk’ in isn’t quite going to cut it for Christmas either.

All women want is to feel special, and maybe a story to spark jealousy amongst their friends, because let’s face it; women are women. So I think we should meet half way. Men should take notes from the character of Noah Calhoun, and women should go easy on the rom-coms.

MX - Feb 22, 2012

This might be a little hard to read. See below for the article.

Article

For those of us who are regular commuters on peak hour trains; we have seen it all. We know the battleground the platform becomes, the strategic movements needed to survive, and the primitive beasts that are released from within us all.

After a long day at the office, we know our greatest obstacle is still to come, for even the slightest chance of a seat on the train sparks social Darwinism. It is survival of the fittest, and only the most elite, most tactical and premeditated plan of attacks will prevail. Sure, you can know the general area to stand where the train doors stop, but that eliminates only the most naïve of competition. You need to plan much further ahead to last in combat of this calibre.

Over the years, some of the more cunning methods I’ve witnessed from travelers have been from:

-          The oversized-backpack wearer: The pack acts both as a weapon of mass sabotage as well as an improvised shield. You could be a peak hour connoisseur, but if you’re standing behind an oversized-backpack wearer, forget it! It is Mario kart triple banana peel damage to your game.

-          The sneaky pusher inner-er: A necessary technique needed to outlast the competition is to monitor your position. Stand your ground, be vigilant of your surroundings and do not lose focus. For if you become distracted, even for a second, you could fall prey to one of these bad-boys. One moment you’re standing in your usual spot, right where the doors open up, next thing you know, you’ve got a sneaky pusher inner-er standing right in front of you, costing you your chance for a seat.

And the most vicious of commuters…

-          The seemingly fragile elderly woman: Have you ever seen poison ivy? It looks so delicate and unassuming. But it is a merciless plant. It will strike whoever crosses its path with no regard for anyone but itself. Seemingly fragile elderly women are not what they appear to be at all. They have roamed this land for much longer, they know the ways of the front line well. These are the opponents you need to be wary of. For when you are afraid of using your best attacks, they will completely assault your entire being in order to get ahead.

The train charges in; sweat dripping from your brow, you use your peripheral vision to eye your rivals. 

The train stops.

Three.
Two.

One.

The doors open.

FIGHT!

It is complete anarchy. Whistles blowing, arms flailing, computer-generated voices announcing various destinations... The guy with the huge backpack is using his oh so clever side to side movement to ensure any hope potential challengers behind him may have are shattered at the face of his backpack. You see crowds stampeding into the carriage, and what little seats are left are filling up fast. You panic. The elderly woman has already begun bewitching the crowds with her “weak” façade. You have to do it. You resort to your best defiance in the realm of the peak-hour train.

You wail out loud and fake a broken ankle. It is the only way.

Hobbling onto the train, you take your throne of triumph, and rightfully so.

Degree (University of Western Sydney publication) - September 28, 2009

Published in Degree, 28th September, 2009

This article was written as a "head 2 head" piece, which essentially is a written debate. The topic was "Is society too tolerant?" and I was writing for the against side of the argument.

This was written quite a few years ago, so my writing style has advanced significantly since.