… but as hard as I try, I am just not cool.
- P.J. Harvey. Nick Cave. Jarvis Cocker. I don’t dislike them or anything. I know they are talented musicians who have insight and integrity. And, dammit, they are the definition of cool. (And most of my friends adore them.) They just don’t sing my song.
- Coconut oil. And I live in Hipster-ville!! I know all about its beneficial properties. I believe that it is the way of the future as far as sustainable food production is concerned. I’ve tried, believe me I’ve tried! It just makes me want to barf.
- Those bike buggies for small kids. I have many friends who are avid cyclists and used to be one myself (though “avid” would be a bit of a stretch in my case). There are some great bike paths in Melbourne and most motorists are considerate when it comes to bike lanes. But those flimsy tents on wheels, rolling under every vehicle’s blind spot, just push all my anxiety buttons.
- Running. Yeah, I put a half-marathon on my Mondo Beyondo list. I suspect I put it there because I felt like it wouldn’t be a dream list without one. Running makes my joints janky. Light on my feet, I ain’t. I did sign up for Wanderlust but I suspect it was because I just wanted to be a person who attended something like Wanderlust. I’ll be walking that 5k in May.
- Whisky. My husband adores it. I like the feeling of having drunk a little bit of it. But the burn as it goes down? Give me apple cider vinegar any day.
- Camping. I seriously envy folk who have skills in the hunt and gather department. I wish I enjoyed getting down and dirty in the great outdoors. The fact that people I know can happily sleep on the ground in a sleeping bag, even sit on the ground without needing to rest their back against something, makes me weep with jealousy. These are the people who’ll be having the last laugh when all those end-of-days scenarios we’ve been reading about come to pass.
- Reading the newspaper. (Other than the arts pages.) Watching the news. Knowing stuff about politics and economics and being able to have an adult conversation about them. Like most champagne socialists, my opinions are largely motivated by emotion.
- Septum rings. I am pretty sanguine about piercing and tattoos and have a couple myself. And I have the greatest of respect for people who are prepared to withstand that sort of pain in the name of individuality. But the piggywig look just doesn’t work for me.
- Group anything. Individuals? Any time. But that thing that happens when you get a group of human beings together and require that they spend sustained amounts of time and energy in order to achieve a common goal? Even if that goal is to have a good time? That thing that always ends up resembling the primary school playground? Pass.
- Facebook. I know it’s still one of the easiest ways to connect with friends overseas, keep up with distant family, sell stuff to people, share stuff in private groups etc. I know it’s a conversation that I am sometimes expected be participating in. Then my sister informs me that someone I went to primary school with sent her a message asking her if I was on Facebook… and then I’m seriously glad I’m not.
There, I said it. Judge if you must. Or go one better and raise me.