Wednesday, January 10, 2007

Don't enter awards competitions, just don't.

Update (11/01/2006): This post also appears as a feature at indiebloggers. Woo! - This message was brought to you by an9ie, spreading the snark since 2005.

I did a very bad thing yesterday. It was terrible, and it made me feel awful, horrible, gutted, replete with self-loathing. I will never allow myself do anything like that again, unless MFC discovers cold fusion, or I become some kind of super-powered mutant (hmm, make a note: good conversation-stoppers for the school reunion).

Also, I will probably have to stop being the poster-girl for schadenfreude, and dudes, it's not just a job, it's a calling, OK?

So here is the Incredibly Bad Thing I did: I Googled my ex-classmates. From Uni.

Unfortunately, I found them. They were never the kind of people to sink into obscurity, the Honours crowd, they were brilliant and ambitious and fun to be with.

One was a former CTO for a company in London, and now he and another classmate have started up their own company in Perth. It looks like they're on to something pretty good, they'll probably make a ton of money and retire before 40. Reading their bios made me want to screw up my resumé and recycle it into toilet paper. And not the soft cotton-rich stuff either, but the recycled brown matter you find in National Park toilets. You know, that gritty concoction that looks like it's been pre-mixed with crap and freeze-dried sand.*

But I didn't stop there. No. Because Angie is a moron.

Although my self-esteem was already in the U-bend, it appeared I wouldn't be satisfied until I'd flushed it all the way to the sewage plant.

I Googled some more people I knew. People who were younger than me, and certainly a lot more focussed than me at the time** (I spent a lot of my Uni days drinking chocolate milk and watching Buffy. That's pretty much all I remember. The rest is a sugar-glazed blur). And holy crap! This guy that I'd always envied, because he was studying 3D animation at Curtin, is now a visual effects artist for Rising Sun Pictures, and worked on The Last Samurai and the third Lord of The Rings. Another girl went to Oxford as part of her PhD and has a pilot's licence.

Unfortunately, there were people around, so I couldn't tack a Post-It onto my worthless carcass saying "Ship to Chum factory" and then kill myself.

The moral of this story:

Like Bruce Mau says in his manifesto (I believe it is number 26), "Don’t enter awards competitions. Just don’t. It’s not good for you."

Basically, I'd made up my own awards competition in my head, and dear god, I'd come last.

In a competition I MADE UP.

IN MY HEAD.

Just don't do it, m'kay?

* Colons do not require exfoliation, that's all I'm saying.
** Actually, I'm not that great at focussing in general, except when I'm at a party and someone comes out with finger food. Then it's all, "I am a hungry Jedi, you will bring the plate... to me..."

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