When it was new Facebook opened up a never-before-seen (apart from MySpace, Friends Reunited, Bebo and various others), gossip-laden world of forgotten school and university mates, former colleagues and long out-of-touch family members.
You could approach it like Pokemon and add everyone you ever stood next to, you could catch up with folk you lost touch with and you could draw offensive pictures on your mates’ ‘walls’ that questioned their sexuality. All fun and new.
Skip ahead eight years, past numerous shitstorm-causing updates, a company floatation and a tidal wave of corporate accounts… Where’s all the fun gone? Continue reading →
Millions of hack-churned online articles about blogging will tell you never to acknowledge a gap in your writing. But here at TWTN, we (meaning… me) take convention and ignore it like the nutter on the bus.
It’s been a while, eh gang?
Apologies, rant-fans, but sometimes paid work, website redesigns and graduation ceremonies (that’s right- fully certified Master of the Arts now, bitches) get in the way of writing about random subjects for no real reason at all…
But here we are. So forget all this ‘listen to this’ and ‘you should check out this’ music rubbish I’ve been doing, my reader checks in to read badly researched (if researched at all) bemoaning of this tiny island clusterfuck we know as Great Britain, right? Fuck yeah!
You’re in luck this week. I’ve decided I don’t like dinner parties… YAY!!! Continue reading →
As you grow older, certain people in your peer group will begin to reminisce about your school days. If you are really unlucky, you will know someone whose life is so depressing that during these periods of nostalgia, they will utter one of the two most soul-destroying phrases ever to leave a person’s lips: ‘Those were the best days of my life’ or ‘I wish I could go back.’ Things have got to be bad if you long for the days of curfews, pocket money and head-lice.
To celebrate entering my 27th year this week, here’s a reminder of why being ‘grown’ is far superior:
Not giving a shit about what others think
When you’re a teenager, you are so deluded that the opinions of other teenagers ACTUALLY mean something to you. If everyone says a certain brand’s latest ugly, over-priced trainers are the mutt’s nuts, then those were the trainers you were begging your mum to buy you in Footlocker the next week. The sensible, reasonably priced Hi-Tecs she proposed got shot down every time. As you get older, you realise that there are better things to spend your money on than £200 trainers and those Hi-Tecs do look awfully comfy…
Of course there are times that you should still give a shit. For example, if ALL of your mates think your other half is batshit and sucking the life out of you, maybe they have a point.
A willingness to learn
The older you get, the more you realise you don’t actually know all that much. A sense of regret builds inside you, reminding you over and over again that you wasted your schooldays being too concerned with looking cool in front of girls. Books transform from instruments of torture and misery into goldmines of pub quiz answers and other interesting things… Unless you’re one of those morons who considers themselves ‘too old to learn’ and takes pride in their ignorance, of course, in which case, I hope you enjoy treading water.
A sense of perspective
You ever listened to a bunch of teenagers at the back of a bus? I mean really listened, not just been aware of the cacophony behind you? Chances are they’re talking about something REALLY unimportant, usually some bullshit about being ‘disrespected’ by someone while showing that respect is the last thing that they deserve. The way they go about it though, you’d think they were a task force handed the responsibility of solving the problems between Israel and Palestine.
Luckily, as most of us age, we realise that we’re not that special, no matter what our mums tell us. It slowly dawns on us that everyone has their own shit to deal with and our shit is no more special that the next person’s. Of course, this isn’t universal. There will always be a few people you know who remain completely wrapped up in their own dull existence well into their adulthood. You will grow to pity them.
No ridiculous slang
I can’t remember how it worked when I was younger, maybe we got more ‘cool’ points the more slang we could drop in to a single sentence, or maybe it was a symptom of our lack of perspective and we thought that what we were talking about was so controversial that it had to shared in code. Whatever the reason for it, one thing was certain; we sounded like fucking idiots. What a difference employment makes, eh?
Not that there’s anything wrong with slang; the odd word slipped in at the right time can spice up any sentence, but you try being taken serious as a grown up after you tell your middle-aged colleagues the girls at the club you went to the other night were ‘bare (sp?) peng’.
More to come, but until then, have a browse through the archive. Got plenty for ya to read.
Despite what Olay, Loreal and the rest claim in their adverts, there is no cream, treatment or procedure that can halt the inevitable passage of time. You can inject refined disease into your face and have bits ‘tightened’ or sucked out of you but eventually we will all get old and die. How gracefully you go about this process is, of course, a completely different matter.
As you grow older, certain things that were once the punchlines to jokes you told become a reality and all the face-lifts and botox injections in the world can do nothing to stop them.
Things such as:
Ridiculous injuries If you told the teenage me that in years to come a simple cough could result in serious injury and time off work, I would have told you to fuck off. Some of the younger folk reading this are probably thinking exactly that right now. But, alas young bendy people, it is true. As you grow older, a mis-timed sneeze, cough or sudden movement has the potential to cripple you for weeks through torn muscles, slipped discs, trapped nerves and all sorts of other delightful ailments.
You don’t even need to exert yourself in any way; you can also injure yourself sleeping. Yep, the world is a cruel, cruel place.
Gruesome hangovers Once upon a time, it was not unheard of for me to go out on the piss, get up the next day, go to work and then get back on the piss again. This would be repeated most days of each week. The mere thought of doing that now makes me feel a bit sick.
Nowadays, I pretty much have to clear my schedule for the next day if I want to get shit-faced, which I will admit, is rather depressing… But once you hit your mid-twenties, it is viable to expect a two day recovery period for every evening of heavy drinking you partake in.
Want proof? Check your Facebook newsfeed on a Saturday morning. I bet every person that moans about being hungover in their status update is over twenty-five years old. If you don’t have any friends that are over twenty-five, then take heed and make the most of the time you have.
The terms ‘retro’ and ‘old-school’
You want confirmation that you are getting old? Look at the Toy sections of any retail website. Everything on sale that is labelled ‘retro’ is something you have fond memories of from your childhood, right? Almost as horrifying is seeing nightclubs advertising music from the 1990s as ‘Old-Skool’.
Diminishing cultural awareness When you were in your teens, even if you didn’t get involved, you were still aware of any cultural phenomenons that were occurring around you. You knew what was popular on commercial radio and what was actually popular with people who have taste (yeah, I said it). I remember being very much involved in Drum n Bass music/culture around the turn of the century… Fuck knows what’s going on with it now…
The older you get, the more likely it is that entire cultural movements will pass you by. I bet my old man wouldn’t know what Lady Gaga was if she fell on him. Yes, you will pick up on certain things through cultural osmosis (think back to Biology class- I recall something to do with potatoes) but these days, due to the speed that information is shared globally, by the time you have caught up, that shit will be old hat.
Eastenders picking up on ‘jog-on’ a few years ago is a good example. The term became popular among angry young men via the classic work of cinema ‘Football Factory’ (Danny Dyer’s in it, so it must be good…). By the time the ‘Stenders writers became aware of its existence, the only people in Britain still saying it were your parents.
Got a smartphone? Does it confuse you sometimes? I said, DOES IT CONFUSE YOU SOMETIMES, DEAR?