Welcome to my Medium - An Introduction From the Master of Awkward First Impressions

Hi. Glad you’re here.

My name’s Dan. I’m that guy in the pink above.

Don’t let the funky suit fool you. I’m an abysmal, ABYSMAL skier.

In saying that, my pink suit did serve a few crucial purposes.

Firstly, it was a fantastic identifier for my snow-experienced buddies, who would wait on the slopes and keep their eyes out for the pink blob.

The pink blob that was either:

  • Contorting its shape in previously unseen, biologically fascinating ways.
  • Fist pumping its way down the kid’s section of the slope, sacrificing almost all velocity for execution of an unrivalled and completely flawless snow-plow technique.
  • Still at the bottom of the chairlift, as the staff attended to the ‘poor lady in the pink’ who showcased an impressive amount of air-time when ‘she’ fell off the chair. Face first.

Secondly, this pic of me in the suit scored me a lot of likes on Facebook. Which, you know, was good for my ego and stuff.

Finally, the suit literally has a label on it that says ‘WILLYFINDER’ and also has a pocket specifically designed to hold your beer. And if that’s not worth spending 1/3 of your holiday budget on, then your priorities just aren’t in the right place.

What was I getting at?

Oh yeah, so that’s me. And I’m super glad to meet you.

Just so you know, before we move ahead — being a shit skier and being frivolous with my spending and are only two minor aspects of my character.

It’s funny though, odd traits like that tend to be the ones I’ll manage to weave into a first impression most of the time. Like I did for you just then.

But the issue is, if I bring these things up when I meet someone who never upgrades beyond a mere acquaintance, often times these seemingly unimportant facts genuinely form their perceived notion of my identity.

And it sucks … cause then I’m forever stuck — stuck in a perpetual cycle of forced laughter and awkward chit chat about the same odd anecdote every time that the person has the audacity to enter my presence.

It concerns me so much that I’m notoriously agile and alert in the habitats of my acquaintances — namely my uni local shops and bars.

But let’s not let that happen to us though reader. Let’s really get to know each other.

And we can start with me first, if you’re willing to read my medium.

It’s not quite a standard medium to be honest.

All in all, it isn’t organised particularly well. The squiggly red underline that Microsoft Word puts under misspelt words is the best kind of editing I can afford.

I haven’t really nailed a niche theme for it either. It also has no ongoing linear narrative. And no rising tension. And no climax.

And even if there was, say, a little bit of those things woven in — they’re certainly not executed a) conventionally and b) that well.

I mean, the tension definitely doesn’t rival the tingling, raw kind that brilliant stories have. The Jack and Rose tension. The Psycho pull of the shower curtain.

No, no. The tension is much less moving. It’s more like your everyday, shitty, awkward tension.

Phone calls with the boss when you’re faking sick.

When your grandma sees your dinner unfinished.

That grim moment when you’re being introduced and have to assess whether the protocol is to shake hands, hug, or — because anxiety would have it too easy otherwise — to go for the coveted kiss on the cheek. Hair raising stuff, truly.

And yeah — It won’t imbue huge cathartic climaxes either. I’d like to think I’m capable of delivering epiphany-inducing emotional releases. Unfortunately, most of the time my performance will be brief and lacklustre — like a real iffy one-night stand.

Iffy, but I mean, you may revisit until something (inevitably) better comes around.

Jesus. I really haven’t done a good job of selling my medium (or myself) so far have I? Let me try again — I don’t mean to deter you.

I mean to excite you. Because like Seinfeld, like Friends, like my favourite TV shows ever — my medium is about the nothingness of my all things considering, modest life.

I talk about things like family and friends. Education and Work. Sciency stuff that interests me. Juicy topics like sex and drugs.

Sometimes I ramble about random shit too.

Importantly, most of what I talk about encompasses aspects of my life as a millennial.

And it took me a while to get here. I’ve written blogs over the last couple years for school. After a few gained traction, people told me I should start writing more. So I had a crack at it properly for a few months.

When I started, I wasn’t in a good headspace. I wrote in-between full time work and uni, whilst I was still reading a tonne, heavily addicted to video games, partying and mulling over a breakup. I wrote mostly on the bus.

And after that time, after all my hard work — I had some miraculous pieces of writing in front of me.

Some miraculous pieces of shit.

One of them — about one third of an attempt at a Rom Com, was so unbelievably cringe.

Seriously, Hugh Grant would murder me if he read it — and somehow, I imagine he’d make the experience rather pleasant and gratifying.

Might just be jealousy [confirmed], but it always pissed me off that Hugh Grant’s character was always able to resolve absolutely any conflict or drama through a bit of awkward giddiness and wordplay. I mean, he so easily transitioned to the happy ending! I was never convinced by the rising tension. That hair-parted charmer was always going to land the goddess.

I dunno, makes you wonder whether all it takes is charisma and a good hairdresser… or whether this dude is rocking a porn star dick or something.

It was awful. And I didn’t know what to do.

Mum gave me the simple solution: ‘You’re good at blogs, write about a bunch of different stuff you like.’

And here we are.

The beautiful curse of being a millennial is that privacy is a thing of the past. Social media means that I can stalk anyone I want (and I really do).

Friends. Acquaintances. Tinder matches. I know way more about them through a 5-minute stalk of their Facebook and Instagram than I really ought to. And admittedly, I can’t help but feel creepy when I bring up a post I happened to see on Facebook about them.

Yeah … happened to see. When I scrolled through your 262 tagged photos.

In light of this, I figured — Fuck it. Since everyone can just stalk me anyway, I might as well just share my story with you all. And do it my own way.

So I don’t hold back for you in this book. We’ll delve into my personal life. You’ll hear my thoughts, anecdotes, frustrations and confusions about everything.

You might agree, disagree, cringe and smile at a lot of things. If else fails, you’ll read the words on the screen.

So I welcome your judgment (and potential appreciation) with open arms.

Hi, I’m Dan and this is my Medium. Nice to meet you!