A friend (female, single, solicitor-cum-entrepreneur, mid-30s), asked me over Saturday tea and sandwiches something like,

 "Would it have been easier to be happy if I'd chosen a normal life?"

Though a fairly simple question, it's loaded with assumptions:

1. That we have an unchangeable 'true' nature.
   This is a common theme in myth and religion, and evidenced by ourselves not being infinitely flexible. We are not chameleons.
2. That our unchangeable nature is common across humanity.
   This is a tempting assumption as we share many physical and non-physical needs in common with others.
3. That happiness and fulfillment come from following our true nature.
4. Following our true nature comes ... naturally.

At the beginning it looked like my friend's chips were down. Of course it would have been easier. She'd been picky and difficult all through her 20s, and was now single and childless as a result. Image: alternate her holding 2 never-realised children, saying, "Serves you right." As the talk progressed, however, we found ourselves discovering a few other ideas:

• It is not actually easy to be 'normal'. People are quite driven to fit into the aspirational demographic. Some adopt irrational methods, including getting (others) pregnant to acquire a family, making consumer purchases or investments to seemingly do nothing more than generate suitable conversation stories.
• If it was easier to do it, she would have done it already. But no, there was something, given her foresight, intelligence, and savvy that barred the suburban path, making it unnatural for her.
• People with enough smarts and independence of thought make abnormal choices not because we are being ornery, but because we have the ability to follow them through.
• Our abnormal choices are part of our true natures.

Now apply the previous assumptions to reach a startling conclusion...

The majority is not following their true nature. The happy families with their flatscreens, baby car seats, and their Wiggles DVDs are not being fulfilled at all. But they're too dumb to know, or do anything about it.

Anyways, You go, girl.

My love is not boundless,
(As some men profess theirs
to be,) like the infinite sea.
It's easily charted,
Circumnavigated,
And kept under close watch of me.

My love is not deep,
Like REM sleep,
With room for whimsy and play.
It's shallow and squalid,
With dream lurkers horrid,
That'll bite you if you turn away.

My love is not clean,
Like a fresh mountain stream.
It is muddy, complex, and impure.
Yet so strong and so rich
That when it hits your lips,
Be it bitter, you will surely want more.

Once pristine and unbounded,
'Twas on lovers squandered,
Who drank without thought to quench me.
Thus my love is rare,
Scarce without compare,
And this cupful I give to thee.

Whenever things go balls-up wrong, someone trots out the above pearl of wisdom. The assertion is that we can all 'learn' something, with the implication that blame is shared. If you weren't at fault then you wouldn't have anything to learn. You have something to learn, therefore you are partly to blame. Fault and loss of face is distributed.

But this quick distribution of blame is not always accurate. Blame is not always able to be shared. It often lies fairly and squarely on a single person's lack of preparation, poor execution, or conflicting goals. Furthermore, it is unfair for everyone else to cop the guilty party's share of self punishment.

For example, send your kids on a camp with inadequate equipment. They catch a cold. The children have learned to be tougher.

You don't want to stop too often on the freeway. As a consequence, you run out of petrol. Everyone else in the car can learn not to distract the driver.

It is often a race to declare tragedies of error to be 'learning experiences' because from that point on any learning that impugns the declarer's competence appears paradoxical. "You learned a lesson," "Yes, I learned you were wrong." Just doesn't work. The person who first calls the bollocking a 'learning experience' thus protects themselves from censure.

To resolve this, recognise the motive for calling something a 'learning experience'. You may then accept that you did learn a lesson, just not the one that they wanted you to learn.

This chestnut comes from my father. He would often use it to stop us kids from making excuses for failures, and to encourage us to take responsibility. People who spout this cliche often want to deflect blame away from their direction. Unfortunately, it overshoots the mark and can be damaging to people who have a tendency towards self blame.

The problem with the quote is that failure is often caused by a myriad of factors, rather than just one constant fault. To continue the trade analogy, the weather may have been unsuitable, or the materials defective. The tools may in fact have been inadequate.

Taking personal responsibility for failure is not always appropriate and can mask the real cause of failure. The truth in the proverb comes from the tendency for the 'poor workman' to continuously blame one thing - be it his tools or whatever - without taking time to find out the real cause. A workman who continuously blames himself is also a poor workman, and one who will have a very short career before the weight of all the blame causes him to quit.

A good workman will not be afraid of blaming his tools. A good workman will find where the blame really lies rather than placing default blame on himself. A superlative workman will have no fear of exposing the fault.

"Think about it" means "I want you to think that:" means "I want to believe that:"

"... you don't have to go through the pain that you did learning through your previous experiences. I think there's easier and better ways out there. Life should be more enjoyable than just slogging away. So think about it, dig deep, don't be stubborn, be open, and enjoy yourself."

Being dissed like that hurts. Yes, it is a gloating underhanded diss. Translation of the above:

"You were wrong. You chose the hard way. You didn't listen. You were too 'stubborn' to change."

Well, I hope you're proven horribly wrong, you smug yuppie cosckucker. I hope your 'easier and better way' leads you to spend years in the wilderness with no option but to do the slogging that you try so hard to deny. I'll be there to tell you that you should be more 'open'.

"Or do ye think that ye shall enter the Garden of Bliss without such trials as came to those who passed away before you?" Koran 2:214

People who tell you you're living in the past invariably want you to forget something they did to you.

As temporal beings we have 3 possible foci:

1. To dwell on resolving past events, putting present and future on hold;
2. To avoid both past and future and concentrate on producing the most pleasurable present;
3. To simplify past and present to maximise future returns.

Living in the present is considered enlightened. Living for the future is considered diligent. But living in the past is almost considered a mental illness. Why? When it is the only choice that does not require any self-deception.

Whether you approach your path through reflection, therapy, or physical revenge, you come closer to resolving it. However, it inconveniences people who have a vested interest in your past. And so they throw you chestnuts like 'let go', or 'forgive and forget'.

If Joseph 'forgave and forgot' then his 12 backstabbing brothers would not have learned a valuable lesson. Likewise, Job would not have forced God to show his hand had he simply accepted his friends' interpretation of his past misfortune.

Living in your past is only bad for the other people living there.

Thanks, Mum.

"They're just in it for the money."

With those words, Marc snapped me out of my 'why the hell didn't I subdivide and develop' stupor.

When you build upon a property, you have the opportunity to make an individual thing of beauty. Sandstone. Limestone. Ceiling roses on high ceilings. Stately, not necessarily large, but still grand. Look around the up-and-coming suburbs and all you'll see are neo-tuscan rendered trash-pieces, more like angular trailers than houses.

This generation of would-be property tycoons are failing miserably to fashion homes of substance. Keep the costs low and the margin high. God forbid you over-capitalise. Begs the question why they're developing if they're so worried about margin in the first place. They probably don't think about that in the crass rush against other middle-class to feed off the middle class.

Now I know why I didn't subdivide and develop like the other go-getters out there; because I would have exchanged one sturdy edifice on a full estate for half a community title', and two 'homettes' - less 'built' than 'extruded' - all so that I could feign despair over merlot and pud thai how much capital gains tax I was paying this financial year.

I am so glad that I chose the path I consider less contemptible. Denying I had sold a vision of independence for off-the-plan box homes and pieces of silver would have killed me.

If you can read this and you don't know what bourgeois means, it means you.

"With just this one agreement, you can completely transform your life."

I've been told to read (and re-read) the spiritual self- help libre-du-jour, The Four Agreements, by my close circle of meddling concerned.

As if I would shell out physical money for metaphysical value. Besides, if it really is ancient Toltec wisdom, magically expressed in folksy medicine-man English, then its copyright has probably expired and it should be free. Unfortunately I could not manifest the destiny of a free book. Or maybe I did; thanks Zac for the near-permanent loan.

Author Miguel Ruiz: surgeon, car-accident victim, shaman bearer of universal truth seems genuine enough in this publication, notwithstanding the heavy doses of Joseph Campbell in his autobiographical first chapters.

Man, I hope them shamans don't know any curses, because I'm about to give some spoilers.

Agreement One - Be Impeccable with your Word

Let's see. I'm always worried about saying the wrong time. And my parents told me children should be seen and not heard. Many a time I've saved the day by saying the right thing at the right time and by shutting up when it would not have gotten me anywhere. So it's safe to say I've mastered this agreement. Impeccable word: check!

Agreement Two - Don't take things personally

• "Aren't you taking this criticism too personally? Don't be so defensive."
• "Aren't you taking this downsizing a little personally?"
• "Aren't you taking me screwing your wife a little too personally?"

Bugger not taking things personally. If you force yourself not to take things personally then you'll never care about anything enough to make a change. Okay, fail. Next!

Agreement Three - Don't Assume

Don't use your gut instinct. Don't use your intuition. Don't use your experience. You'll only be acting out of fear. Open your mind and keep doubting yourself until you've drowned out that little voice inside you that refuses to stay silent. Don't assume because assumptions are bad, mmm-kay? Next!

Agreement Four - Try your Best

Trying your best is the excuse of those who fail. Effort means absolutely nothing. History books overwhelmingly chronicle those who succeeded over those who merely tried. Trying your best won't get you that scholarship, internship, bonus, or promotion. Being better than everyone else will.

Finished! Four Agreements in Four Minutes! A new Olympic record.

Flippancy aside, the Four Agreements is a sincere attempt to present the concept of personal integrity in an easygoing, digestible manner. However, it is written in such simplistic language as to leave it vulnerable to mis-interpretation. Although the Four Agreements sound sweet and simple, in reality they are maddeningly difficult. This critical difficulty cannot be expressed in Ruiz's sing-song whimsical style, and is therefore quite misleadingly not expressed at all.

The directory is out of date and you can never find the shop you want. Even if you do find the shop you want, it won't have what you want. Or it will be too expensive, or it won't come in blue.

The sales-person will usually be someone young and pretty with spiked up hair and at least one piercing, or some crusty old fart who hates their life. Regardless, they shop in the same mall they serve. They are just like you, and they know it. So they have no problem telling you that what you were looking for was discontinued, or they can order it in but no guarantees as to when it will get there. Besides, why did you want that, anyway? It's so last season. If you really want value for money ...

So you shamble from store to store, buying a heap of crap in an attempt to displace the memory of your true desire. Ultimately this makes you doubly unhappy, from the crushing dissatisfaction as well as the revulsion of your compromise.

But what else can you do? If you go to a mall and choose not to shop, people look at you funny. Even the lumberjack-shirted, ugg-boot wearing, pram-pushing middle-class wanna-bes will think you're a retard. Why are you denying yourself? Ýou're such a miser. Money's only good for one thing, you can't take it with you. You can't always get what you want. Don't be so fussy. Don't be so critical. You're not making the most of your experience.

But let's face it, until now your experience has been nothing but struggle. Struggle to drive there, struggle to find a  park. Struggle to walk in, find an (out-of-date) directory or a concierge desk that's manned. To top it off, the struggle to accept that while everyone else seems to be content with what they have, i.e. PVC bags full of consumer dross, you find the thought bitterly shameful. If you leave empty-handed now, without even a smoothie or a handy hint on re-lining your jacket from one of the sales staff, then it will all seem like a total waste.

The real waste is staying there one second longer than you have to. The struggle of coming, the struggle of going; both are fixed costs and cannot be ameliorated by the piles of junk we pile into our trunks. Leaving after finding our desires frustrated is valid, and that revelation is the nearest to heaven we get; until we realise that our only other choices are more shopping malls.

Unconditional love is not all it's cracked up to be.

Because it relies on no external stimuli, unconditional love is also unpredictable love. It has no rationale for beginning and therefore needs no reason to end. Conditional love on the other hand, will by definition persist as long as the condition persists.

Someone who loves you for no reason other than who you are'' can also stop loving you for no reason at all. Whereas someone who loves you for something definite like your bling/booty will do so as long as you retain those qualities.

Unconditional love is widely regarded as the 'higher love' but its unfettered nature lends it an uncomfortable unpredictability. We have all had lovers who, loving us unconditionally one day, would feel justified in ditching us the next, having found no distinct qualities of ours to bind their infatuation to. We may even have loved and dumped unconditionally ourselves. God allegedly loves us unconditionally, but he occasionally - and without adequate warning - turns off the affection tap long enough to send along an earthquake, a bloodthirsty totalitarian regime, or a personal disaster despite our best efforts to appease him through prayer, piety, or human sacrifice.

With that in mind, a contractually-flavoured, conditional love may be more attractive, if only because we can be certain in how to maintain it.

Unconditional love does not imply eternal love.

They said it couldn't be done.

Actually, they didn't. 'They' could not imagine why I would want to:

1. Buy a old-style ball-foot bathtub. ($100 including delivery);
2. Put it on bricks in my garden (out of sight of the housemates);
3. Hook it up with a multitude of hose connectors to the (solar) hot water system;
4. Whack in a giant tube of polydrain to water my plants with the outflow.

The benefits are self-evident. Starry nights lying in my own personal hot spring (露天風呂) with a cool glass of alcoholic beverage to keep the toxins flowing as I steam my tension away.

Screw water restrictions. Ladies and gentlemen, I present "ウィーの湯" (pronounced 'Wee-no-yu').

Final thought: it fits two. Aww Yeeah.

Easy for you to say, motherf*cker.

What if the 'now' is completely screwed up? What if your present is where the proverbial doo-doo hits the fan and you are impotent to rescue it? What if, for example, the present is filled with your parents' divorce, being ignored by your classmates/colleagues, or your body in constant pain?

Why should you make the most out of a now that sucks like a Dyson? Should you be condemned for longing for the past or attempting to picture a brighter future? Apparently so, according to hard-core new-agers who simplistically urge you to live in the present.

'Living' implies submission to the course of events that shaped a present contrary to your wishes. You need not submit to something ambivalent to your wishes, indeed your existence. You need not accept your Dad's new girlfriend or the company restructure. With your eye on the future and your hand on your cudgel you can bludgeon your present into a future worth living in.

I refuse to live in a present that sucks.

No, you moron. It's the destination. Always has been.

The longest, most luxurious journey means nothing if you don't get where you want to go, and even less if you get nowhere at all. If it weren't for the destination, who in their right mind would bother even starting a journey?

If it weren't for destinations, you'd only be able to buy mystery flights. You might as well never bother to have any goals in life or work to form any ideas about how to achieve them, especially if when things go wrong, some well-meaning imbecile gleefully reminds you that your destination - a goal that you chose, exercising your God-given free will - is rightfully overridden by some other random 'great journey'.

What they don't understand that a journey without a destination is simply aimless wandering. We would not be here if our ancestors believed it acceptable to live life with no other purpose than to commute between birth and death. The history of mankind is written by the few who decided to search for a destination worthy of struggle, not those who chose to infer an aimless future from an unpredictable present.

Other people may have given up in the face of failure. They may have told themselves something to make themselves feel better, like "It wasn't God's will", or "It's the journey, not the destination." You do not have to accept their failure projected onto you. You don't have to accept them shoving their fatalism down your throat. If you have a clear idea where you want to be and you want to take the expressway, not the side streets then let no-one belittle your refusal to compromise.

So when you get sideswiped by life it doesn't mean you've been blessed with a pleasant little detour. It means that some capricious celestial meddler has knocked you off course. You may accept and choose to explore this change of direction to the fullest like some fatalistic limp-wristed pussy. Or you can granny-knot your bootlaces and scythe a bloody path back to what you know will be the quickest route to where you want to go.

Without destinations, there are no journeys.

What's that mister postman? A letter from the Law Society for me?

Ohpleaseohpleaseohpleaseohplease...

"That Derek Tee Chong Wee be granted a Practising Certificate..."

Yes! yes! Who da man? ME da man! Yee ha! Get your recommended daily intake of vitamin Wee! Right here!

"...upon application to the Law Society."

Huh?! So all I was applying for was the right to apply?! For crying out loud! The humanity! The arse-grabbing, pen-pushing, cock-blocking humanity!!!

Step one: get a certificate of good conduct from the Legal Practitioners Conduct Board, for the purposes of an application under Rule 9.

"... Derek Tee Chong Wee [that's me!] has not been the subject of any disciplinary proceedings by the legal practitioners conduct board pursuant to the legal practitioners act 1981."

Check!

 I don't want to go home. The food sucks. The shops close too early. The people are ugly. My family think something is wrong with me. The only things Adelaide has to offer the world, in my opinion, is wine and cheese.

So why accept a job there?

The plan was to move to Brisbane or Sydney, but honestly if I did, what I've been offered is exactly what I'd be looking for. Most people wanting to change careers into law need to go through law school and pre-admission (as a - ew - mature age student.) But I've already done that. I'm like, "Here's a career change I prepared earlier."

Don't talk to me about IT. There is no IT boom except for the 'business' side, which means saying 'yes' to everything the 'customer' wants, and 'programming', which is about nerding around ancient programs that only two people use and no one else can fix. I've been burned three times in a row by IT. It's dead to me. Dead.

Teaching English (unqualified) is like saying I have yellow fever or I can't get a job back home. Or both. I never really felt comfortable with that.

I've lived off rent and dividends for 6 months now. But I need some work to fulfil my investment objectives. I guess I would be prepared to work full time if I could say I was something important, like a lawyer, or a landlord, or a professional investor. And since I seem to feel no respect being the latter two, that only leaves lawyer.

So yeah, bought my tickets (return, naturally,) for the 16th August. I'll give this gig:

1. Six months if I don't get a practicing certificate;
2. Two years if I do. Then I go 'unrestricted' and burn my name in the road.

That's all, Adelaide. Impress me. I'm waiting. Or whatever, just pass the wine and cheese.

"Nothing, I am sure, calls forth the faculties so much as the being obliged to struggle with the world." Mary Wollstonecraft

If he speaks first he wins the argument. If she speaks first she wins. However, for the sake of peace both stay quiet and stew in solitary discomfort.

Sound familiar? Mathematicians will instantly recall the Prisoner's Dilemma, as follows:

Two suspects, A and B, are arrested by the police. The police have insufficient evidence for a conviction, and, having separated both prisoners, visit each of them to offer the same deal: if one testifies for the prosecution against the other and the other remains silent, the betrayer goes free and the silent accomplice receives the full 10-year sentence. If both stay silent, both prisoners are sentenced to only six months in jail  for a minor charge. If each betrays the other, each receives a five-year sentence. Each prisoner must make the choice of whether to betray the other or to remain silent. However, neither prisoner knows for sure what choice the other prisoner will make. So this dilemma poses the question: How should the prisoners act?

Cooperating gives a better outcome, but betrayal maximises your gain or minimises your loss in light of what your fellow prisoner chooses. Thus betrayal - not cooperation - is the dominant strategy. It seems 'honour among thieves' holds until other thieves are involved.

This branch of mathematics known as 'game theory' is full of irrational - some would say cynical - results. Yet game theory and the prisoner's dilemma in particular sees extensive practical application in psychology, law, biology, and military strategy.

Which brings us back to lovers' quarrels. The Prisoner's dilemma seems to suggest that since betrayal is the dominant strategy then partners should 'betray' each other wantonly by raising taboo subjects, despite the peace being at stake.

However, that is only for a single turn of the prisoner's dilemma; in relationship terms, similar to casual flings. Things are very different when the prisoner's dilemma is played over and over again, with scores accumulating. This game is called the iterated prisoner's dilemma, and more closely resembles long term relationships, where what you say will be held against you indefinitely; perhaps even until death do you part.

In a competition for computer programs to 'play' iterated prisoner's dilemmas, cooperative strategies produced the best results. The judges noted that for a strategy to be successful it would have the following characteristics:

• Nice - that is, it will not defect before its opponent does.
• Retaliating - It must always retaliate if wronged. An example of a non-retaliating strategy is Always Cooperate. This is a very bad choice, as "nasty" strategies will ruthlessly exploit such softies.
• Forgiving - Another quality of successful strategies is that they must be forgiving. Though they will retaliate, they will once again fall back to cooperating if the opponent does not continue to play defects. This stops long runs of revenge and counter-revenge, maximizing points.
• Non-envious - The last quality is being non-envious, that is not striving to score more than the opponent.

It is somehow pleasing to know that keeping the peace profits us as individuals, and not solely the relationship; even though done grudgingly, with occasional injections of cheery sarcasm, and 'mutually assured destruction' a hair trigger away.

The only alternatives are: firstly, to play many single-round games, secure in the knowledge that betrayal is a certainty. Secondly, to simply not play at all. Neither alternative helps those currently engaged in iterated prisoner's dilemmas of their own.

So when you hit that loving stalemate, the math is clear: shut up, put up, and stay together. It's for your own good.

"He's gotta be strong, And he's gotta be fast, And he's gotta be fresh from the fight. " Bonnie Tyler - Holding out for a Hero.

There's a belief going around that people are finding it harder to enter relationships because they're looking for more out of their partner. This belief has two prongs:
a) looking for more out of a partner makes it harder to find one.
b) it was easier to marry in the past because people were less fussy.

Certainly, my parents divorce causes me to impose extra criteria on possible soul-mates. With rising divorce rates and unconventional parenting I believe many Gen-Xers and Gen-Yers think the same way.

Imagine the entire human population as a big pool. From that pool we will choose people who meet our requirements. 100% of the pool is '1'. We call the number of requirements 'x'. We call the percentage of suitable people in our pool 'y'. 'a' is how much each requirement reduces the pool.

So how much harder is it when you have high standards? Knee-jerk reasoning says the difficulty is proportional to the number of requirements you have. Inverting the conventional wisdom, we get: 'each standard reduces the pool by a set percentage' expressed as:

y = 1 - ax

The graph shows a straight line starting at 100% making its way straight down toward zero. 'a' controls how steep it goes. But 'a' remains unknown. This is not a particularly reassuring thought because we don't know how many requirements we're allowed to have before we hit zero and get nothing. It's one thing for relatives to tell us that if we're picky we'll end up alone. It's another thing to have it illustrated mathematically. It's yet another thing to have 'too picky' remained undefined.

Don't panic! In reality, filtering by requirements does not work this way.

First major assumption: each requirement halves the suitable population. Obviously this is not going to be true. While filtering by gender will effectively halve the population, filtering by income or appearance may return greater or less than half. Still, for simplicity's sake let's assume halves. For example, you want a member of the opposite sex. This halves the population. You want them to have a steady job. This halves the remaining population. From a starting population of 100 this means that a half is fifty. A half of a half is twenty-five.

You can see this is quite drastic as each requirement halves the resultant pool! If you've ever cut a cake into halves, quarters, then eighths, you will realise how quickly you're left with nothing but crumbs! We express this mathematically thus:

y = 1 * (1/2) ^ x or y = 1/2^x

Inspecting the curve, we see that while each requirement lessens the pool, each successive requirement lessens the pool far less than the effect of the previous requirement. And no matter how many requirements we have, we will never hit 0%. This is indeed good news for fussy people; you can never be too picky.

The Wonder Years
One thing that really struck me about my parents' and grandparents' generations was how easily they all got married. Maybe it's because their marriage is a fait accompli but many think it was because they were less choosy when it came to partners.

The obvious counter-argument is that they had a far smaller population to choose from as well as wars and disease to contend with. Does having extra requirements really make that much of a difference?

Let's imagine hypothetical 1970s requirements:

1. Member of the opposite sex
2. Appropriate age
3. Unmarried
4. Physically attractive
5. Member of a compatible race
6. Holding a steady job
7. Member of the appropriate social class

These seven requirements filters out all but 0.8% of the population. Which, for a 1970 global population of 3.9 billion still gives us a respectable 31 million candidates.

Now onto hypothetical 2007 requirements. These are, if conventional wisdom is to be believed, more numerous (albeit different) to requirements in previous decades:

1. Member of the opposite sex
2. Appropriate age
3. Unmarried
4. Physically attractive
5. Sexually compatible
6. Similar interests and values
7. Has a profession, or direction in life
8. Not be too possessive or blase
9. Compatible timing

Nine requirements, 0.2% of the population. For a population of roughly 6.7 billion, this gives us 13 million candidates. It's too hypothetical to conclude anything but that it would be easy for society pressures to change requirements such that the filtering effects overtake population growth.

No one likes the possibility that we will be forced to choose from a shrinking pool. Even scarier is the alternative, solitude. It's as if the requirement for companionship is itself made up largely of historical pressure which has not yet changed with the times.

But perhaps we need not cry over spilled milk. Especially not when there's a full bottle of Stoli in the fridge. The 21st century offers us incredible opportunities to explore our own bodies minds and spirits. If fate finds us without a person to partner we could do worse than to try finding better partners in ourselves.