Picture an irregular circle of teenage girls and guys, all in various positions of repose and post-pubescent development, surrounding an empty decanter of cheap Chardonnay.
One leans forward and deftly twirls the container.
The majority of the assembled crowd collectively lean forward as one, whilst others test the capabilities of their peripheral vision to breaking point in an effort to view the results whilst feigning disinterest in this whole childish charade.

After what seems like an eternity, it stops. As does time, hearts (albeit briefly), and an ability to communicate with the opposite sex.

Welcome, my friends, to yours truly's initiation to 'Spin The Bottle'.

So there I am, a 13-year old, slightly (and I use the technical term here), 'spazzy', kid, alternately looking down at the Bottleneck Of Destiny (which now points in my direction), and subsequently across at a girl whose looks I could only describe as 'interesting*'.
My initial thought is to calmly and quietly inhale my own tongue, but this is quickly replaced by the infinitely more cunning 'get up and run away'.

However, before either of these devastatingly brilliant plans can be put into action, I am snapped out of my reverie by an announcement from the ringleader of this alcopop-fuelled excuse for human debasement.

"Ok Sally, you have to kiss Miles"

I glance over, and for some reason she's staring at me with a quizzical look.
A thousand thoughts begin to run through my head (along with the 30 litres of pure testosterone and half a West Coast Cooler).
What is she like to kiss?
what if she sticks her tongue in? (I've never actually done that before)
what if she bites me?
what did she have for lunch?

Realising that the sooner I get this over with, the sooner I can go back to sitting on the carpet looking windswept and interesting, I stand up and walk nonchalantly over to her.
She rises as well, all glasses, teased hair and bangles, and takes a step in my direction.
We are now only inches apart.

I lean in slightly, hoping that this herculean effort on my part will be enough to tip the balance and initiate some sort of physical contact.
She opens her mouth slightly. My eyes close in anticipation..

After a few seconds, my wait is rewarded.

"Okay, there is no fucking way I'm kissing that guy", she says, and sits down, leaving me standing alone in the midst of a giggling circle of my peers..

Ow.


There are (at the time), insignificant events in our lives that affect us more than we will ever realise, and shape us into becoming the person that we are today.
Our thoughts, habits and psyche are all moulded from these insular bubbles of interaction that occur at regular intervals throughout our lives, and from my own understanding, knowing why you are is a step towards realising who you are.




* Interesting like Darryl Somer's jumpers

Last night, as I sat, motionless from the thumbs down, thrashing buttons on a popular video game controller and fantasising that I may have in fact been raised by ninjas, I was blindsided by an odd thought.

Given the ever-increasing amount of people on this planet, and the staggeringly large amount of ideas that just one person can generate, just how many of these viewpoints or theories are truly original?

Surely even those ridiculously obscure thoughts that we have regarding fairy penguins, digging your way to China or where the miniaturisation of technology is ultimately leading us have all been thought of by someone else.
Has the capacity for originality of the human brain finally been reached due to the exponential increase in knowledge-sharing, and this thing we call the 'Interweb'?.

In short, is it actually possible that everything we think has already been thought?.

To add weight to this theory, look at the predictions of such sci-fi luminaries as Heinlein, Dick or Asimov; all exponents of ideas born way before the inception of cyberpunk and society's subsequent predilection for all things Matrix.

In his book, "Do Androids Dream Of Electric Sheep", Dick describes how families are allocated androids (or "andys"), as an incentive to move to off-world colonies in an effort to preserve the human race. The futuristic (and at the time, frighteningly original), idea of every family owning a robot is something that, in today's technological culture, even infants take for granted.
We now live in a world of robot dogs, vacuum cleaners with a disturbingly high level of Artificial Intelligence, and children's toys that can beat us at chess without breaking a virtual sweat.

So where to from here?

Will the Interweb somehow spawn a neatly packaged and PDF'ed version of mass consciousness? Will the overwhelming desire to think decrease until Google replaces an individuals identity?
It appears it may have started already. Hikikomori is becoming a more prevalent issue in Japan than ever before, and a casual search will also show that essentially the same phenomenon is also found in the US, Australia, Canada and Britain.

Oh, and just to add a little icing on the proverbial cake, I Googled this very topic and got over 17,000 responses.

Does this make me an iconoclast? I hope not.

There are times when you feel ten feet tall and bulletproof, and others where the slightest provocation can send you spiralling into an abyss of negativity and illogical conclusions.
Due to extenuating circumstances in my relationship, I have, in the past two months, traversed these two paths perpetually.
To wit, I am now (as they say), sans partner.

Lately, however, (due in part to the anodyne effects of time), these pendulous changes have been replaced with quiet conviction, and the realisation that everything happens for a reason.
At a cursory glance, not everything is always able to be explained logically or rationally, but recognition of this fact seems to be the means that justify the end.
On the upside, I believe I am a quick learner, and hope to make this ruthless and unkind mode of education mercifully short.

It has, however, raised some interesting questions for me.

Is being possessive of someone a sign of insecurity?, or is it merely the wiles of human nature and it's insulating mentality at work? Should you profess to not care, and therefore give a falsely negative impression that you, in fact, don't?

Should having children preclude you from retaining a social identity? When deciding on this permanently life-altering option, should you also consider that you and perhaps a large part of this identity will cease to exist, or is it in fact possible to maintain the two exclusively?

As a final thought, speaking introspectively, my personal and emotional goals have not shifted, but they have (to use the corporate vernacular), horizontally diversified.