I Don't Get Drunk, and I Don't Smoke. Leave Me Alone.

Last night, I went to a friend's 18th birthday party. I had a really good time - not because I got smashed, or because I indulged myself with numerous cigarettes. I enjoyed myself because I got to spend some quality time with mates, and had some of the best conversations that I've ever had. Of course, there was alcohol at the party, and I didn't mind that at all. If you drink responsibly, there is nothing to worry about. There were also a few guys smoking cigarettes at the party. While I frown upon this habit, I realise that people have the right to smoke, and that I should leave them be.

A problem arises when people try and coerce me into drinking alcohol. Now, I am not a teetotaller. That is, I do not abstain from drinking alcohol entirely. When I drink alcohol, it is almost always beer. Spirits don't really appeal to me. My only alcoholic beverage last night was one beer, which has been the trend in most parties I've been to. Most of my friends had some form of alcohol last night, and some of them were either drunk or tipsy. Most people who didn't drink were designated drivers. There was a point in the night where Smirnoff shots were poured. I expressed that I didn't want one, because I do not like the taste. Regardless, my 'friends' (well, one or two of them) still pressured me into drinking a shot. I don't easily succumb to peer pressure, and so I declined their offers. One of my friends, Lucas, is another person who doesn't see the big deal about alcohol. He's even less willing than I am to drink the stuff. Still, he was being pressured into drinking for most of the night. One 'friend', Nicholas, did something completely stupid. Nicholas offered Lucas $50 if he took one shot of Smirnoff, and wait for it...$60 if he threw up. Now, this behaviour is just fucking uncalled for. It really, really pisses me off. Which level-headed person would pay a friend to drink alcohol against his will? It's fucked. Some people 'get off' on alcohol. Nicholas, who was a designated driver, encouraged others to take shots all night. This is what I mean by 'getting off' on alcohol. For him, watching two guys take shots at the same time is akin to how Romans watched gladiatorial contests in the Colosseum. A massive spectacle. Another thing that annoys me is when drunk people continually announce "I'm drunk," as if they expect a round of applause. The only thing they'd get from me is a shake of the head, and perhaps a sigh. Getting drunk is not a positive thing. It doesn't make you better than any sober person. It is not a thing that should be glorified. By the way, if anyone with an alcohol 'problem' or addiction is reading this, I do not feel sorry for you. You weren't born with such a problem; you brought it upon yourself. Another striking moment from last night is when one of my friends, Anthony, mentioned an upcoming party, and said to Lucas "If you're not gonna drink, then you shouldn't go. That's the only reason why people are going." Lucas replied "But Steven doesn't drink." Anthony's response took me by surprise. He said "Steven's an exception. People expect Steven not to drink." I don't think I replied to Anthony's comment; I was too lost in my thoughts. Why do I attract that label? Why must it be a big deal that I hardly drink alcohol? Why must people who don't get drunk or tipsy be seen as 'different'? Why have parties changed their purpose from a social sphere to interact, to a place to vomit your guts up? That moment occurred early on in the night, and it was then that I decided that I would write this blog.

The second issue that is on my mind, as you can gauge from this blog's title, is smoking cigarettes. Now, I wasn't offered any cigarettes last night, thankfully. That would have been awkward. Generally, smokers aren't as pushy as drinkers. Smokers generally realise that their habit is a negative one, but simply state that they are addicted. Most smokers that I know do not wish the habit upon friends and family. Drinkers, on the other hand, will almost always ask "Are you sure?" when you decline an alcoholic beverage. They are proud of their habit, and want others to join them in their drunken stupor. Last night, a friend who smokes changed chairs because his cigarette smoke was too close to my face. He did this out of his own will, and then exclaimed "A smoker should never bring a non-smoker down." That was very nice of him to say. If only more smokers could be as considerate as he is. This paragraph isn't being written in the same vein as the previous one. I'm not expressing my disgust for those who smoke, merely clarifying that I don't smoke, and that I never will. Can you believe that I've grown up in a house of smokers? That's right: Both of my parents, as well as my brother, smoke. Just about all of my brother's friends smoke. My neighbour, who frequently comes over to my house, smokes. I'm sick of being an innocent victim of passive smoking.   

To conclude this entry, I leave you with a final thought:

Am I the normal one, because I don't succumb to harmful temptations? Or am I the strange one, because I'm part of the minority who has no curiosity to try such substances?

Feel free to answer that question for me, but only if you're going to answer sensibly.

Regards,

Steven

Top Ten Jobs for the Taking if I've Fucked up my HSC

10. Cock fight commentator
09. Party clown
08. Kissing booth operator
07. The guy who writes those woeful jokes on the back of chip packets
06. Janitor at Fairfield Chase
05. Joke-writer for Christmas crackers
04. Rewind guy at the video store
03. Proactiv model
02. Waterboy for the Australian National Lacrosse Team
01. Author of fortune cookie messages, based in Brooklyn, New York

See? It ain't so bad.

I Have No Drive to Drive

On Wednesday, January 14, 2009, I turned 16. I could have taken my Learner's driving test on that day if I wanted to. "I'll wait two weeks or so until I try for my L's," I thought to myself. I just felt as though I needed that breathing space of two weeks before I tackled something such as driving.

It is Tuesday, December 14, 2010, and I still do not have my L's. I mean, it's not like I took the test and failed. I haven't even taken the test, period. If it's any consolation, I've taken the practice test numerous times, and have passed on most occasions. Now, for many teens, learning to drive is an exciting process - something they have craved since their junior years. A vehicle is generally associated with freedom. Most teens enjoy the prospect of driving because it gives their social lives some much-needed leverage. The thought of being able to drive to a place by oneself - a place where one wants to be, is tantalising to many teens. If a young adult has his/her own personal car, then that prospect is even more appealing. The adolescent mindset is one that generally has a focus on parental exclusion. Most teens don't want to be seen with Mum and Dad. They want to express individual will, and frequently associate with friends.

For whatever reason/s, those motivations have not come over me. I just haven't had the desire to learn to drive. OK...I was kinda lying when I said for whatever reason/s. I can think of a few specific reasons why I haven't gone for my L's yet. I will go through each reason in the form of an elaborated list.

1. A bad experience as a child - When I was approximately 9 years old, my dad had to get an old, faulty car to a smash repairs place (or something like that) at the end of my street. So, it was decided that my dad and brother would push start the car while I would control the steering and acceleration. Yes, it was illegal. Anyway, I lost control of the car, nearly caused an accident, and crashed into the gutter. Thankfully, no one was harmed. My dad and brother yelled at me, and I ran off home, frightened and confused. To this day, that experience remains quite vivid.
2. Growing up in a matriarchal household - If you didn't know, my parents divorced in 2003. For the past seven years, I've lived with my mum and my brother. My mum has never driven in her life - she doesn't have a licence, and has a self-confessed 'phobia of cars and driving'. Thus, for my adolescent years, I haven't had a father figure to 'show me the ropes', or to encourage me to drive. It seems that most teens these days learn to drive with their father. Of course, there's my brother, who is a good source of support, but in my opinion, he cannot be a direct substitute for a father. My brother has always been a good driver, and actually has an interest in cars, however I believe that he lacks the 'wisdom' or the 'experience' of a parent driver.
3. My brother teaching me - Speaking of my brother, he is the one who'll be teaching me to drive when I eventually get my L's. As I said, he is a good driver, and I have complete trust in him. It's just that I'm worried about how he'd react if I made a mistake (and I WILL make mistakes). In the past, he has told me off for very minor mistakes that I've made. He is quite impatient at times, and I would feel as if I was under too much pressure by learning under him. The fact of the matter is, I will be learning under him. I would actually prefer him to teach me than some driving instructor.
4. Fear of failure/question of difficulty - OK, this reason is slightly stupid, but I'm concerned that driving a car may actually be difficult. Of course, my bad experience as a child contributes to me having this feeling. I often think "Surely, driving cannot be difficult. Just look at how many people are on the road. Look at how many people my age are learning to drive. If the majority of people can drive, then surely, I can do it too." Despite thinking that, I still have my doubts. I want to learn to drive using an automatic transmission car. I honestly don't think I have the coordination or reflexes to drive a manual car. Since there are no automatic cars at my house, that makes things kinda difficult.

Well, those are my reasons for not yet attaining my Learner's licence. Now, many people, including some of my friends, are continually giving me a hard time over the fact that I still don't have my L's. I have laughed off many of their comments, but sometimes I find them to be quite annoying. There's a running joke between two of my friends - Lucas and Nicholas. They have told me numerous times that if I haven't got my L's by the time I am 18, they will pay for my L's test and drive me to the nearest RTA on my birthday. For some reason, I think it may come to that stage, sadly. Anyway, the bottom line of this blog is that you shouldn't make judgements about people without knowing the full story. It's not that I'm lazy. People don't remain lazy for this long. I happen to have numerous psychological reasons for my decision, which I have explained in this blog, and so you shouldn't just dismiss my decision as one based purely on laziness. Think before you speak, and allow me to go at my own pace.

Regards,
Steven

Phases

OK, let me just cut to the chase and tell you all that I haven't had the motivation to blog as of late. The last time that I blogged was November the 25th. Since then, I haven't had any impulses or desires to spill my thoughts on this site. Nothing has happened that has triggered a creative buzzer within me. My friend Lucas has told me that since graduating from school, he has lost some of his creativity. For example, he doesn't play his bass as often. Maybe the same thing has happened to me. Perhaps I'm still adjusting to post-HSC life. I feel like I'm letting my readers down by not blogging that much anymore. Sure; the previous sentence sounds a bit egotistic...but I only included it because people have genuinely complimented me on my posts. Some people have told me that they read my blogs before they go to bed, almost like a ritual. Others say my blogs provide them with relaxation. Anyway, enough about the compliments. I originally set up this site with the intention of blogging daily. That lasted for almost two weeks, but I realised that I was forcing myself to blog, rather than allowing my mind to unravel itself naturally. I was struggling to come up with good topics. It felt like I was writing in essay form in each post. That formula seemed to be a success, as far as blogs go, but it soon became tedious for me. My next decision was to blog about four times a week, but I didn't even have the motivation for that...as you have discovered. So now, I've decided that I will blog when I feel like blogging. I'm not imposing any rules on myself. That way, there is no pressure to blog, nor is there any guilt over not blogging. In a way, this is a positive thing, because I may produce a blog when you least expect it. I don't know about you guys, but I'm a big fan of surprises. Based on my blog frequency as of late, this entry will come as a surprise.

I've entitled this entry Phases, referring to an aspect of my mentality. That is, when I discover something new (e.g. blogging), I become attached to it. I may become attached to it for a few weeks, perhaps two months. Sometimes, the 'phase' only lasts for a few days. I think that every human being goes through their own 'phases'. I'm sure that a lot of you have gone through a phase where you've watched The Simpsons every day of the week for a considerable amount of time. Then you may not have watched the show for six months, only to resume watching it for another four weeks. Earlier this year, I went through a one-week phase of being addicted to crosswords, after watching the documentary Wordplay (a gripping film, may I add). I still do the occasional crossword, but I am no longer in a phase where I'm addicted to crosswords. One significant phase that I am currently in is listening to the music of Crowded House and Neil Finn. For those who don't know, Neil Finn is the frontman of Crowded House. I've been listening to their music consistently for at least three months now. I've been familiar with the band for ten years, probably. But only now have I become addicted to their music. They are practically the only band I listen to now...it's almost disturbing, in a way. For the record, Crowded House is my favourite band, and Neil Finn is my favourite singer-songwriter.

So, now that I've provided you with a couple of examples of 'phases', you may be able to understand why I haven't been blogging too often lately. The period when I was blogging daily was just a phase. Sure, I enjoyed it, but the reality is that it didn't feel natural. The excitement of blogging has left me, however the enjoyment of it still remains. Yes; there is a difference. Blogging no longer feels like new terrain for me. In saying that, I'm not a seasoned veteran, either. I've just gotten over that first hump. I now know what it feels like to blog, hence I don't get a thrill from writing blogs anymore. That's all for now...I can't tell you when I'll produce my next blog. You'll find that out, soon enough.

Regards,
Steven

Rozelle Tram Depot

The abandoned Rozelle Tram Depot at Glebe is one of those places that you would have entered as a child with an ear-to-ear grin, begging your parents to stay for 'just five minutes more'; the type of place that makes your eyes light up. I was lucky enough to go there today with two of my mates - Lucas and Nicholas.

This particular tram depot is the largest of its kind in Sydney. At peak capacity, it ran approximately 200 trams from1918, to its closure in 1958. Since the depot was abandoned, it has become a haven for the homeless, a hot spot for vandals, and most astonishingly, a virtual sanctuary for street artists. There are still five trams in the depot, as well a bus. All of these vehicles have been heavily vandalised, however, this vandalism is undoubtedly quite stylish and aesthetically-pleasing. Take a look at what I mean:

                                     

 

OK...maybe the trams aren't that aesthetically-pleasing on the inside, but from the outside, they are quite something. But it isn't just the trams that stand out in this amazing place. There is graffiti all over the place - not just crappy tags, but some impressive pieces of art. 

                                

I was initially worried that it would be hard to get into the depot. It is owned by the NSW Harness Racing Club, so I thought that there may have been security, or that all entrances would be blocked. That was not the case, and entry was as simple as walking through a set of massive gates. There is even graffiti on the building's exterior. Lucas and I were awestruck when we entered through the gates. Nicholas didn't really care that much. Lucas loves street art and photography, so this place was a goldmine for him. As for me, I also like street art, and I also enjoy exploring what I like to call 'hidden relics' of society. I've always enjoyed exploring unfamiliar places with interesting histories. There are spray cans scattered around the floor, as well as plenty of broken glass (windows from trams/the bus and the building itself). Some areas are moist and have plant life, whilst some areas are dangerous to walk on, due to missing, creaky or broken floorboards. What makes this place so exciting to explore (besides the art) is the vast amount of rooms it has, or the size of it as a whole. What's strange is that the toilets/shower block actually smells bad. It's quite creepy around that area. Believe it or not, there's still a bar of soap lying in one of the soap-holders! It isn't difficult to judge that the tram depot has been lived in, or is currently being lived in by squatters. There are food wrappers, empty bottles, clothes, mattresses...EVEN PORN! 

Lucas, Nicholas and I weren't the only ones inside the tram depot today. There was a group of people in there who were filming a video. It turns out that the video was being filmed for Oprah Winfrey, and will be shown to her when she visits Australia next month. It is hoped that Oprah can promote the Rozelle Tram Depot as a place of heritage and community, and stop the local council from building apartments on the land. How do I know this? Because I was asked to say a few words about the place. The woman who approached me to be in the video seemed very friendly and down-to-earth, so I was more than happy to help her out. Lucas declined a role in the video because he didn't want his face or name on TV, and Nicholas refused to participate because he actually wants the apartments to be built on the site. So, I gave the Rozelle Tram Depot a decent plug, and it was all honest, too. I really do like the place.

Once we had thoroughly explored the place, Lucas, Nicholas and I decided to bid it farewell. We took some 'souvenirs' with us, which were empty spray cans. A woman who was passing by with a baby in a pram asked us " [Have you] been vandalising the place, as usual?" Lucas told her that we were just taking photos, which is the truth. I didn't like that woman. She had an elitist mentality, probably because she lives in an affluent part of Sydney. I walked along a rock ledge to get past a padlocked set of gates (not the ones we entered through), and when I landed on the concrete, I hurt my toes, and yelled out "FUCK!" I found this to be funny, because the woman and her toddler were still very close to us. Hilarious.

After spending a couple of hours today at the Rozelle Tram Depot, I can definitely tell you that it is a spectacular place. It's tucked away, and not often heard about, but don't let that deter you from checking it out. If you have an interest in street art, Sydney's heritage sites, or just like exploring wide open spaces, then I recommend this place to you. I may even be going back there as soon as next week! I took 53 photos today, and you can see them on my Facebook (http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2083191&id=1050342231). Lucas took over 200 photos! Some are already up, but the entire set will be up by tomorrow.

Regards,

Steven

Year 12 Formal and Pat's After-party

"I've left schools and places I didn't even know I was leaving them. I hate that. I don't care if it's a sad good-by or a bad goodby, but when I leave a place I like to know I'm leaving it. If you don't, you feel even worse."

~ Holden Caulfield (protagonist of J.D. Salinger's The Catcher in the Rye)

Thursday, November 18, 2010. What a memorable night that was! As memorable as it was, it seemed to go by so quickly, which is generally the case with such nights. As I said my final goodbyes to some people last night, it really dawned on me that I may never see those people again. I don't think I truly realised this while I was at school, but I will indeed miss the vast majority of the Class of 2010 at Patrician Brothers' College Fairfield.

So...where do I begin? Firstly, I'll tell you all what my formal attire consisted of. My shirt was aqua, which wasn't a popular choice of colour amongst the grade. I chose that shirt because aqua/turquoise is my favourite colour. The rest of my attire was black. Black trousers, black jacket, black skinny tie and black shoes. Oh, and a black belt [if you care to know]. Black socks [if you REALLY care to know].

Before the formal, I went to Lucas' house for a 'meet-up'. Here, I met up with Lucas, Diego, Marbo, Mendoza, Garreffa, Jordan and Nicholas. We took a few photos and had a pre-formal beer. A nice way to break the ice...if there was any at all. Jordan drove himself to the formal in his Mazda ute. You've gotta admire the guy's honest and unpretentious choice. Mendoza got driven by his mum...I think. Everyone else but Marbo and I went in a Chevy that Lucas hired (at least I think it was a Chevy. I'm hopeless when it comes to cars).My brother drove Marbo and I to the formal in his V8 Holden Commodore. His friend, Daniel Grech, tagged along in the passenger seat. My brother did speed a little...because he likes to show off, but it suited the occasion. He did a small burnout around the corner from the venue of the formal (Conca D'oro at Riverwood). Surprisingly, he beat the Chevy to the venue, even though the Chevy left ten minutes earlier.

The venue itself wasn't as nice as I was expecting. The exterior is too dull, although I didn't really have a problem with the location of the venue, like some others did. Some people didn't like how it is surrounded by shops, but I liked it, in a way. It gave the night a real suburban touch. I felt that it was too dim inside the venue, that more lighting would have been nice. Also, as many others expressed to me, the place was a bit too crammed. I felt constricted in my surroundings at times. I was on table 4 with Marbo, Lucas, Rahul, Aquilina, Garreffa, Nicholas, Mendoza and his girlfriend Tanika. There was some slight controversy with the seating arrangements, with Mr Walker telling me I had to move tables. I showed him something that I didn't show enough of during my days at school - defiance.

The food that was served to us was a bit of a mixed bag. There were two entrees available, although we couldn't choose which one we got (just like all the courses on the night, but that's understandable). I got this:

I had no idea what it was when it was put in front of me. Mendoza said it was a Caesar salad. It actually wasn't as bad as I thought, although it became too messy towards the end. The other entree was something that looked like bruschetta. It didn't look that nice at all. The main course was rather nice. I was given the stuffed chicken with potatoes and beans.

The other option was veal. For dessert, I was given a chocolate mousse tart. It wasn't that great - the pastry was too hard, and the mousse had an air of artificiality to it. 

The other option looked like a cheesecake of some sort (perhaps lemon, caramel or vanilla). Not everyone ate their dessert, since they were too busy on the dancefloor. Oh, as for the dinner roll, it was rather hard - perhaps the hardest dinner roll I've ever eaten. A part of me died when someone (I think it was Lucas) took my glass halfway through the night, so that I didn't have anything to drink from for the rest of the night.

My level of social interaction wasn't the greatest last night, but I was far from being reclusive. At first, I felt socially awkward. I wasn't willing to get onto the dancefloor; I was sitting at my table - keeping quiet. I was thinking "Boy, this is gonna be a long night." As the night grew older, I found myself more willing to enjoy myself. So, I made my way onto the dancefloor, and at first, stayed near my friends. After all, I remember how eager I was to dance at my Year 10 formal, and so I didn't get why I initially felt reluctant to dance last night. I was actually surprised that no-one dragged me onto the dancefloor when one of Kesha's songs or Like a G6 came on. Cresta gave me a piece of his wisdom when I told him I was hopeless at dancing. He said "Don't worry about it. The way I see it, people may think you look stupid, but they aren't aware that they are doing the same thing." So, I moved my arms and tapped my feet like everyone else, despite not liking the music. But hey, even I will admit that there are certain occasions where up-tempo music is required. But you know what? Last night wasn't about the music; it was about celebration, and feeling good. I didn't care for what I heard, but I cared for the way it made me feel. When ABBA's Dancing Queen came on, some of the boys, including myself, formed a circle around Miss Penna - we dedicated it to her. It was a memorable moment. However, the highlight of the night for me was singing along to Bon Jovi's Livin' on a Prayer. It provided a chance for Dom Quaranta and I to show our love for proper music. I was sweating all over, and shouting rather than singing, but I was having the most fun I'd had in a while. A truly euphoric moment. When the formal was over, my ears were ringing, and my voice was rather raspy. I didn't actually stay around to say goodbye to people, although Mr Morizzi shook my hand when I was on my way out. This surprised me, as we never really spoke that much.

Lucas' dad provided a lift for Lucas, Marbo, Diego and I to Pat's after-party. We stopped at Lucas' house first, where Lucas and I got changed into some casual gear. I had taken casual clothes to Lucas' house when I went there earlier for the meet-up. My first thought when I arrived at Pat's house was "Fuck, what a steep driveway." My alcohol consumption was very limited, as usual. Just one Corona, and a small sip of some strong vodka that Garreffa had. I felt pretty talkative and open at this after-party. I didn't feel shy or awkward, like I do at most other social gatherings. I felt like what one should feel like at a party. Hanging with Jake Cartwright for most of the night was a funny experience, especially because he kept denying that he was drunk. To his defence, he wasn't smashed. But, he was a bit tipsy. I had a good chat with Fadie, Dean and Garreffa about modern music, and how it compares to older music. I gave Brandon Tran a hug, because I may never see him again. He told me to keep up my blogs...don't worry mate - I will! I had two Red Bulls. I discovered that everything is funnier when it is sung, a theory shared by Diego. I told Joe Ida that he featured in one of my dreams the other night. Antonio said that he would try alcohol for the first time ever...but I don't think that he did. Dean was...kinda flirtatious with someone of the opposite sex (perhaps I said too much). Mendoza popped a tyre. Cresta went to go and check it out, but stacked it while jumping over Pat's fence. In Pat's basement, I mistook a bra for two surgical masks that were stuck together - embarrassing.

Marbo, Lucas, Diego and I left the party at 2:30 A.M. When I got home, everything seemed so silent. I usually stay up until 2:30 - 4:00 each night, but it never feels that quiet, or as lonely. And then I thought, the silence and the loneliness was so apparent because my night had been one of social interaction and noise. The music at the formal, the casual chit-chat at the after-party - those were the things that amplified my life for several hours last night and early this morning. Once I was home, I had no-one to talk to. My mum and brother had gone to sleep, and so I was left alone with a mind full of bittersweet thoughts, and a pair of ears that were ringing. I put on the graduation DVD that was given out at the formal, and I smiled at some of the things that I saw/read. I went to bed at 5:30 A.M.

The truth is that I enjoyed the Year 10 formal more than the Year 12 formal; however, as far as nights go, last night was a bloody good one! If I was Holden Caulfield, I would not be disappointed, because I felt like I was saying goodbye to a place last night.

A special thanks to:
- Danny Nguyen and Andrew Chea, who took the images of the food used in this blog.
- Sebastien Khouri, for putting together the graduation DVD by himself.
- Joe Maganja, for getting me to and from places last night.
- The teachers who made last night possible, in particular, Mr Walker and Miss Penna.
- Every student from the grade who made my night so enjoyable. I'm gonna miss seeing your faces.

Regards,
Steven

Some Things are Better Left Unsaid

“We are masters of the unsaid words, but slaves of those we let slip out.” - Winston Churchill

Lately, I've been doing a bit of self-assessment, and have come to the realisation that I frequently voice many strong beliefs and opinions. Some would say that having an opinion and voicing it is a good thing, while others feel that opinions should be kept to oneself, because letting them out may create tension. Personally, I don't mind sharing my personal views on things, however in the past, some people have taken some things I've said in the wrong way. A lot of these things are my attempts at humour. For those of you who have ever watched Good News Week, you would be familiar with the dark humour that the show fosters. Many of the jokes told on that show are said with the intention to shock, and are centred around current affairs, or things that shouldn't be joked about. Yet people still laugh. There's an old saying that goes "Comedy is tragedy plus time." What this means is that a tragedy can be made into a joke, as long as enough time has passed since the tragedy occurred. Most of the time, I don't allow an adequate amount of time to pass, and I will say something that may be controversial, even if it's about a recent tragedy. People may take offence to what I say, but I brace myself for all kinds of reactions before I say something controversial. You may have heard me make jokes about religion before...not only religion itself, but God, Jesus, etc. Let me just clarify that religion is not above criticism. Just because some people consider religion sacred, and integral to their daily lives, doesn't mean that every individual must treat it with reverence. Anyway, that's all I'll say about religion, because too much criticism of religion will create an uproar. It always does. Now, some would say that my words on religion were accurate, and that they should have been expressed. Others will say that I said too much, and that I should have kept those things to myself. Personally, I think I said just the right amount of words on religion. I knew where to draw the line.

The reason I say a lot of things that may seem 'harsh' is because I know that others are thinking it, but are too afraid to say it. I value the truth, so I'm always happy to provide 'the other side of the story'. I really don't like when things are sugarcoated. People will believe anything they read in a newspaper these days. They will blindly conform to the latest trends. I'm the voice in the crowd who says "It's not as sweet as it sounds" or "You are wrong, and this is why..." Some people may look at me differently because I say such things, but it's the real me, so I'm not gonna sacrifice my true self for their approval. Despite this, there are times when even I realise what's right to say and what isn't. For example, if a young child presented me with a drawing of a house, and asked me if I liked it, then I would say yes, even if the drawing looked horrible. Young children have very fragile emotions, so saying something like "No, it looks like utter shit" would completely devastate them.

When looking at the phrase "Some things are better left unsaid," we must establish what is meant by better. Generally, it's better in the sense that no-one gets offended, or that everything remains calm. Some people may be physically assaulted over just a few words. Indeed, there are numerous negative consequences that could transpire due to words being spoken. Conversely, what happens if we keep things bottled up inside of us? Brooding thoughts gnaw away at our consciousness. We become distracted from various activities because we cannot focus on anything but those pensive thoughts. Or, as I have learnt, we may erupt in a fit of rage, and spit out all of the things that we've been bottling up. Last of all, we are gifted with the right of free speech. It may be a cliched thing to say, but it's true nonetheless. We shouldn't hold back just because a few people might object.

Fundamentally, it is up to the individual to decide what he/she discloses and what he/she keeps bottled up. There are advantages and disadvantages to both choices.

Regards,
Steven