So my original reason for starting this blog was to have a space to keep track of all the awe-inspiring (and particularly the abhorrently mundane) conversations that I overhear at the cafe I work at. The number of times I've said "Now that's a story for the blog" is ridiculous and it only seems fair to be true to at least part of the b.s. that comes out of my mouth.
Having said that, I'm not great at sticking to my intended plans so this blog will probably just end up being one of those self-indulgent "check out my latest arty photos and listen to this band that I'm currently obsessing over" type of blogs that seem to consume the lives of all the Gen Y's in the inner-city of Melbourne. I've avoided using Facebook and Twitter for so long, but now that I've fallen for the allure of the pop culture spin on autobiographies I'm very afraid. It's a slippery slope. Before you know it I'll be parading around in skinny jeans and baggy t-shirts and my fringe will be so long I won't be able to see anything except for the fine print of the copy of 'The Catcher in the Rye' that I'm holding in front of my nose, hoping that someone will see me with it and we'll strike up a conversation about the claim to fame of adolescent rebellion.
Yes. Mummy and Daddy are proud of all you hipsters. I hope your honours year of Arts at Melbourne Uni is fruitful as punch.
I'm really not always this cynical. Maybe it's got something to do with the fact that I re-watched the entire first season of Daria last week. Pretty stoned for most of it, but the message must have still weaselled its way in there somehow.
Anyway next time I visit I promise to have some good stories of over-heard conversations. If not I'll make-up something and try to make it sound realistic.