Author: Tom Proctor

Our parents generation thought they had it made. Social Security still worked, collage was “cheap” and there were job a-plenty, everything you needed to construct the American Dream ™. Decades of depression and broken families later our generation have figured out that maybe, just maybe, our parents definition of “success” wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. So this time we’re gonna do it different:

1. We don’t have a job for life.

No longer can you walk from the graduation stage into a well paid job that can support a family, put hairs on your chest and defeat the communists. These days you need three years of experience in four different disciplines to be considered at entry level, so don’t be surprised that we move around a bunch just so we can fudge the numbers. It’s a job, not a marriage pact.

2. We’re not watching the news.

I mean, really, who watches the news these days? Most of us haven’t had a functioning TV set since we left home, cable is way too expensive, and a laptop and Netflix doesn’t have commercials, really it’s a no brainer. But don’t assume we’re not informed, we just getting our global updates from other places. You guys heard of this new thing called the internet?

3. We’re in waaaaay more debt.

Like a crippling amount of it. Seriously, we could pay off Greece’s debt before we pay off our own. The one thought that calms us is that one day this whole student debt bubble thing is going to burst and all the bankers will see the error of their ways and decide to become yogis or something. In the meantime, please stop asking us when we’re going to buy a house and settle down, because all we can afford right now is half a bedroom in one of scarier areas of Detroit.

4. We’re not sticking around.

The advantage of not being a loyal member of a dedicated workforce of a benevolent company is that every two years or so we’re forced to pack up and move on. This affords us some options that were never available to you, like exploring long term, trying out new things or straight up leaving the country and not coming back. You might see this as running away from “the real world”, but we know that’s just code for “you’re not as miserable as us yet”.

5. We’re not identified by our careers.

Is there anything more depressing than being defined by the way you make money. Fuck. That. We’d rather be defined by what philosophies we believe in, the places we’ve seen and the people we’ve interacted with. We are a sum of all our parts and what we do to stop the repo men coming over is just a small section of that.

6. We’ve stopped listening to politicians.

The fact that Donald mother-fucking Trump can actually have a shot at the crown just says it all. Politics has become a shit show where rich people that have only ever interacted with other rich people tell poor people that it’s their fault they aren’t rich. It’s out of touch, it’s boring , it’s depressing, and we’d rather we didn’t get any of that filth on our hands, thank you very much.

7. We’re not buying houses or cars.

Not only are we in the aforementioned mountain of debt, we also realise that neither of these “investments” are really worth the blood, sweat and tears they take to buy and maintain. Give me a POS car, a rented apartment and the ability to fuck off over a McMansion and eight years of car payments any day.

You may have heard a whisper this past week that a kid in Texas who got in trouble after he brought a homemade clock to school.

And by a whisper, I mean a melt-down of your Facebook feed, 24-hour news coverage, and everyone from Bill Gates to Richard Dawkins to the motherflipping President taking advantage of the easy PR opportunity.

The young boy – who happened to have “suspiciously” dark skin and family that doesn’t follow a Judeo-Christian belief system – found out first-hand what it’s like to go through the American justice system.

After being cuffed, questioned, and left in the slammer for a while to ponder on his “mistake” of being Muslim and clever, he was eventually released to the inevitable press conference.

Here, he denounced his school, accusing them of racism and confirming the rest of the world’s strongly held belief that the American institutional systems are backwards and prejudice against anyone that isn’t a white Christian.

Only, that’s probably not what happened here.

The American school system, rightly or wrongly, has been a wee bit on the sensitive side for a while now. In 2013, 8-year-old scamp Josh Welch was suspended for biting his pop-tart into the shape of a gun.

In January 2015, 9-year-old Aiden Steward was suspended for bringing in his replica Lord of the Rings ring in and claiming it could turn him invisible.

The same boy was suspended earlier that year for bringing in his Big Book of Knowledge, which was frowned upon because of a chapter on pregnancy and a drawing of a pregnant woman.

And in the fall of 2014 an 11-year-old was suspended for an entire year because he brought a leaf that just looked liked (but absolutely positively wasn’t)  marijuana into school.

In each and every one of these cases, religion and race had nothing to do with the suspension of the students. The sensitivity of the administration and their urge to “act” like they were doing something – anything – that could help them save face is to blame.

With this in mind consider Ahmed’s case: a young boy in Texas brings into school what looks to be a spare Die Hard prop complete with ticking briefcase. School freaks out, because, let’s face it, it looks like a bomb from a movie set.

Police are called and, because not one of them are bomb experts, they have to bring it in for analysis. Boy gets arrested, clock goes viral, the Prez says that the whole thing is shitty.

But when we take away the rabid clamouring in the media – so keen to claim racism – and the political rhetoric from the spin doctors – keen to be seen on the right side of this – we just get another school that over reacted.

Not because a boy was Muslim, but ‘cos he brought into school something that looked suspiciously like a bomb. This being Texas an’ all, he should think himself lucky that he didn’t end up getting shot.

So if you wanna get mad, don’t get mad at institutional racism – there’s plenty of that elsewhere to get all frothy at the mouth about. Get mad at how this nation’s school are being run and how our children are being treated.

Once you go down that rabbit hole, you’ll realise that this is just the tip of the iceberg.

You know something’s not right, but you can’t put your finger on it. Your body, mind, and soul have all teamed up to keep bothering you about your current existence, and you’re constantly rechecking yourself to figure out what that is. There’re a few strong hints to look out for that you may need to shake it up:

1. You constantly get distracted.

You’re like a chipmunk on Adderall; you can’t sit still, you can’t focus, you’re bouncing off the walls and you have no idea what to do with all this displaced energy. It’s difficult to hold a thought in your head when you have a splinter stuck in there with it.

2. The Universe keeps screaming at you.

Maybe it’s always been talking to but now you’ve finally started listening. Coincidences and suggestions pop out of nowhere; friends from across the country recommend you join them, a billboard for cheap flights pops up on your way to work, your landlord raises your rent. There’s a message in all of this, and if it was any clearer it would be flashing in neon with sirens on top.

3. You take more risks…just to see where it goes.

You stay out a little later, you come in late more often. You have a great time learning pottery or break dancing or exploring mysticism. You go on dates you were never interested in, and attempt to flirt with shopkeepers and people in the elevator. You say yes to things because you’re unsure what direction you need to go in, so you try every direction possible. You may be pulling yourself towards any opportunity, but this will eventually pay off.

4. Even “good days” aren’t satisfying.

You just make the train, no one’s drank all the coffee before you get to it, your boss praises you in a meeting, you get to take a longer lunch break, you finish early, and it all counts for fuck all when you know you need to make a change. These little wins just don’t cut it.

5. You’ve got at least 14 ideas of what you wanna do next.

Everything is a half-baked idea with offshoots and variables and fantasies of where it will lead. Nothing is concrete yet, but you feel like you’re on the cusp and dangling over the edge, and one more small push will send you tumbling towards your next destination. You just have no idea where you’ll land, but you’re not sure if that’s such a bad thing.

6. Your imagination gland is working overdrive.

There’s totally a gland for imagination, and yours is pumping out the daydream serum on overdrive. You can’t look at a screen or sit in a meeting without zoning out after 30 seconds and picturing yourself in the mountains, or a beach, or a desert, or teaching, or wrestling, or anywhere that isn’t a stupid meeting or looking at a stupid computer.

7. You stopped taking real life seriously.

Bills? Why would you have to pay bills?! After all, in a matter of weeks you’ll be exploring the Amazon, chasing tornados or enrolling in clown college. All these mundane things in life are a lot harder to focus on when your future is so large.

8. You won’t commit to anything you usually do.

Scheduled poetry reading class, pfft. Monday night softball league, snore. Mother’s birthday, christ she had one last year. Nothing that’s usual or part of the routine is doing it for you, you’re striving for different for new, and all these run of the mill everyday commitments are just reminding you of where you still are.

We all have a place on earth where we feel like we belong, and for you that place is the middle of nowhere, the earth between your toes and the sounds of nature ringing in your ears. Unfortunately, you currently live on the 12th floor of a walk up and pigeons are the only animal life you regularly see, so you deal with this yearn for home in the only way you can: by bringing nature into the city:

1. You go barefoot wherever you can.

All your friends say it’s dangerous, or disgusting, or just plain unsanitary, but gosh darn it you wanna feel the earth underneath your twinkle toes, even if the earth is covered in asphalt, garbage, and sadness.

2. You’ll go out of your way to walk through a park.

No distance is too far and no appointment too important to neglect that quick 15 minutes where you get to bask in living, breathing nature. For those few blissful moments, you can pretend you’re in a rolling meadow, dense woodland, or basically anywhere that isn’t dominated by concrete and steel.

3. Your style screams Mowgli, not Fashion Week.

Flip flops? Check. Scrappy board shorts? Check. Old wifebeater? Check. F*ckes given? Zero. 

4. You listen to rainforest noises on your iPhone.

Your Spotify playlist is occasionally interspliced with the sounds of a far-off land. You might be sunbathing in Times Square, but (in your head) you’re deep in the Amazon, listening to the mating calls of birds, noticing the rustling of predators in the bushes. And by predators, you mean the grown man dressed in an Elmo costume that smells of piss.

5. You GTFO at every god-damned opportunity.

At quitting time on a Friday you’re already halfway out the door, bus ticket in hand and  itching to explore whatever wilderness you have plans to visit this weekend. You’ll come back into work Monday morning covered in dirt, smelling of fire and with a grin plastered over your face. This is how you handle the 9-5.

6. Subway’s scare you, so you only bike or walk.

Maybe scared is too strong a word, but it seems a little unnatural and it makes you feel like a sad little mole person every time you go underground. At least on the old bicycle you get the wind in your hair and a feeling of freedom, and that’s something trains just can’t offer.

7. You’ve turned your room into an indoor ecosystem.

Animals, plants, tapestries, and vegetation all have a place in your boudoir, and if it were up to you you’d replace your bed with a hammock and the carpet with turf, but “apparently” that would violate your lease agreement. Fuckin’ landlords.

8. You’ll climb a tree even if it’s cemented into the sidewalk.

If a tree looks good for climbing, you’re gonna climb it damn it. You say “fuck ‘em” to the weird looks, if there’s a strong call to clamber that you’re not even gonna try to resist.

9. You pretend the sirens and car horns are just some kind of exotic animal

You wanna listen to cicadas and crickets as you snooze, but the ambulances and street fighting is all that’s on offer this evening. No worries, you just go to your happy place where the sirens are birds and the couple having an argument are about to be eaten by a tiger.

We worry too much. In fact, we all worry too much. We worry to fill the time, we worry because we don’t know the future, we worry because we don’t know exactly what others think of us.

We worry because we’re worried that we’re spending too much time worrying. F*ck the worrying, f*ck the second guessing, take a deep breath, and read this list:

1. Your clothes

Unless you’re in the fashion industry, what you choose to cover your sexy naked body shouldn’t be something you dwell on for any longer than it takes to brush your teeth in the morning.

You wear what you wanna wear; if you wanna rock a top hat and boy shorts, go for it, if you think the Guantanamo Bay boiler suit is your vibe today, fuck the haters. Wear what you wanna and bollocks to anyone that tries to stop you.

2. Your bank balance

If you’re several thousands of dollars in debt (student loans don’t count), then you should probably ponder on this a little, but if you can manage to feed yourself, house yourself and clothe yourself, then stop giving yourself a hernia over the numbers in your account.

The numbers don’t care, your soul doesn’t care, you shouldn’t care.

3. Your dating life

You haven’t found Mister or Miss Right yet and you’re worried that you never will in the 60 odd years you have left. There is always going to be plenty of time and plenty of opportunities for “your person” to come along.

So don’t force it, or you’ll end up sticking the square peg in the round hole. And that’s just as painful as it sounds.

4. Your “experience”

Every. Single. Job advertisement says the same thing: 4 years needed in an obscure field, 6 years as an astronaut cowboy, and at least 14 qualifications that include CPR and underwater welding.

Or maybe that’s just the jobs I’ve been looking at. Fudge the numbers, fluff the resume and apply anyway. You can’t win if you don’t play.

5. Your social media

You are not your friend requests, you are not your likes, you are not your tagged photos or your selfies, you are not your snapchats, you are not your yoga poses on a beach, you are not your hot dog legs and you are not your newsfeed.

You are not your online representation. This is a distorted mirror held up to your own existence, and it reflects a warped image of your phyceae. As it does with everyone else.

6. Your “hook-up”

So you swipe right, have a drink, go back to their place. Next week you rinse and repeat. The thoughts cloud and leave you with endless queries; is it going anywhere, do you want this, do they see other people, do you, should you, will you if given the opportunity, what would your mother say, would your sister approve, what is happening?

Relax, it’s just a hook-up. Think about it in the hours between meeting them, orgamsing, and leaving. If it flourishes then it flourishes, if it doesn’t, well, we all need a release valve on sexual frustration.

7. Your future

You should think about your future, you should plan your next move, but to actually worry about it, is only a waste of your time. Life has way too many twists, way too many surprises, way too many opportunities knocking and doors closing and paths unraveling to ever be able to plan or control or regulate.

Nothing is ever set in stone and nothing is ever static. You wouldn’t worry about the direction of the wind or the ripples on a lake, so don’t worry about the flow of your existence.

It’s four in the goddamn morning and that paper you were meant to start three weeks ago is due at noon. As you stare at the flashing line on the ominously blank document, you wonder if anyone in the history of ever has had to face the pressure and panic that you’re facing right now. As the minutes tick down, you realise there’s no greater torture than being easily distracted while having an impending paper to write:

4:00am 

Ok this is when the magic happens, this is when the perfect intro flows flawlessly from brain to fingers, this is when I  tee it up to knock it outta the park. Riiiiiiiiiiiight….now.

4:05am 

How am I on Facebook again?! I don’t even remember clicking on the page. Hw did I get to my ex’s page? What’s happening to me?!

4:20am 

Well, maybe I should stop for a smoke break. It is tradition. No, no, no, show some self control – smoke when you’re done.

4:45am 

I’ve written words and words are good. They aren’t great words, they’re not the right words, nor are they really in the right order, but they are words, and no one can deny me that.

4:58am 

I can browse Instagram for two more minutes, just two more minutes and then I start back up at 5am. It’s healthy to have a quick break.

5:12am 

F*ck, f*ck, f*ck, f*ck! That wasn’t two minutes at all! Shit! Ok, back to work. I’ve got this.

5:25am 

Why did I ever take this class, I was doomed from the beginning, for that matter why am I even at college? Kanye dropped out at college, maybe I should follow Kanye, it worked for Kanye.

5:40am 

OK that was a depressing 15 minutes, it is way too early in the morning for that level of introspection. I can do this. Fingers. Type.

5:56am 

Woh, I feel like I’ve been writing for hours, god I’m on fire, how many words was that? 120?! Fuck, this is never going to happen. OK, back to the cat videos.

6:01am 

Those cats may have actually helped me out, I think I’ve got this from here.

6:26am 

Wait, that’s not what I think it is, is it? It totally is. That’s the goddamn sun, it’s sunrise already! It burns, it burns!

7:05am 

On the bright side the sun coming up really was the kick up the arse I needed. Five pages done. Read it and weep. No, seriously, you will weep.

7:32am 

OK, I get another page done and I’m allowed breakfast, sweet, delicious, momentarily distracting breakfast.

7:34am 

Oh screw it, I’m hungry, balls to the other page.

8:03 am 

That may have been a liiiiitle too much sugar, oh god my hands are shaking, how will I ever get the work done if my hands are shak…oooh people are on Facebook.

8:25am 

Now the heart palpitations have subsided, no more sugar, no more facebook, no more phone, eight pages to go.

8:58am 

I have spent the last 30 minutes writing three sentences in a thousand different ways. What. Am. I. Doing?

9:20am 

Plagiarism is frowned upon, but it’s not actually illegal is it?

9:34am 

Yeah, I don’t even have time to plagiarize at this point. Well brain, neither of us wanted it this way, but it looks like it’s all on you now.

9:58am 

Wow, that was one inspirational speech, a page actually got completed. I’ve got loads of time, this is plane sailing from here on out.

10:12am 

Oh god I have no time at all, why did I think I had all the time?! Brain, what were you thinking!

10:28am 

92 minutes, I have 91 minutes, just 90 minutes. STOP COUNTING DOWN!

10:56am 

I just don’t care anymore, just need words on a page, any words, any words at all, I just need them down.

11:15am 

I’m going to make it, I’m actually going to make it, just two more pages, let’s take this baby home.

11:32am 

Done! I’m done, it’s over. OK time for a quick look over, just to make sure its all ok.

11:43am 

This is either genius and will shake the very foundations of what it means to write an essay or this should be shredded, burnt, and doused in acid. There is no middle ground.

11:55am 

Why now of all times! Internet I command you to work, I command you!

11:58am 

Holy shit it worked! Maybe I’m the lesser god of network problems and I just never knew it. Stop day dreaming! Email, email, email.

11:59am 

Sent, it’s sent, I’m free, it’s done. Hold on, this was due for the 9th, not the 10th?! Oh GOD DAMMIT!

12:03pm 

You’re not an alcoholic if it’s past mid-day and you just f*cked up. Yeah, that’s solid reasoning. Let’s crack open that bottle.

So a friendly glass of wine with a friend you haven’t seen in a while turned into several bottles, a shot or six and waking up in the bathtub with your shoes still on, but real error here was doing this on a work night. You’re now gonna have to drag yourself into the office and pray the day away, but there are a few lies you can tell yourself that might help you through ‘til quitting time:

If I drink enough coffee everything will be just fine.

That magical, black caffeinated elixir that will cure your headache, fatigue and nausea while simultaneously giving you a superhuman boost to take the day in a headlock and suplex that mother-bitch into submission. Well, that’s until you’ve downed your third pint of joe leaving you with the coordination of a crack-head and the bladder of a thirsty racehorse.

I’ll take an early lunch and by the time I come back I’ll be bright and breezy.

The plan is to fill up on some greasy, delicious hangover-busting food, wait for those salt and sugars to work their magic and then come back to the office fresh faced and revitalised. This would have been more effective if you didn’t push yourself into a food coma at Wendy’s and wake up at 3:30 brushing fries and ketchup off your face.

I’ll just get the easy stuff done first and save the hard work until this afternoon.

As you’re still a little bit squiffy in the morning you fill yourself with the false confidence that this all going to go away by lunch time, early afternoon tops. So best start off with the easy stuff and wait until your icky tummy feels better, right? By 2:30 you can only communicate by blinking and you’re pretty sure there’s a localised earthquake occurring just under your chair, maybe just stick to emailing today.

Just five more minutes of staring blankly at the wall then it’s time to buckle down.

You’ll get to that important spreadsheet when it gets to the hour, just a few more minutes and you’ll start work properly, maybe just another flick over facebook and you’ll be ready to work after the coffee machine makes another fresh pot then its goes time, just a quick trip to the bathroom and then it’s on. Oh look, it’s lunchtime already.

I’m actually more creative when I’m feeling a little rough.

The booze that’s still flowing ‘round your brain is giving you a real boost in self-confidence and you’re convinced that this uninhibited, radical free thinking is going to be a major boon to your creative process. This may well be the case, unfortunately, your fingers haven’t got the memo, so every flash of inspiration hits a wall because you’re struggling to keep them under any form of control. Maybe best just to keep it simple.

My co-workers probably just think I have a cold.

That’s right – if blind positivity isn’t cutting it just go straight for self-delusion. Your colleagues have already forgotten that you mentioned you were going for some post-work drinks last night, and early September is a perfectly reasonable time to come down with “the flu”. All those vitamins you’re cramming into your mouth is just cementing the lie…I mean the truth. That’s right the truth that everyone’s buying.

It’s natural to sweat this much.

The fact you haven’t strayed further than 10 feet from the water cooler all day should speak volumes. It’s difficult to stay hydrated when the water insists at streaming through your pores at a rate an Olympic Athlete would be proud of. You reason that the A/C is set to 70 and you have been getting out of your seat a lot, so this level of perspiration is probably normal, you’re definitely not dying…you really hope you’re not dying.

As long as I stare at my screen I’ll look really productive.

Combined with occasionally tapping on the keyboard, making some indistinguishable grunts, and sighing loudly. For added effect, you stand up and walk towards the copier with random bits of paper and remind everyone regularly how busy you are today. Your colleagues totally know you’re doing jack-shit, but everyone needs a free pass once in a while.

It’s the first semester of beginning a senior and you’re going to set right every mistake you’ve made in the past three years, well that is until the symptoms start showing. Here’re some indications that you might be doomed from the get-go:

Stage One: The best of intentions

This is your final year, and by golly is this one going to be different. You have stacks of empty notebooks, you’ve already peeked inside a book or two and you have five different coloured highlighters, that’s right, five. You little go-getter, you’re gonna take senior year by storm and show all them haters.

Stage Two: You catch a case of the Happy Hours

That “stage one” attitude will fly out the window with the rest of your remaining f*cks as soon as you notice your local dive is doing dollar beer night. In fact, why would you ever leave the bar at all? It offers nourishment, community and you can use the free WiFi to get all your essays done. You may have just stumbled on the perfect work environment.

Stage Three: Hangovers hit you where it hurts

Only it’s kind of difficult to do any work when the bartender keeps giving you the “come hither eyes,” you’re up to three pickle backs for the evening, and you’re defending your beer pong champion status on an hourly basis. This culminates in several bleary mornings during which you have to make a couple of quick trips to the bathroom to “make room for lunch” in between taking notes.

Stage Four: Rallying and digging deep

OK, maybe things didn’t get off to a blinder like you intended but there’s still plenty of time to get it back on track. From now on no daytime drinking on a Wednesday, bongs for breakfast are no longer a nutritional way to start the day (even if it is organic), and you’re deleting your FWB off your phone. It’s going to be study-central from here on out, pinky promise.

Stage Five: Relapse

Yeaaaaah, that was such a great plan and you totally would have stuck it out if your bezzie didn’t come to visit, and if you didn’t go out for three lots of birthday drinks this week, and well, the weather was silly good, so really, this is the fault of the universe conspiring against you. You’ll start next week, next week is the real start of your senior year….yeah, next week.

Stage Six: Distraction

Well, you managed to stay at the library for a solid seven hours today, so give yourself a pat on the back. However, if you’re honest with yourself, you may have been at the library for a while  but hours one to four were taken up with facebook stalking, hours five and six were mainly studying Elite Daily and Puckermob, and the last hour was sidetracked when that hottie walked in and sat across from you. But hey, at least you tried!

Stage Seven: Faux acceptance (aka the PJ stage)

Alright, you’re obviously not going to stop the drinking, but you know you need to attend classes. There’s only one thing for it, it’s pajama time. You will turn up to every goddamn lecture and every flippin’ class but you sure as sh*t ain’t gonna dress up like it’s the Ritz. Boxers and a beater from here on out.

Stage Eight: Reluctant acceptance

Ok, fine. Maybe you can’t just turn up and learn what you need through osmosis. This is the goddamn future, shouldn’t we be downloading lessons directly into our brains at this point? Instead, you’re going to have to do things like read, and write things, and listen to stuff. Just how much are you paying per year for this bullshit?!

Stage Nine: Panic

Oh dear Lord the panic. It’s exam time and you are well and truly f*cked. Say goodbye to the sunshine because you’re going to be living in the bowels of the library for foreseeable future as you attempt to cram a semester of knowledge into your weak and underworked brain.

Stage Ten: Sweet Relief

It’s over, thank Jesus, Buddha, Allah and Kanye it’s finally over. You now have several long weeks of overeating while drinking away every scrap of knowledge that somehow stuck in the last few weeks of term. It won’t be like this next semester, though, next semester you’re going to have it sorted from the beginning, next semester is when you get down to business…next semester is where all your dreams come true.

You aren’t dumb, you’ve got your sh*t together,  and f*ck, you even managed to pay 70% of your bills this month. You’re positively successful.

But there are times when you wonder just how often you were dropped on your head as a kid. Moments like these make you legitimately question how you’ve made it this far as a functioning adult:

When you think your fridge is going to magically make food…

You’ve opened the door three times in the past two hours, and yet (to your astonishment and crushing disappointment) food hasn’t yet apparated into the space where food is meant to be. Maybe if you go back in half an hour, a delicious sandwich will appear. Until then you’re going to have to satisfy yourself with another spoonful of aging mayonnaise.

When you take your phone out to check the time…

You’ve been sitting at your computer the entire afternoon, yet your phone is the only authority when it comes to how many hours have passed. You take it out of your pocket, look at the numbers, nod knowingly, stick it back in your pocket, and promptly forget what f*cking time it is. Again. Genius.

When you forget the name of a friend you’ve known for years

You went to kindergarten with this kid, they were the maid of honor at your wedding, they donated a kidney to your mother, you’re basically family – scratch that, they are family – but on more than one occasion you’ve been trying to get their attention and the only name you could summon up was “buddy”.

When you silently mouth words through a window….

They can see you, but due to the quarter inch of glass, there’s just no way they’re going to be able to make out what you’re saying. You’re going to have to whisper your words while moving your mouth like a yawning dinosaur. If all else fails, throw in some arm gestures. That’ll surely clear things up.

When you use your phone to search for your phone…

There is nothing quite as embarrassing as searching under the seat of your car for your lost mobile and deciding to use the torch app to illuminate the area…especially when it takes you fifteen seconds to realise what you’re doing.

When you open an app for the fourth time in six minutes…

You’re waiting on the bus, you’ve got a bit of time to kill, best check instagram, scroll, oh nothing new, close instagram, oh you’ve got a bit of time to kill, best check instagram, scroll, oh nothing new, close instagram, oh you’ve got a bit of time to kill…

When you use your hands to figure out left from right…

When following directions, you occasionally stop at a corner and use your hands to write with an invisible pen in order to mentally confirm which hand is your writing hand so you can pair that with the direction you were told you need to go. There’s gotta be an easier way.

When you shake before use…

You’ve just bought yourself a delicious smoothie. The fruity goodness inside is bright, colourful, flavourful and healthy. You give yourself a hearty mental pat on the back as you tear off the lid, eager to drink the thick liquid within. As you raise it to your lips, you spot the instructions on the side instructing you to shake well before consumption. Without a moment’s hesitation you give that bottle a vigorous jiggle and cause juicy vitamin C to rain down all over your face and body, leaving you looking like unwitting target at a clown orgy. You daft bastard.