Category Archives: Stories

Sep 28 2025
2 Comments
Informational, Stories, Student Profile

Melbourne vs Sydney Uni Life: What No One Tells You

Today’s post is a Guest Post from a reader, which I thought would be worth sharing.

When I was weighing up whether to study in Melbourne or Sydney, I assumed the choice would be all about rankings, glossy brochures, and which city looked better on Instagram. Both are global cities. Both have beaches (yes, Melbourne technically does, but you’ll hear the debate about St Kilda beach until the end of time). Both have big universities with sprawling campuses.

What I didn’t realise is that your uni city isn’t just where you go to class. It becomes your environment, your community, your backdrop for some of the most formative years of your life. The little details, rent prices, weather, the way people talk to each other on public transport matter more than you think. They shape how you feel, who you meet, and even how you grow.

I’ve studied in Melbourne, but I’ve spent a fair amount of time with friends in Sydney, swapping stories and living in each other’s worlds for short bursts. Comparing the two has been eye-opening, and what I’ve learned is that the differences aren’t just surface-level.

So, here it is. No sugar-coating, no PR spin. The costs, the culture, the good, the bad, and the in-between. This is what no one tells you about Melbourne vs Sydney uni life.

The Brutal Reality of Costs

Sydney is expensive. Painfully so. It’s the kind of expensive where you’ll scroll through rental listings and wonder if a windowless cupboard counts as a “studio apartment.” If you want to live anywhere remotely close to the city or eastern suburbs, be prepared to pour most of your paycheck into rent.

I stayed with a mate in Sydney who was paying nearly $400 a week for her half of a shoebox apartment in Glebe. My rent in Melbourne? Half that, with an actual living room and a kitchen where you could open the fridge without smacking into the wall.

Melbourne is hardly cheap, but it’s manageable. You can live in a share house within tram distance of the city without needing three side hustles. Groceries are about the same, but eating out feels less punishing. There are hidden gems – dumpling spots in Chinatown, $12 laksa in the CBD, Vietnamese rolls in Footscray, where you can get full without your bank account crying.

Sydney does offer higher casual wages, especially in hospitality, and there’s more demand for casual staff. My Sydney friends working in cafes or retail definitely earn more per hour than I did in Melbourne. But the problem is, it all gets eaten up by rent anyway. You might make more, but you’ll also spend more just to exist.

Culture: The Invisible Divide

It’s hard to describe, but the cultural “feel” of the two cities is completely different. And this is where your uni experience shifts without you even noticing.

Melbourne is slower, but in the best way. It’s a city that rewards wandering. You’ll stumble into laneway cafes, watch a busker outside Flinders Street Station who’s actually pretty good, or end up at a pop-up art show because your mate dragged you along. Students spend hours sprawled on the South Lawn at Melbourne Uni, sipping coffee and arguing about politics like they’re auditioning for Q&A.

Sydney has this energy that feels almost electric. Everyone’s moving with purpose, even if they’re just heading to Woolies. The city runs on ambition. Students there are sharper, faster, and sometimes more competitive. It’s infectious; if you thrive on that hustle, you’ll find yourself running at a higher gear. But it can also be exhausting. There’s less space to just sit and breathe without feeling like you’re “falling behind.”

Melbourne students often joke that Sydney is “all show,” while Sydney students counter that Melbourne is “too smug.” There’s some truth to both. Sydney dazzles you with the harbour, the skyline, and the beaches. Melbourne wins you over slowly, with its art, food, and culture that creeps under your skin until you can’t imagine living anywhere else.

Uni Life: Two Different Worlds

Sydney’s unis feel bigger, flashier, and more hierarchical. Walk onto USyd’s sandstone campus and it feels like stepping into a movie set. It’s beautiful, but also intimidating. Societies are active and networking is everywhere. People dress sharper. There’s a quiet but noticeable divide between students who came from private schools and those who didn’t.

UNSW feels a little more “corporate” — future lawyers, engineers, consultants, all moving quickly toward their careers. It’s exciting, but it can feel transactional. My Sydney mates often mention the pressure: everyone’s already talking about grad roles in second year.

Melbourne unis, on the other hand, feel more laid back. Melbourne Uni still has its prestige, but the vibe is less cutthroat. Students sit on the grass with cheap coffee, debating ideas more than careers. RMIT has a practical, creative energy — you’ll see design students sketching on laptops next to engineering students with toolkits. Monash has its own insulated world out in Clayton, where you basically live on campus and the community becomes tight-knit.

The downside in Melbourne? Cliques form fast. Arts kids with arts kids, engineers with engineers. If you don’t make an effort to branch out, you might stay in your bubble.

The Vibe of Each City

Sydney wins hands down on natural beauty. Waking up near Coogee Beach or catching a ferry across the harbour before class feels like a movie scene. If you need water, sand, and sun to keep you sane, Sydney is unbeatable.

Melbourne, though, is built for students. It’s cheaper to get around, public transport actually works once you figure out Myki, and the city is crammed with cafes and libraries where you can study for hours without being told to move along. The weather is… chaotic, sure. Four seasons in one day isn’t a myth. But the cultural life makes up for it: free galleries, night markets, live music, and community events.

Sydney’s vibe can feel like “make it or break it.” Melbourne’s vibe feels like “find your people and grow with them.”

The Emotional Side

This is the part no one talks about when you’re 18 and just looking at glossy uni rankings. Your uni city doesn’t just shape your resume, it shapes your identity.

My Sydney friends are resilient. They’re ambitious, sharper, and quicker to grab opportunities. But they also talk about loneliness. Sydney is beautiful, but it can be isolating. Everyone’s busy. Everyone’s chasing something. If you fall behind, it feels like no one’s waiting for you.

Melbourne has given me space to breathe. It’s less about competition and more about connection. I’ve built friendships here that feel more like family. There are still moments where I wonder if I’ve missed out by not being in Sydney’s “big pond,” but I also know I’ve grown in ways I might not have if I were always running.

So, Which is Better?

The truth? Neither. It depends on who you are.

If you thrive in high energy, love beaches, and want to be surrounded by driven people who’ll push you, Sydney will shape you in ways Melbourne can’t. If you want community, culture, and the freedom to figure yourself out without constant pressure, Melbourne will feel like home.

Both cities will challenge you, both will change you. But the way they do it is different.

For me, Melbourne was the right choice. It taught me balance. It let me grow at my own pace. It gave me people who genuinely cared, not just contacts for LinkedIn. Still, when I sit by Sydney Harbour on a sunny day, I get it. I see the magic.

At the end of the day, it’s not about which city ranks higher or has prettier photos. It’s about whether you find your rhythm, your community, and a version of yourself you can be proud of. That’s what no one tells you when you’re making the decision. And maybe that’s something you only learn once you’ve lived it.

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Jun 13 2025
2 Comments
informational, Stories

Lonely in the Crowd: What no one tells your about moving abroad

There’s a photo of me walking through Lan Kwai Fong in Hong Kong on a humid summer night. Neon lights blazing. Tourists buzzing. Bass thumping from the clubs around every corner. The energy felt electric.. like life was happening at full volume.

And for a split second, I actually believed it: “This… this is what I’m meant to be doing.”

But deep down? I felt empty.

Not depressed. Not broken. Just… hollow. Like I was watching my own life from outside my body.

That’s the part no one talks about when they glamorise the expat journey, the side of ambition that comes with emotional tax. When you leave home in search of more, loneliness often sneaks in through the side door. It doesn’t always shout – sometimes it just sits with you quietly while you’re surrounded by thousands of people.

Growing Pains in Placid Places

I grew up in Melbourne, brunch capital, AFL obsession, and weather that changes its mind every five minutes. It’s familiar. Clean. Predictable. Safe. All the things a well-functioning society is supposed to be.

But in my early 20s, that comfort started feeling like a cage.

I’d walk the same streets, see the same people, have the same conversations. Day in, day out. The rhythm of life in Melbourne felt like it was designed to keep you content, not curious.

And if you’re wired to push boundaries, to explore who you are beyond your postcode, that routine becomes suffocating. Melbourne is a fantastic place to raise a family. It’s perfect in your 40s. But when you’re young, hungry, and slightly restless? It can feel like being stuck in neutral while the world outside is flying past in fifth gear.

It wasn’t hate for the place. It was frustration with what I was becoming in it.

So when an awesome overseas work opportunity came up abroad from my company, I took it with both arms and left.

The Great Escape…

Singapore. Paris. London. New York.

Say those names out loud and they sound like success. Like freedom. Like you’re living a Netflix montage of your own life.

And don’t get me wrong, some of it really is that good. Stepping off a plane with nothing but a suitcase and a plan jotted on your phone feels like you’re taking control of your own story. It’s raw, it’s uncertain, and it’s addictive.

You escape the cultural insularity of Australia – where international news comes after a segment about someone’s missing dog in Brighton. You’re no longer the smartest guy in the room. You learn. You unlearn. You get humbled.

But here’s the thing they leave out of all those “find yourself abroad” blogs:

Every new version of you comes at the cost of an older one.

You start to lose the things you didn’t realise you’d miss. The smell of your mum’s cooking. Banter with friends where nothing has to be explained. That rare ease of being understood without trying.

In a new city, you’re interesting for five minutes – after that, you’re just another foreigner trying to figure it out or a zoo animal that people stare at due to the unique physical features that aren’t widespread in their society. And that hits hard when the adrenaline of change wears off.

The Silent Tax of Ambition

When you leave home by choice, not out of crisis or war or desperation, the guilt is subtle. But it is there.

You chose this. You asked for more. So when the isolation creeps in, you don’t feel entitled to complain.

Instead, you scroll through chat groups where everyone back home is getting married, buying homes, doing baby photoshoots. You’re half a world away, working in a different corporate environment, in a new apartment, through another brutal winter.

There’s no welcome mat for you when you land. No built-in support network. You start from zero, multiple times

I got hit with Seasonal Affective Disorder hard. I’m talking pitch-black mornings, overcast afternoons, and a quiet kind of depression that makes you question your whole life plan while walking to the grocery store. I bought a 10,000-lux lamp just to trick my brain into thinking it was daytime. It helped. A bit.

But no gadget replaces the weight of being far from everyone and everything that once made you feel grounded.

So… Was It Worth It?

Yes, it definitely was. That’s not me being stubborn or rationalising my choices, when I look at my friends, and relatives back home and what they have and what they went through as the null hypothesis of having stayed in Melbourne, not a single part of me wants to be them.

Because I didn’t leave just for better job prospects or social media stories, I left to test myself.

And I got exactly what I was looking for: resistance.

I wanted to bleed a little. I wanted to prove to myself that I wasn’t just coasting. I needed to throw myself into unfamiliar places and see if I’d sink or swim.

I learned to be uncomfortable. I learned how to walk into rooms where no one looked like me, and still engage with everyone well. I learned to make friends who didn’t grow up with my language, my food, or my values. I learned how to keep my identity intact without needing to shout it.

I became anti-fragile.

It wasn’t always graceful. I struggled. I questioned myself. But I came out harder, sharper, more self-aware.

And more than anything, I stopped being a product of my environment. I started becoming a product of my decisions.

Final Thoughts: The Trade-Off

Leaving home isn’t brave. It’s not noble. It’s not some movie scene.

It’s a deal.

You trade comfort for chaos. Familiarity for freedom. Laughter for solitude. You miss family events. You become a time-zone ghost. You build bonds that fade. And you live with the ache of not fully belonging anywhere anymore.

But…

You also gain something primal. A deep, unshakeable belief in yourself. A proof of concept that you can handle it – whatever “it” is. And eventually, you stop trying to find where you belong and start carving out a space wherever you go.

You realise the world is bigger than the suburb you grew up in. You realise you can bend without breaking. And most importantly, you realise that sometimes…

being lonely in the crowd is exactly where you need to be.. to finally become who you were meant to be.

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Sep 29 2023
1 Comment
Classic, Culture, Stories, Straight talk

Everyday battles: The Battle with Dick


A classic post by LaidNYC:

I’m hanging out on my couch with Dick when my phone buzzes with a new text message.

“Hey I’m gonna be in the city on the 27th are you free for a drink?”

Cheryl.  I met her at a bar near Penn Station playing darts, took her home that night for a pleasure pumping and now she tells me whenever she’s in the city on business so we can hook up.  She has the best natural breasts that I’ve personally felt and she has a certain enthusiasm between the sheets since I’m her secret New York City bang.  It’s good to be the king.

Dick perks up.  Only there’s a problem, I tell him.  This time I have a girlfriend.

Problem, asks Dick, what problem?  You can cheat.

Yeah.  I could.  I could cheat.

Dick spurs me on, Yeah, the 27th is perfect.  It’s a Thursday.  Tell her you’re gonna go out with Mike drinking. She’ll go to her parents house for the night like she always does when you’re out with your friends.  No problem.

Of course I can avoid getting caught.  I’m not an idiot.  It’s not about that.

Dick is confused.  He softens a bit at the lack of shared enthusiasm. Then….what?  This is free pussy.  What you feel guilty or something?

No. Remember that episode of Jerry Springer we watched where the guy named Jameer cheated on his whole-lotta-woman girlfriend Darhonda. We laughed for two minutes straight when she managed to get a good slap in.  What a dumbass he was.

Yeah, that was hilarious.  So what?

Well if I do this I am no better than Jameer.  Sure, neither of MY girls are fat, but the principle is the same:  If I cheat I will be low class trashy scum.

You have a job and wear a belt you’re already above that class.  Besides, the president of France cheated.  Bill Clinton cheated.  You think those guys are lower class than you?

You know what I mean.

Do I?

Alright think about this.  Let’s say she does find out somehow.  She might leave.  I like her.  I’d rather it not end this way.

You know you’d play it right so she wouldn’t leave you. She’d be MORE attracted to you.  Its simple preselection and dread game.  Haven’t you learned anything?

So I’ll just vaguely flirt with a girl at the next party we go to.  I don’t need to actually fuck someone else to have preselection for fucks sake.  Integrity, Dick.  Men have integrity.  When I expect loyalty, I give it.

Fuck that, it is a capital felony when women cheat.  When men cheat, it is a misdemeanor, like pissing in an alleyway.  You know this.  They know this.  Besides, girls are sluts.  How long have you been dating her, six months?  You haven’t even hacked her email yet.  What if shes cheating on you?

If she ends up being a cheating slut, I’ll cross that bridge when I get there, but this is about me.  It’s about who I want to be.  I’m not a cheater.  Being a player is fine, at least you’re not lying to anybody.  I can always go back to that life.  But being a cheater is something else.  Besides, she’s at least a full point prettier than Cheryl.

Yeah, but her tits aren’t as nice.  And her blowjobs aren’t as good.

Yeah, well she hasn’t had as much practice as Cheryl.  I’m only the second guy she’s slept with.

So she says.

Yeah… so she says.

Dick knows he has hit a nerve.  He squints at me, still excited.  He keeps talking about Cheryl’s immaculate rack and how the girlfriend will never know.  I may have to choke him to get him to shut up.

My phone buzzes again, this time with a new GChat from my girlfriend: “I miss you more than usual today”.
I swipe back to my texts.  I delete Cheryl’s text and phone number hurriedly before I change my mind.  Dick has been defeated.  This time.
Jun 06 2021
1 Comment
Stories

A home worth wrecking

When I moved to a new city a while ago, I messaged this girl who I knew also lived there.

She was just a girl I knew through some people and had met at a few parties. She is a very cute chick who was into partying, so ever the long-term thinker, I decided I should try to friendzone her and go to venues with her just for the good banter. Hot chicks are like currency in the night life scene.

Anyways, she made lots of promises to meet up, but kept flaking. No big deal as I wasn’t trying to bang her anyway.

Sometime later I sent her a message

“Hey you should come to X tomorrow. It’s my girlfriend’s birthday”

Like a nuclear bomb set off, she suddenly seemed super interested.

OMG you have a girlfriend?!?

Shows up to the party dressed like her life depended on looking hot. Starts getting flirty, physical and says the dirtiest things to my ear. Invites me out the next day to “catch up”.

Alright, of course I didn’t slam her out of principal, I actually was with someone.

In hindsight, a tactical error to invite her out in the first place.

I could say preselection works. I could also say women are hardwired to be homewreckers. Choose your own lesson.

Dec 13 2020
6 Comments
informational, Stories

Two Fortunes

Catherine

Catherine inherits a large fortune when she turns 17.

She happily starts spending it on things that please her: a new car, designer clothes, Christian

Louboutin shoes, nights out with her friends, lavish parties, and exciting vacations across the world. She wants to start her own company eventually, but for now she enjoys not working and living life like a movie star. When Catherine hits her mid-twenties, she notices her fortune is close to half what it once was when she inherited it. It is still plenty, but she realizes it won’t last forever and she should start investing some of it.

She takes meetings from many companies who are salivating for her money. Many pitchmen and executives’ wine and dine her and make her promises about what her return on investment will be.

She picks an exciting company – a high risk, high reward venture. She dreams of recovering all the riches she once had and then some. Unfortunately, the company fails. It seems the pitchman may have lied to her, and frauded other investors as well.

Seeing more of her fortune dwindle, Catherine picks another high risk/high reward company to try to gain it back. When it fails, she tries another.

When Catherine crosses her thirtieth birthday, her fortune is about 1/9th what it once was when she inherited it.

Catherine realizes now she needs some guaranteed return. With her now rather small sum to invest, no executives are wining and dining her or competing for her money. She picks a stable, blue chip company to put her money in. To the company, her investment is modest and fairly replaceable.

Catherine has always dreamed of starting a small company of her own, but her financial advisor tells her she will probably have to take out a loan to do it.

This makes her very sad.

She tries to start a company, but she can’t and an angel investor to help it flourish, and it fails.

She withdraws money from her stable investment to live on throughout her late thirties and forties, occasionally hoping for a visit from an enthusiastic start-up who can turn her modest money into the large fortune she once had, but that visit never comes.

Shortly after she turns fifty, Catherine’s money is nearly gone, and she has to start working.

Monica

Monica inherits a large fortune when she turns 17.

She holds it for a few years, putting it in an account and being very choosy about how to spend it. After some time, she realizes that inflation and expenses are slowing eating away at her money, so she decides to invest.

Many executives and pitchmen are willing to wine and dine her for her money. She sees through the flashy salesman offering risky propositions and promising high returns. She chooses a stable company with a good reputation: Blue Chip, Inc.

The dividends are immediate: Modest but steady.

Being such a large investor, Blue Chip, Inc treats her like gold. Her money helps them enthusiastically expand operations and bring in new revenue streams.

Occasionally a slick talking salesman comes around promising her billions for a small investment but she rebuts them quickly, seeing a great future with Blue Chip, Inc.

In her twenties with the steady dividends coming in, Monica decides to start her own small companies – 4 in all. Since she is such a profitable, trustworthy and loyal business partner, Blue Chip, Inc is happy to invest in Monica’s companies and offer business and legal expertise to help them thrive.

Her thirties are a happy time as she runs her four companies, bringing them towards profitability. It is tough but satisfying.

In her late forties and fifties, her small companies all grow profitable and strong enough to support offshoot companies of their own. She has some stock in these companies as well. Being a trusted partner for so long, Blue Chip, Inc invests as well.

Monica has grown rich beyond her wildest dreams. She lives off the large dividends she still gets from Blue Chip, Inc and reinvests the rest in her companies.

She will never have to work again.

Oct 15 2020
4 Comments
Classic, informational, Stories

Resist

Hey I can only stay for a minute. (He talks to her the rest of the night)

“…that is why things would never work out between us” (Then he takes her phone number)

“We should stop” “Yeah, we should” (he keeps going)

You can come in but only for a minute (She sleeps over)

Hands off, this shit ain’t free (He touches her 30 seconds later)


It is like a hack or a cheat code to seduction: You can physically and logistically escalate as long as you verbally deny it. Its to the point where I’m convinced you really could do one thing whilst saying you’re doing another and both parties are fine with it. Some whatt like discovering a flaw in a video game that lets you beat it every time.


If I could sum up the concept it is this: be the resistor (verbally), be the escalator (physically). Fundamentally speaking, this works because the one who wants the other less is in power. So being the resistor is a power play.

The catch? Girls know this and do it, and they do it better than men.

Do you always talk to girls on the street?

Nothing’s going to happen, I’m a good girl.

We’re not going to have sex tonight.


Most guys don’t get that girls are grabbing the power with these statements so they switch into chase mode like a pussy-begging dullard, leaking more and more control over the interaction until the girl’s legs snap violently shut like a bear trap.


Don’t do that.

Instead, you retake the control. Re-establish yourself as the resistor. When she steps back, you step back a little further. Every time she sets a boundary, you reset one in a different place.
Every time she draws a line in the sand, you redraw one on your terms.

Her: I don’t kiss on the first date

You: Good, I don’t kiss before marriage

Her: We’re not having sex tonight

You: Relax, are you always thinking about sex?

Her: Let’s just be friends.

You: Nah I don’t see you as a friend. We shouldn’t hang out anymore.

Feb 29 2020
3 Comments
Stories, Straight talk

The Misfit

It was February, I just got back from a 3 week vacation from the snow and settling back into the routine of life back in my adopted home city.

And then it happened, maybe due to boredom, maybe due to a desire to explore.

I met a skank with a unique haircut and dress sense, tatted up and fit, and a total misfit in this homogeneous society I was living in. I didn’t think much of it, initially brushing off her calls to catch up. But in the end I thought it would maybe be interesting.

I would never want to be seen with her in public but the exploration in private was intriguing.

A third cultured up-bringing over three countries, deviation of family expectations and simply ending up with in the wrong crowd at the wrong time left her in this state. But to me that didn’t really matter, her life was funded through previous generations and she simply lived it as she wanted.

The trysts were random, infrequent but intense and it was a nice get away from reality where perhaps I was sometimes overwhelmed with stress. The chill, casual nature of it was a perk as I’d bumped into her once at a shopping centre with the company of another companion and it wasn’t an awkward greeting at all. I guess when people can’t fathom the combination of two polar opposites it’s hard to really feel suspicious.

In the end, I had bigger issues to deal with and “forgot” to reply to too often for it to continue and I wasn’t one bit worried or fussed, but then the other day, I see her at an airport somewhere totally random and we exchange smiles and continue walking in our intended directions.

Feb 01 2020
2 Comments
Stories

Bitter Bangs

Have you banged a girl and despised her so much that you simply hate fucked her the whole time?

I think it’s happened to me a lot more in Melbourne than anywhere else in the world. The amount of bitter feminist skanks that spread their legs open and take me raw despite having opposing views or beliefs to me is something that points me to the direction of irrationality in women. You can always take this to your benefit.

You simply cannot negotiate desire. 

That’s the truth of it all: turn them on, bang them out.

In other parts of the world there might be elements of romance, some alignment of views, and a respect that forms, although it may only be for a whim, there’s a common ground of care that precedes the fornication.

But in feminist nations, it’s rarely the case for me these days.

I was visiting a friend in another country recently and the same thing happened. A girl I met, nothing in common besides that fact that she’s DTF and I’m giving it out. Talking shit, going through the motions she drops hints about her feminist values, these annoy me on the inside but I let them slide, eventually this goes on where I realise, god, this girl is a mess and annoying, so since it was almost time to pull, I told myself..

“Ok, just go through with this and regret it after”

So I ploughed through, took her back and slammed.

It wasn’t bad on a physical level but then after I emptied my load, all I could think about was which Tube stop to take, how to walk there, when will I make it to meet up with a friend later.

I simply couldn’t force myself to stay there any longer. The lack of attraction besides purely physical just became more and more evident. I think she got the hint and asked if I was in a hurry to which I said…

“Yeah, sadly – wish I could stay a bit longer”

It was all a smoke-screen of the reality, sometimes you need to just say these things these days, especially in the post #MeToo era where there’s no telling what could really happen when a girl changes her mind about you.

I finished up, hopped on the tube then met up with a friend who I hadn’t seen in over 4 years. We both discussed our views on girls from the city, he was spending most of his time in other parts of Europe and told me he was over the local scene. I guess that’s what being in a place for a few years can do to you.

Oct 21 2019
2 Comments
Stories, Straight talk

Memories

Don’t ever tell anybody anything. If you do, you start missing everybody.

How true that is.

I was sitting by the park bench enjoying a late summer vacation somewhere warm, and I was talking to a local about some of the adventures, some of the mishaps and battles I had overcome in the last few years, and his response?

“Your life sure is interesting”

That’s when I thought back, opened up my Google Photos and reminisced about some of the times and for a second, I really missed them. It’s impossible to go back and re-experience exactly what you went through at that point in time, but the memory brought a smile to my face.

Other than that I went to some places that were really off the beaten path and got a taste of truly isolating myself from the world for a few days. It was relaxing, but also reaffirmed how much some amenities and luxuries are hard to go without even for a short period of time.

I bumped into some friends in a few big cities and caught up on their endeavours and projects – things were all pretty good, and have some pretty cool ideas coming up for the new year in terms of travel spots.

Aug 10 2019
1 Comment
Informational, Stories, Straight talk

The “caste” system

Many know the caste system that relates to India, such as what is described below:

The caste system in India is the paradigmatic ethnographic example of caste. It has origins in ancient India, and was transformed by various ruling elites in medieval, early-modern, and modern India, especially the Mughal Empire and the British Raj. It is today the basis of educational and job reservations in India. The caste system consists of two different concepts, varna and jati, which may be regarded as different levels of analysis of this system. Vaidyanathan argues that the caste system existed at the village level to serve the needs of its people, however, the method in which the 1881 census was carried out in India by the British Raj institutionalized the caste system on a much larger national scale.

But this same concept seems to apply in so many areas of our lives. Well not so closely but to a degree.

There’s just so many “tiers” in people these days.

Top tier people whom you aspire to have around whilst feeling comfortable and proud to have as companions or partners.

Mid-tier people that are doing ok, and you respect but are at a level you think is one that isn’t achieving their maximum potential.

Bottom-tier people that lack the ability or are just inherently lazy that you cannot bring yourself to respect them.

Weather its professionally or in social contexts, I notice how closely people judge, despite the agenda these days to “not judge”, the opposite occurs subconsciously.

As an expat, you’ll come across different tiers of fellow foreigners in every city you visit. Some cities will skew towards bottom and mid-tier expats, whilst others will have more of the top-tier individuals. This depends a lot on your field, and the location also.

In competitive cities, which university you go to, what you do, what field you’re in, what you earn and most importantly your personality, will all come into play when it comes to so many areas of your life. Weather its meeting new people, job interviews, dating or general respect amongst the community.

A recent example is of a lower tier individual I met through some friends on a night out a couple years ago. This guy was basically hitting 30, smoked weed non-stop through his early 20s, finally graduated school at 27, was a total loser back home working in retail and now was doing some customer service gig abroad which was the pinnacle for him. He was banging foreigner chaser sluts in our city that were considered the lowest rung of girls available and barely a step up from jerking off (assuming you didn’t cop an STD in the process of banging).

But for him, this was heaven. Coming from a total dump of a city, being a basement dweller with no motivation – being in a foreign country with low hanging fruit as women and a somewhat stable income (Albeit zero progression or respect) was great. There was no sense of achievement, nor a sense of development that drove him to excel in any task, it was merely just putting in the bare minimum, grinding to the weekend then boozing, weeding, gaming until Monday. It was sad, and I knew I simply can’t get along with scrubs such as these.

And nor should anyone. As they say “You are the average of the five people you spend the most time with”.

Cut the filth, keep the quality. Aim high as you can, dare to dream.

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