Earning tax-free income; It's a hard life!

Life is for living, right? - I never want to be one of those people who looks back on their life and regrets not doing more. I guess that's why this week I decided it would be a good idea to go busking in the City during my lunch break. Partially for the performance practice, but more importantly for the experience; and what an experience it was....

My friend and I had the intention of performing at the Central station tunnel for 1 hour. We had no expectations of anyone giving us any money during this time. It was purely an exercise to help relieve us of the nerves for our upcoming open mic night performance tomorrow (but, more on that later).

We ended up cutting our set short because, frankly, the echoes coming through the tunnel of the Chinese erhu, tribal bongo drum rendition and middle-aged Opera singer were too much for my voice to try and compete with for any longer. We ended up performing for a solid 30 minutes, and in that time we had accrued $13.40 in small change. Yeah, that's right... you know you're on the big money when you're making money during your lunch break rather than spending it. Though, a good portion of this was thanks to some of my friends/work colleagues who were kind enough to walk by and donate some shrapnel.

Our competition:

He's going down next time.... I'll be waiting....

I will never forget the feeling of when we made our first cent. It had barely been 30 seconds of us standing there before an unsuspecting man flicked us 30 cents, like it was nothing, and continued walking. I froze for a second trying to comprehend what had just happened. A stranger just gave me money for my amateur street performance. Little did he know his small act of kindness was the beginning of my rekindled hope for humanity.
We were obviously not homeless or underprivileged in any sense, yet people still found it within their hearts to reach into their pockets and give. Some even sacrificing GOLD coins (for those not from Australia, gold coins are worth either 1 or 2 dollars), I mean, seriously... WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE WHO HAVE GOLD COINS TO THROW AWAY WILLY-NILLY? It amazed me. People's generosity and kindness seem to have disappeared over the years, but then experiences like this make you realise that there is still some good out there.

Some tips for anyone looking to busk is that choosing high traffic locations and song choice are definitely a major contributing factor to your income. We would perform a few of our lesser known favourites with little success, but every time we whipped out 'My Hero' by the Foo Fighters, we would be inundated with an overwhelming monsoon of money.

Felt like:

Was actually like:

Besides the benefit of tax-free income, 30 minutes of singing in the middle of Central station tunnel offered me so much more. It brought back a glimmer of faith in an otherwise hopeless society. It made me believe in goodness and kindness again, and made me want to be a better person because of it.

Our busking permits cost us $12 each, so until we hit the $24 mark in donations, we are yet to break even or make profit. We're thinking of trying a few different locations to compare the ROI on each so I will keep you all posted.

For anyone who is in Sydney, I will be performing 3 songs at an open mic night tomorrow (Monday) at the Hard Rock Cafe in Darling Harbour (level 2, Harbourside). Please come if you can make it, would be so great to see you and perform to more than just an empty room. I should be on around 8:30-9pm.

As always, I will see you back here next Sunday, my friend. If you get a chance, please show your support and like my Facebook page HERE.

High expectations Asian sister

Don't you hate those moments when you realise that you have become what you have always hated?

For those of you who don't know, I have a sister who is quite a lot younger than me. She is 10 years old and nearing the end of grade 5 in school which means she is only a year away from the inevitable social jungle that is high school. With this in mind, we've begun taking into account the different options available to her. Because there is such a huge age gap between us, I've been raising her as if she were my child also, and considering she still looks like she's about 5 years old it's been tough for me to think of my little minion growing up

This is a photo of us in our onesies a few years back, though it is still reflective of the relationship we have today.

After some pondering over the schools in the Blacktown region (for those unfamiliar with Blacktown/Sydney, please see "The Time I Had A Spontaneous Lesbian Threesome" for my brief rundown) I decided that I am going to do everything possible to prevent her from resorting to a local public high school due to the fact that neither teenage pregnancy, drug-addiction or juvenile detention are near the top of my list of priorities for her. 

The most obvious solution for me is to train her up to be a mathematical genius in the span of 4 months so she may qualify for a selective school. I know that teenage rebellion is inevitable no matter what school she attends, but this will at least create a divide between having to put up with frowned-upon behaviour and having to visit the police station with bail money.

In preparation for the selective school tests which will be held early next year I've produced a daily "study regime" for my sister to follow. Whilst I would describe this regime using words such as 'intensive' and 'thorough', others may see it more as 'unfair' or 'torcherous'. Though, for anyone who comes from my area, (and no offence to my friends who have come from public high schools in Blacktown), you would understand why I am so desperate for her to do selective school practice tests, be quizzed her on general knowledge of the world and participate in my small-scale home-dictatorship almost every night.

Although this may not be the most ideal method of showing her that I'm putting her through this ordeal because I know it will benefit her and I only have her best interest at heart, it's hard to break away from what you know. As a child, I too was brought up on authoritarian-like principles when it came to school-work and study. I wasn't allowed to watch my favourite TV show until I had fully recited multiple sets of times tables error-free, and completed my extra homework which I had "volunteered" to do. You'd think that these traumatic experiences would haunt me into making sure no one else would have to live these same experiences or face the same academic pressures, but it's proven to have the opposite effect.
Those methods worked, and I know no other way of implementing study discipline than the Asian nazi way my mother taught me. The apple really doesn't fall far from the tree and I hate to think that the pressure I'm applying on my sister to study and make it into a good school as well as the constant reminder of how disappointed I will be if she doesn't make it is completely identical, if not worse than the pressure I faced and hated as a child.

In other news, Halloween is this week and I went to this year's Halloween party dressed as an old (Australian) favourite.

Mr Squiggle - The man on the moon.

Do you have any similar ethnic parent studying horror stories? Also, if you have any experience on the selective school tests around Sydney, it would be great to hear any advice you might have for my sister.

Please feel free to leave a comment below and like my Facebook page HERE.

If at first you don't succeed, release the scorpions!

I don't know how well you deal with rejection, but as I've previously mentioned in 'Who knew swallowing could taste so good?', I'm a pretty sore-loser. I don't deal with rejection too well, especially if its on something I've actually worked hard on and am proud of.

If I feel that someone has done wrong by me, I have the ability to cut them out of my life and act as if they never existed. In one ruthless motion I can wipe out everything I ever knew about someone if I feel as though they no longer deserve any of my effort. I don't know whether that's a good thing or a bad thing as it is spawn from my own stubbornness, but when the editor of a newspaper rejected a couple of my articles late last year that's what I had set out to do; pretend he never hurt me and cease my readership of the paper as a silent, but justice-serving boycott.

After almost a whole year of successfully shunning the paper, I finally gave in to my desire to persevere, conquer life's obstacles, climb metaphorical mountains, all that stuff... and I submitted another article in to show him I wasn't giving up.
I wrote about something I thought would really touch readers and be a nice, feel-good piece for commuters on their way home. If you have the time, have a read of the article HERE.

I only spent one night on it, but I was really excited about my pilgrimage of determination and endurance and like an idiot, I really thought the editor would be impressed with my positive, never-give-up attitude.

Below is the email "correspondence" that followed from submitting the article. I put correspondence in sarcastic quotation marks because as you will see it was more of a monologue than a dialogue.

Now, I don't normally get "angry". I get upset every now and then, but can usually laugh things off quite easily.

But being shrugged of like this, feeling more neglected than the '9' button on a microwave really fired me up. It made me want to collect all the newspapers at 3pm and set them on fire whilst sandpapering the eyeballs of innocent bystanders. It made me want to breed wasps and scorpions and release them into high traffic locations. I wanted to release an overwhelming blast of volcanic fury which only godzilla could fathom.

.... Not that I would ever do any of that. That's what separates the psychos from the functioning psychos.

Fair enough if he didn't like it, but at least have the decency to let me know where I could improve. The coldness of his response was a clear decider for me to look for writing opportunities elsewhere. Not to mention the typo in his short response was a clear indication of his editing capacity (yes, yes... I know I'm a sore loser who is now hitting below the belt).

What do you think? Am I taking things too personally? Should I keep trying down this avenue?

Leave a comment and let me know your thoughts.

And don't forget to like my Facebook page HERE if you're feeling kind.

'Til next week, friend.

Rejected Article #3 - Underrated Pleasures in Life

It's all too often I turn these pages only to be disheartened by complaint after complaint. Whether it's about the various ways in which the public transport system has failed, or about how Gangnam Style is lyrically flawed; we as people are much too driven by our discontentment that we forget to see the beauty in everyday. The daily commute to work is a prime example of how we are constantly burdened by or avoiding contact with other humans. We put our bags on seats as dividing walls, we wear our earphones as do not disturb signs to the people around us. Our first reaction to a stranger asking for help is to ignore them because we are constantly suspicious. We're losing touch with one another. We're becoming less like humans and more like robots programmed to stare at a screen and seek self-satisfaction before anything else. We're so easy to take, but hesitant to give back.

I used to be okay with being like this too, until one day... it hit me - like being suddenly defibrillated I was struck and brought back to reality. Isn't it funny how the most profound of thoughts can come from the most unexpected of places?

I was having what felt like the worst day ever. My phone had broken, leaving me unable to reach someone to pick me up and when I finally got home I discovered there was a problem with the water system in our neighbourhood causing our home to lose both hot water and all water pressure in our showers for 12 hours. Like an Amish peasant, I found myself collecting cold water from the sink into a bucket and mixing it with boiling water from the kettle. After spending approximately 40 years preparing this makeshift warm shower and "bathing" in what seemed like teaspoons of water barely enough to submerge a small goldfish, I had to ask myself "Is this really my life right now?".

I later drove to McDonald's and ordered myself a meal in hopes to drown my sorrows in discouraged amounts of cholesterol. What I was expecting was a guilty-pleasure snack, but what I found was a sign that maybe there was still hope for my night. I'm one of those pedantic people who makes sure everything is as it should be, so my first instinct when I ordered my 6-pack of nuggets was to count them. 1,2,3,4,5,6.....7? Seven. Seven! They gave me 7 nuggets. I was strangely ecstatic. Most people would tell me this was an accident, a human error which was merely coincidence. I say it was a sign. A message to remind me that you win some, and you lose some. The happiness in my day was restored by the simplicity of a 6-pack of McNuggets. 

So a pay-rise may be overdue, you might be struggling to find time for yourself and you might have to deal with your personal space being invaded once in a while just so someone else can sit down on the train too. But, so what? What about those times you are momentarily happy only to forget it the next minute? When you feel like Cathy Freeman after running to make your train just in time, or when you enter a public toilet cubicle and there ISN'T urine on the seat? Life can still be beautiful if we let it. 

I don't mean to go all Mother Teresa on you, but we really should try to let our trivial problems solve themselves, and learn to appreciate the little things in life, because one day we may look back and realise... they were the big things.

Am I Normal?

I wrote this article for a blog/magazine called Warhol's Children. Just submitted it today, so still waiting to hear feedback, but I figure it could double up as my blog for this week as well - because I'm efficient like that.

So here it is! My take on how to act normal. Enjoy!

After 22 years of life, I have come to realise that maybe... I am not normal.

Normalcy is a funny thing, don't you think? Everyone has their own quirks, their own way of doing things yet we try to suppress these when faced with a situation where we want to impress people or seem competent. It's like there's an unspoken expectation for everyone to behave a certain way or be interested in certain things for the rest of society to approve. Isn't it bizarre that I will feel shame waiting for 10 cents change at a store, make the effort to fake laugh at an acquaintance's lame joke or spend 15 minutes desperately searching for an isolated toilet cubicle in the office because I'm so morbidly embarrassed to do something that in fact everyone does.

After much observation and attempts at replicating normal behaviour at my workplace and other such environments where acting normal is the best and safest option, I've taken the liberty of putting together a list of sure signs to indicate normalcy. This checklist is a great way to ensure that you're blending into the rest of society just fine.

I hate small talk. The thought of wasting my breath on something that I don't really care about sickens me, but the fact of the matter is, normal people love small talk. Especially about the weather. If your favourite topic to start the day with a friend or work colleague is the weather, that's a clear symptom of chronic normalcy. Whether it's about how atrocious the rain is, or how glorious it is to have the sun back, talking about the weather is a normal person's favourite conversation starter. It's neutral and something that everyone can relate to. You can even mix it up with some blatant and ironic sarcasm to really spice things up. "Can you believe the amazing weather we have today?" during a torrential rain storm - normal people eat that shit up!

You know you're normal when your idea of a deeply cultural experience is eating a terriyaki chicken sushi roll. Your choice in food is a definite decider of your normalcy that you will be mercilessly judged on by those around you. Some acceptable normal foods are ham-sandwiches, garden salads, apples and water. The eccentric dishes your mother puts together with obscure foreign ingredients are something you may want to save for when you're home alone if you want to appear a common and normal member of society. 

If you want to be normal, you also need to give the impression that your home is of Harvey Norman catalogue standards. If your home is furnished and decorated similarly to a display home you know you're on the right track. When guests come over, you may want to leave 1 item out of place for when they get there (e.g a book on the couch or a spoon on a table) and apologise profusely for the mess that they've had to witness and how embarrassed you are at how much you've let yourself go. This act of faux humiliation is typically seen from normal people.

Another good indication of your levels of normalcy can be seen through your likes and interests. When you're normal, high on your list of things that entertain you are pictures of cute animals wearing funny hats as well as playing hours upon hours of online games such as Farmville and Bejeweled. These are intense activities which require high levels of concentration and are a display of the cognitive skills you've developed over your lifetime. These games teach you about hand-eye coordination, accuracy, how to harvest virtual crops and other such fundamental life skills. If you want to be really normal, make sure you post your high scores on your Facebook page to make all your friends aware of your accomplishments. These posts can be accompanied with status updates about how it looks like a great day for a walk, or an Instagram photo of a sunset.

So maybe none of the above criteria applies to me. Maybe I am the only person at my work who uses the toilet for it's intended purpose. Maybe I'm not normal after all, but for some reason... I think I'm okay with that.

Thanks for reading, friend.
Leave a comment below and/or Click here to like my Facebook page.

'Til next Sunday!

The bright-side of not having a phone

I'm so annoyed with myself for constantly breaking my promise to write a new entry every Sunday. 

I would have posted last Sunday, but it was a long-weekend, the AFL and NRL grand finals were on, and I had things to do, or as John Lennon put it, "life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans".

Since the last post, it's pretty much been business as usual, with the exception of my phone constantly dying on me to the point where I practically don't have even a phone. I actually just have a block of metal that sits uselessly in my bag, mocking me. I really don't understand why '3' lock me into a 24 month plan when they can't even provide me with a handset that lasts for that time. I honestly don't think I've ever had a phone that hasn't broken down on me before my plan ends. It's completely un-Australian if you ask me.

Though, despite the obvious inconveniences and multiple spanners in the works of organising my life, having a faulty phone does have it's benefits believe it or not. For one, I am now a master of both locating and functioning payphones all around Sydney.... You know payphones, right? Those things we stopped noticing on the street back in 2001? 

FOREVER ALONE.

Well, they still exist, and have helped me find my way home on numerous occassions. Though, thinking back on the state of some of the phones I've had to use, I should probably get tested for AIDS..... again.

(LONG STORY! I will elaborate in a later post if I get enough requests).

Having no phone is like a cross between a permanent scavenger hunt and jumping into a DeLorean and going back in time. I have no idea how generations before could survive or flourish without mobile technology. It's only been a few weeks and I already feel completely disconnected.

Even something as simple as meeting with a friend for dinner after work becomes mission impossible and requires a detailed and intricate instruction manual:

"Hey, I'll meet you at Town Hall station at the ticket booths closest to the Woolworths on the QVB side at 6:50. My train will get there at 6:48. If you're not there, I'll wait for you for 20 minutes. If I still can't find you by 7:08, I'll do one last check around the area and go home if I can't find you. If you get there before me, and I'm not there by 7, you can assume that my train is delayed or I have been kidnapped".

The truth is, I could just go buy a cheap phone to last me until my cap renews (January), but I am way too stubborn and Asian about spending money outside of my allocated monthly budget that I'm choosing to live like a pre-technological Amish peasant for now.

In other exciting news, I'm applying for my busking permit next week along with my best friend, so we can busk on the streets of Sydney (mainly the tunnel at Central station) for fun and maybe if we're lucky even earn some extra tax-free dollars. So I'll be voluntarily roughin' it with the old Chinese man playing the erhu and the Indigenous lady selling home-made Aboriginal coasters and pasta-jewelry. I'm actually really excited about this new adventure and I'll be sure to post about all my busking updates and adventures on Facebook.

Speaking of, I've actually created a silly Facebook page for my blog. It would be really great if you're someone who takes the time to read these every so often if you could show some support through liking the page. I promise I won't be annoying. I'll just be updating on new posts and maybe some funny statuses once or twice a week if I can manage to come up with something.

Facebook fan page: http://www.facebook.com/zerahahablog

I don't want to make it awkward and invite people individually to join the page, so please, if you can spare the time, just join. It would really mean a lot to me and help with gaining audiences.

And lastly, my default Arj Barker update....

This makes me excited.... in the panties.

Note to self: Include tickets to multiple Arj Barker shows in 2013's monthly budgets.

Not sure if another Islamic protest, or if Bulldogs are through to the grand final.

Last night I attended my first live NRL game (semi finals between South Sydney Rabbitohs and Canterbury Bankstown Bulldogs).

Rocking the nosebleed section.

As those of you who know me are aware, I'm quite paranoid about worst case scenarios coming to be, so I planned to get there quite ahead of time to have a bite to eat, settle into my seat, have a bathroom break and so on and so forth.

As a result of getting to the stadium early, I managed to make it in time for what I assume is normal for   most sports matches; there was pre-game entertainment in the form of a relay race by teens who I gathered were aspiring NRL players or fans.

After the race was done and the winners were announced, there was a short interview with the testosterone-fueled winning team. Not many words were exchanged in the interview, but instead a simple gesture which apparently said everything they wanted to communicate.

A strong pelvic thrust motion similar to the below.

Now, imagine his hands are gesturing to his crotch area with each forward thrust...

As I watched this 15/16 year old boy eye me through the jumbo screen whilst he suggestively drew my eyes to his nether regions, I had instant flashbacks of my childhood.

I used to live in a really horrific part of Doonside (the real ghetto of Sydney).

What my family didn't realise when we moved into that house is that the street it was on was half occupied by housing commissions. We had the absolute pleasure of witnessing a number of pleasant scenes around the neighbourhood, including Aboriginal kids trespassing on our property and riding their bicycles in our front yard (yes, IN our front yard, ON the flower beds).

I remember looking out the window, semi-fearing for my life and watching one of them look at me and, as if to check-mate me in life, he thrust his pelvis at me similar to how I witnessed last night.

Just as I did back then, last night I asked myself two questions:

A) How did this boy's mother get it so wrong?
B) What does this aggressive pelvic thrusting actually mean!?

I'm aware that kids these days with their hip-hop, and their backwards caps, and their discmans have all sorts of cool lingo and slang, but what does this pelvic thrusting actually mean? Is it a symbolic reference to his masculinity? Is that why those kids rode their bikes over our garden on a regular basis? Someone please explain this to me, because I seem to have missed this class during my time studying at the School of Hard Knocks and the University of Life.

Wanting to beat the traffic home, we left a few minutes early not knowing who had won the game. Driving home amidst the looting on the street by most of Sydney's Middle Eastern population left me confused as to whether I had found myself in the middle of another Islamic protest, or if the Bulldogs had in fact made it through to the grand final...

I was relieved to discover it was the latter.

In other exciting news, I started my new job on Friday. Despite still being in the same building, it felt really fresh and I'm really looking forward to the opportunities and experiences that lie ahead. I loved where I used to work; the culture, the atmosphere. But it was really conflicting for me being someone who strives to excel at everything and not being able to in my role.
I love the media industry, and the 2 years I spent in it were unforgettable, but I just wasn't made for it. But I will be forever grateful to anyone and everyone who helped or supported me along the way.

So it's goodbye to the parties and the freebies, but hello to the beginning of something I can really see myself pursuing for a long time.

And finally, because I don't think it has nearly enough views as I anticipated when posting it, here is a video of me singing a song and stuff...

I'll see you back here next Sunday for next week's post :)

The awkward moment when you're the only Asian within a 100km radius

One of the many qualities in people I love is when they have talents and interests completely different to mine. It gives me an opportunity to explore places and things outside of my little Blacktown comfort zone/bubble.
For those of you who follow this blog weekly, you'd know that "X", a guy I'm seeing who is working in Western Australia at the moment came back last week to visit.
He and I are very different. He loves the outdoors and getting amongst nature, whilst I am a 5' Asian who's afraid of butterflies. My idea of an extreme outdoor adventure is getting the mail from the mailbox in Winter without a jacket on.

One of these experiences I was able to live out was riding on the back of his motorcycle to a small country town called Picton. If you haven't heard of Picton, I don't blame you. It is literally one street of civilisation (if you could call it that) in the middle of the bush. I feel as though it is a place not many of us get a chance to escape to due to our busy lifestyles, so let me save you time and petrol and give you my analysis of 'The Real Picton'.

The first thing to note about Picton is the scenic journey to the town. "X" took me there because he "enjoyed the ride" (meaning, the roads that lead to Picton are winding and the speed limit is over 100km/hr) for the majority of the trip.

I'll let the below Google map illustrate the wondrous sights on the way from point B (my house) to point C (Picton) from the perspective of a pillion passenger.

So much to see and do....

The Main street of Picton has a wide variety of stores and facilities to keep you entertained for hours on end. Below is a guided scenic tour of the town.

As you can see, the local Picton surf shop has all the latest surf gear and merchandise. I would say this is a reflection of Picton's convenient proximity to the beach.

Should your vehicle happen to break down in Picton, FEAR NOT! Picton Tyre and Mechanical is the answer to any of your automobile crises.

Auto Parts Picton stores the latest and greatest in auto parts. Lucky for you, Picton is conveniently located close by to all major cities in Sydney, only 2 hours and 25 minutes from the Sydney CBD.

The local tattoo parlour has showcased it's finest artwork in the window to entice potential customers. I don't know about you, but I would say it is well worth the trip for this calibre of art.

Need a cheeky root canal? Picton Dental can sort you out.

Picton is also renowned for it's state of the art emergency services, with their facilities and resources updated regularly with the latest in technology.

Picton Police Station (last modified 1928)

Picton Fire Station (last modified 1971)

And just when you think you've seen it all, Picton brings you the famous Picton Mall, complete with Coles, Asian nail salon and an under construction Target.

Just when I thought my day couldn't get any more rivetting, I assumed we were heading back home after a fun-filled adventure in such a happening town..... NEK MINNIT, "X" surprises me with a trip to Warragamba Dam (he does engineering, he's into that stuff) - COULD MY DAY GET ANY MORE EXCITING!?!?!

All in all, I was completely out of my element travelling to Picton and Warragamba, but as mentioned, I like experiencing places and things outside of what I'm used to and for that reason, I'm glad I went.

In other news, I'm writing an article for a magazine called 'Warhol's Children'. The article will be about life's underrated simple pleasures, and I would love any suggestions. So far I've got:

• Getting to the platform right in time for the train. 
• Not being colour blind. 
• Watching the trailers before a movie. 
• Air freshener availability when you have to go at your friend's house. 
• When the person you don't like at work is away. 
• Having just enough change in your wallet so you don't have to break a note. 
• When McDonald's accidentally give you 7 nuggets, instead of 6.
• When your favourite song just finishes playing on the radio, and you change the station and it starts to play again on the other station.  
• When you walk into a public toilet and there ISN'T urine on the seat.
• When you find a chip shaped like a love heart
• When your Asian parents let you switch on the air con during a heatwave.... for 10 minutes.

Let me know if you have anything to add?


And with any luck, I'll see you back here next Sunday.

Does it offend you, yeah?

I mentioned in last week's post that I wanted to put a greater weight of focus on being soft-hearted and considering other people on my goals for this year... So much for that, as it turns out I blew that one pretty quickly.
Apparently making accurate comparisons are now also on the list of things that offend people. Apologies, I didn't get the memo.

This week I posted the below photo/status on Facebook:

Let's take a closer look, shall we?

Before I break down why this perplexed me so, please see below what I find when I type in "asylum seekers" into Google images.

Now, I'm no expert, but I'd say that the photo I posted has a lot in common with these ones I found on Google. The main thing being that it is an overcrowded, confined space full of people who would like to get out as soon as possible and be elsewhere.

Had I said "asylum seekers have got it easy compared to me on this train right now" or "LOLZ ASYLUM SEEKERS!!1!!1!", I could maybe understand, but I think the comparison I made had merit behind it, and I don't understand how I managed to fail this personal goal so quickly after setting it.

Agree? Disagree?

Someone! Please! Show me the error of my ways! How was that NOT funny?

In other news, I've taken a few days off work because "X" is back for the week and we've been cruising on his motorbike, eating ribs, consuming liquid nitrogen ice-cream and other such activities.

I didn't choose the thug life. The thug life chose me.

I decided to take advantage of my days off and make an appointment to meet with someone who I've been thinking about a lot lately. Someone who literally is the reason I say high school were my golden years; My year 11-12 music teacher.

When someone doesn't have Facebook, and you work full-time, and you don't have their phone number, you'd be surprised at how difficult it is to get in touch with them.
In a random strike of luck, I managed to meet someone who is currently his student and gave her a note to give to him with my email address on it. These are the proceedings:

So, finally after all this time I will be reuniting with the man who single-handedly transformed the way I perceive the study of music as well as a few other staff members who managed to climb my favourite ladder. I'm sure you'll be hearing about how it all goes.

Who is your favourite teacher, and why?

Leave a comment below or share on Facebook.

Who's your daddy? A Father's Day Post

Isn't it funny how much one day can make a difference? It's been 2 weeks since my last blog post because last weekend the internet was down at my house, hence I spent most of my time pondering life's purpose and questioning my identity #firstworldproblems style instead of being a productive member of society like everyone else.

In these last 2 weeks, I've managed to end my search for a new job - one which I feel is more true to the kind of thing I can see myself doing long-term (something I guess I couldn't really write about prior to it becoming official). I received a couple of job offers on the same day which was such a blessing for me as I've been searching for a role that I am more suited to for a little while now. It was strange interviewing for jobs when I already had one. It's the first time I've looked for a job with the intention of finding something that I am suited for and that suits me too, rather than just a job I am capable of doing to get me by for the time being.

So to sum it up, I'm moving into a market research role mid-September, in a different company but within the same umbrella as my current company. This means I get to stay in the building I currently work at, which is even more of an added bonus because daily free breakfast and a 20-30 second walk to the train station is hard to come by in this cut-throat world.

I've made it known that this year is all about progression for me, and pursuing the things I want to pursue from an achievment stand-point. But these past 2 weeks it's dawned on me that I'm not a very soft-hearted person. To be honest, I don't know if I ever have been. When people come to me with their problems, I'm the one to whack them on the back and say "she'll be right", "man-up, son!" or more commonly "why don't you go buy a purse to match that skirt you're wearing, Nancy?" - being a stronghold or pillar for someone emotionally has never been my strength as a friend, I guess because I'm so emotionally fragile I'm usually the one in need of this.

This fortnight I managed to make and lose a best friend, and upset a few other people along the way with words I don't realise at the time cut deep. I don't know whether it's because I've been hurt and have built up an emotional resilience or if its a subconscious result of the way I was brought up, but I'm cold and brutal, and that's something else I would really like to improve in myself for the remainder of this year. To become more soft-hearted.

Soft-hearted like my dad. (seamless segue, right?)

Arnold Gallardo - aka coolest Asian you will ever meet. The below screenshot sums him up perfectly.

In light of Father's Day today, I thought I would list a few reasons why my dad is the best dad.

• Every morning, my dad drives my mum to the train station so she can get the early train to work. My dad then comes back home and picks me up to drive me to the station so I can have a 15 minute sleep in.
• My dad still packs my lunch for me.
• My dad still pays for my phone bill. Though, not for much longer.. (see next dot point).
• My dad writes me emails to tell me how much my phone bill for that month cost. I deflect these emails with replies such as "Sorry, who is this?" and "ERROR. MAIL COULD NOT BE DELIVERED".
• My dad refers to anything and everything on the internet as being "downloaded". It's his hip 21st century street-speak. (e.g. "Can you download these photos to Facebook?", "All you need to do is download it on Google" and "Can you download the weather for today?"

So in a nutshell, he's pretty much amazing.

And finally.... my big announcement!

HTTP://ZERAHAHA.COM

HTTP://ZERAHAHA.COM.AU

&

HTTP://ZERAHGALLARDO.COM  - (still a lot of work to be done/added).

are now live and active! Peruse as you wish!

Do you have any similar father stories? Why is your dad the best?

Leave a comment or share on Facebook if you're feeling kind, otherwise, you can find a new entry on here next Sunday as usual!

Reasons I Love ChatRoulette

One of my good friends has recently decided to leave the nest that is her parents house and venture into the independent lifestyle of living alone. A group sleepover was called for, and on the agenda for the night amongst baking cookies, drinking games and exercising poor personal hygiene was the inaugural... Chatroulette.

Everyone should know what Chatroulette is, so I won't bother going into too much detail explaining, but basically it's kind of like speed-dating over live video chat with anyone from anywhere who is on at the same time as you. You are matched with someone, and if anyone on either side doesn't feel like talking to who they are matched with they can press 'F2' which skips that partner and generates a new match. This happens until you find someone you are happy to speak to who is also willing to speak with you.

Chat roulette, contrary to popular belief is so much more than just an online erection gallery.

Sorry, I had to add the image for a thumbnail worthy of cheap clicks. 

Chatroulette on Friday night taught me so many life lessons about the world in which we live, and I would really like to share some of those learnings with you.

We played a game with people we were chatting to, asking them to take their laptop/webcam to the window to show us what was outside. It was incredible seeing where some of these people were. A few memorable ones from the list were a man's balcony overlooking Milan, a French man's suburban backyard, a group of Americans in the military based in South Korea, a British man smoking pot in a legitimate conservatory, a couple of guys out on a fishing boat, and a 16 year old kid from Ohio's backyard.

Of course with any public online (or real life) forum will come young girls seeking affirmation and validation of their worth through strange men, and men both young and old willing to take advantage of these girls' insecurity within themselves, but... believe it or not, once you filter through all the middle-aged and overweight Turkish men, and skim past the 14 year old boys rubbing on their erections through their shorts, there are some really cool and decent people out there.

Though, with every pro comes a con, and on Friday night my soul bled and my heart wept for the future of society when I saw kids (actual children between the ages of 9-14) on Chatroulette.
Judging from the pretty morbid things I saw that night, I could only imagine what these kids were being exposed to and how it would effect their lives - What killed me even more was when we came across a couple of girls no older than 12 mimicking giving blowjobs to their chat partners. I couldn't take it. I wanted so much to protect them from the countless  men out there with questionable intentions, but I was conflicted by seeing them act this way and had to F2 (skip) them because I didn't want to believe what I just saw, and because being charged for pedophilia is not high on my life's to-do list.
Seeing that not only physically hurt my heart, it only reinstated my decision not to bring anyone into this broken world.

This is actually me.

After us girls had our fun with speaking with the charming men out there whose false hopes of us taking our tops off or kissing each other may have lingered for a lot longer than we should have allowed, we agreed on searching for some decent girls for the boys.

Gotta keep trollin', trollin', trollin'.

The thing with chatroulette is, the image/video displayed could be anybody. We learnt the hard way that the majority of hot chicks on there are actually just pre-made videos on a loop with someone else typing as though they are the person on the video. There was a point where we thought we were chatting to a girl who was the definition of DTF. She was laying on her bed asking us what we wanted to see, with a very suggestive cleavage hanging out of her bra, and only one of us noticed her movements were repeating themselves. Quickly realising we were being trolled by a true wizard, we F2'd our way out of there!
My advice on chatroulette is to be sceptical of anyone who doesn't have a mic.

So in summary, if I had to break it down, Chatroulette is 70% middle-aged and sexually frustrated Turkish men, 20% teens who are looking for sexual release/validation, 8% videos of hot chicks on a loop, being monitored by a middle-aged Turkish man, and 2% normal fun people looking to have stimulating conversation with fellow internet users from around the globe.

Side note:
This week I purchased some domains for my blog and online portfolio, so this is soon to be HTTP://ZERAHAHA.COM! Just awaiting the payment to go through, but watch this space for progress. I'll also be posting all my published work at HTTP://ZERAHGALLARDO.COM, so once payment goes through for that, you are free to peruse even more of my writings.

I post a blog every Sunday, so I will hopefully see you back here next week.

Leave a comment below or share on Facebook if you're feeling kind :)

Smells Like Teen Spirituality

To be honest, I've been so tied down this week I haven't had a chance to live life and observe things to make any comedic commentary on.

So, to save you from having to read about compiling spreadsheets or sleep deprivation (story of my life this past week), I want to write about something that's been on my mind for some time now. 

I really wanted to save this topic for a later date as it is a little bit controversial and I would like to have written about it when my blog had gained a bit more of an audience so I could potentially spark some conversation, but for the sake of not having any other material, this will have to do. Funny stuff to come in future posts, I promise! Just let my sentimental conscience have a run for its money this week....

I've been thinking about death a lot recently... Not in a creepy, dark way, but more of a "what if that happened to me?" kind of way. I don't know if turning 22 has signified the beginning of the end for me, but I'm starting to realise that death is a real possibility, and of course with death comes the unknown of life afterwards.

Another one of my mother's famous conditions of living under her roof is that I have to go to church with my family quite regularly. I think this is her attempt at keeping me in line, hoping that I'll someday find the light. The thing is, I think I'm a lot closer to finding it than she might think, I just hate the aspect of being forced into finding it. I refuse to be spoon-fed something that has been ingrained within me since birth, and for the same reason I hate it when my teammates cheat in pub-trivia, I like figuring things out for myself.
Though, as much as I hate being forced into going to church, in the end I never regret going.

I've grown up with Christians. And one thing you should know, that I really want to be clear right now is that Christians are no different to anyone else. In theory, yes, they should be kind-hearted and selfless in a way that reflects the basis of their beliefs - however, this isn't always the case. Christians are human, and like every other human, they will fail to be perfect. I hate exclusivity, and Christians, or at least a lot of the ones I know are the best at being exclusive. I went to a Christian lunch group in high school, and the feedback I heard from people who came to visit told me that the group was doing more harm than good, making them feel like outsiders or unwelcome. In trying to be a hero, I've made it a mantra to show people that it's not supposed to be like that. I wanted to show people that Christians were just people too, but I guess I've compromised myself along the way and done just as much damage as the hypocritical Christian groups in confusing people about what a Christian is. Now I'm sort of stuck trying to find how I can apply what I believe in to the life I live now.

The thing you should know is that no matter how hypocritical or poorly Christians reflect Christian values and morals (I am a great example of this), it doesn't change the entity or goodness of God. If you're searching for God in Christians, don't do it. You won't find what you're looking for and will only be gravely misled.

I don't mean for this to be a sermon, but merely a insight into my thoughts on the subject. I'm still trying to figure it all out, but the fact that I'm scared of death tells me that I have a long way to go in this discovery.

The thing is, I'm at a sort of agnostic-theist point where I believe in the existence of God, but have found little application for that belief. Believing that something exists isn't anywhere near enough. In turn, the lifestyle I live is almost atheist as the belief I have in God rarely makes it's way into my day-to-day, and I have not found myself actively searching for answers.... well, that is until now.

I've begun to question the point of some of my life goals, like saving money and owning property, because one day it won't matter anymore. One day you and I will be dead, and there is every possibility that we will be summoned to a spiritual realm of heaven or hell, and I'll be honest with you... when I think about that,when I really think about it, it scares me.
But the thing is, I don't want to be scared into believing something. I don't want to claim to believe something merely as a safety net or preference to the other option. If I believe it, I want the belief to be real, and that's the part I'm struggling with - whether my belief is due to true belief, or the conditioning of my upbringing. I sometimes question whether or not I would have the same beliefs if I were brought up in a different way, by different people. I think the existence of God makes sense, it's just the application or exercise of that belief that I find hard to comply with.

There really was no point in that ramble, I am so far from finding answers I can't exactly end this with an epiphany or moral of the story. But know that when I do find something, you'll be hearing about it...

In other news, I thought you'd be interested in seeing some analytics from my blog.

The past month, my top visitors have been from all those countries on the left.

The past week my top visitors have been from the above audiences.

This all might seem cool, but the data also tells me that a lot of page views I'm getting are from people who have typed in "lesbian threesome" into Google and landed HERE. (*facepalm*)

..... Not quite the overwhelming success/response I've been anticipating but it's still fairly early days.

If you have any thoughts on the above feel free to leave me a comment below, and like I said... funny stuff to make a re-appearance in the coming weeks.

Rejected Article # 1 - Facebook Event RSVP etiquette

Today I find myself in the midst of 21st season, otherwise known as the season when every weekend consists of congregating at a said venue dancing to the same songs, listening to the same drunken speeches and coming up with a last minute costume to whatever ridiculous theme the host has conned you into participating in.

Having attended countless of these parties over the past year, as well as having just hosted my own 21st this month, there is one other remaining constant I have observed. 

Needless to say, the first and fundamental step to hosting any type of get together such as a 21st is the infamous Facebook event. For the two people reading this who do not partake in the social network site, a Facebook event is essentially a resource users can use to create and invite their friends to upcoming occassions. The guests who are invited are then able to RSVP as 'Attending', 'Maybe Attending' or 'Not Attending'. As straight forward as these options may seem, there is actually a hidden meaning behind how to interpret them. 

A lot of preparation goes into organising events such as birthday parties, so I thought I would do my part for society by outlining basic Facebook event RSVP etiquette.

Drawing upon what I've seen this year, I'll put forward what each RSVP option really means, and attempt to translate how they should be interpreted so that you can adequately prepare for your upcoming soiree.

I'm Attending: 

Roughly 30% of people who click 'I'm Attending' won't actually attend your event. Do not be fooled! It is a crazy coinsidence that your birthday also happens to fall on the same day a freak case of the Ebola Virus spreads throughout your network of friends because one-third of those 100 people "Attending" are going to text you an hour before your party starts and tell you they aren't feeling well. 

I must stress that 'I'm Attending' numbers are in no way an accurate reflection of the raging party you're anticipating to have. People who click ‘Attending’ either want to appear really popular, want to be polite, or by the off chance are actually a decent friend and wouldn't miss your birthday for the world. But I wouldn't count on it.

Maybe Attending:

People who click on 'Maybe Attending' can be summed up as people waiting for a better offer. They might consider making an appearance if nothing better comes up in the meantime, but the majority of people who click 'Maybe Attending' have no actual intention of attending your party, and the only gift you'll be receiving from them is the gift of false hope.

Not Attending:

This is probably the most straight forward option to interpret. People who click on 'Not Attending' are actually saying "Did you seriously invite me? I do not like you, and am not afraid to show it to all your friends".

With all these mixed messages and meanings in Facebook event RSVP-ing, you may be thinking that creating a Facebook event page may be a redundant form of invitation, however with these handy tips, you'll be able to differentiate your Great Aunt's sensible tea party from something of Corey Worthington proportions.