Since you and I are now best friends, an assumption for sure, I want to let you in on one of my best kept secrets. I’ve lied my entire life about being afraid of the water. Shock horror! Gasps can be heard around the world. Why, I hear dozens of you asking? Because I don’t like sharing the beach with everyone. It’s nice to exist with my thoughts and connect through the moana–feeling my body one with the ocean. As poetic as that sounds, I’ve just exposed myself in the hopes of chatting about beach culture and what that’s turned into as I grow older.
In my teens, I lived in Raglan [kinda] and spent a fair chunk of my time there for school and wasting time on the beach. Life, when you’re younger, is so much easier without the daily stresses of what taxes mean and whether we should be more concerned about the ozone healing or that Madeleine McCann is possibly alive in Poland. Wish I could say more on that but we don’t have Grace Mitchell here to fill 400 pages on the matter. No matter, we were all carefree and didn’t seem to notice that life wasn’t going to be LOL drinks and sun rays as we sauntered up the hill back to class. Now it’s draughts and dizzy stumbles to a grotty flat that you’re paying through the nose for–keeping tabs on the rising prices of everything necessary to survive. Perhaps we’re living in the alternate reality that the Daniels were talking about in their academy award winning film.
Pushing through to the end of High School and dog days of Uni, Puberty Blues comes full force to face fuck you with the idealised world of Byron Bay and how your life is a little more shit because you’re not surfing it up and throwing back chikko rolls with a man that DEFINITELY doesn’t shower enough to warrant cheeky road head with an impactful gulp. Bit of a mouthful you reckon? Tell me about it, poor wee Debbie didn’t stand a chance. I’ve made the argument that Home and Away was doing this shit well before the kids of Sutherland Shire though they didn’t make it look nearly as grungy and sad. Fuck I wish I could teleport, even just for a minute so I can grow my hair out and look pensively into the surf.
What do all these things have in common? Unrealistic expectations for what could end up being a sad fucking existence. Sorry to burst that bubble. Topics of conversation in the Nexus office will quite often make their way back to “I think I’ll eventually end up on the beach somewhere, my heart belongs there”. Mind it’s mostly me or our Media Designer, Jordan, but it leads me to think about what that means and whether we’re romanticising a life that we’ll never achieve. Want to know where I ended up in that grand plan of thoughts to no end? I think it’s a beautiful thing that no one will take from us. Dreams are there to make sure your creative side of that noggin is still ticking. Can safely say mine is still there and going hard.
I’m almost two years into this role and I’m still not entirely sure what it is I want to achieve from the editorial. It’s always a mix of advice, setting up the issue and, more importantly, me just expressing my unhealthy obsession with Australian teen shows that feature a surfing kid and some drama at a high school. My hope is that there’s something being taken from me, and not just yelling into a void. Let me know if you’re needing specific answers to things and I’ll accommodate if I can.
Start romanticising your life, even the small mundane things that don’t usually deserve the light of day. You’re going to appreciate it more when you look at the positives. And hey, if your dream is to surf and make coffee in Byron Bay–save a seat for your old mate here. Eyes on the future and make sure you’re always striving for the most unrealistic version of your teen Aussie drama.
Catch ya soon dogs, Uncle Jak.
