So, I’m really sorry that if you speak to me on any kind of regular basis you will have already heard everything that is contained within this publication said out loud, probably, maybe, much less articulately and much more vaguely.
I have noticed a lot of times people will pretend to agree with me when what I have just said does not actually make any sense. I’m sure you have done it. I am sorry I am one of those people you have to do that for. Thanks for asking for my zine, and pretending like you’re interested in it enough to ask for one, I am thoroughly flattered.
Low expectations are the key to never being disappointed.
HERE WE GO AGAIN AGAIN AGAIN AGAIN AND AGAIN
So it’s Uni holidays (all six weeks of them thanks to the lack of exams involved in doing a degree in something like Journalism where you don’t actually learn anything of substance so they can’t test you on anything in an exam) and consequently my life has dissipated into a routine of sleeping, working, wasting money on purchases of food and beverages with friends for entertainment value, and wasting time on things like MySpace and Facebook.
The internet has become my general resort to not actually wanting to talk to anyone or do anything but still attain the vague feeling that I am participating in some sort of socially acceptable and constructive activity. This is of course a lie, or rather, an illusion, as spending any amount of time filling out a MySpace quiz is useful to no one but the person filling out the questionnaire who is vain enough to believe that their answers to questions like “What is your favorite color?” will be important to their 355 friends who are bombarded by their bulletins. Really, I, personally, acknowledge that very few people at all would bother to read a quiz but I enjoy the pure self-absorbed narcissism of filling them out more than I like admit. I wish a person in real life would be interested enough in the mundane details of my life to ask me all those questions.
Being on Uni holidays is such a weird feeling, it’s having gone from being flat out (mostly as a result of doing nothing right until the last week when everything was due) to having absolutely no work to do at all. I certainly spent a large amount of time “surfing” the internet during semester that I put into the ‘procrastination’ category of excuses for how I spent my time. But now, with the absence of looming assignments I find myself spending, still, an equal or greater amount of time on stupid things like Myspace and Facebook. They are an endless source of entertainment for me and I can not fully explain to you why. I think it is because they are a form of method of how to categorize your own and all of your friends’ lives on a single web page. In recent weeks you have no idea the amount of times I’ve discovered huge pieces of news (gossip) through Facebook.
You can make it whatever you want and choose entirely how you want to represent yourself to the world. Choose a list of movies, music, ‘general interests’ that you think best describes you and best reflects you the way (puts you into the box) that you want people to see you and think of you. Un-tag the bad photos and upload good ones of you doing your favorite, cool, exciting things with your exciting cool friends. I want to know what people think when they look at my profile, and if it is what I think they think or what I want them to think. I think it is unfortunate to be one of those people who spend a really long time looking good on the internet, only to be a total let down in real life. Do you think our children will look at the comment history from our MySpaces when they are our age? Imagine being able to see such an intricate overview of your parents’ social lives. It is a little bit creepy. I know nothing about my parents really, I don’t think they even really totally remember, it was too long ago but I kind of like it that way because of the wondrous possibilities.
The best thing (actually the two best things - I thought of another one) about the internet is/are: and I don’t know if I should say this in a public context because anyone who does not know me and understand me and that I am not a crazy lunatic weirdo may, shortly after this statement, feel inclined to believe that I am – stalking people. You know, there are just some people on the internet (usually people overseas, in a band or friends of friends or if you’re really lucky they’re your friends on myspace/Facebook but they’re really your friend’s friend but you requested their friendship on the internet and they accepted) who are the coolest people ever and they fit all of your criteria for an ideal lover partner or are an embodiment of what you would aspire to become if you could be the prettiest pinnacle of coolness. You will never know them properly (because they are so cool you can’t talk to them, but it’s really exciting if they smile at you when you see them out one night) in real life so they can never diminish their cool enigmatic internet existence and you can maintain the notion that ideals do exist somewhere in the world – they are just unattainable. The worst is when one that you don’t really know well enough to be internet friends with sets their profile to private and you can’t look at their pictures anymore.
The other best thing is that it, for me anyway, is a documentation of my life that even if my computer breaks or I lose my diary or my phone will always still be there if I want to see it. It indirectly outlines my friendships, activities, conversations and interests from 2005 till now. I find that reassuring as I seem to have an endless value for hoarding, and being nostalgic and trying not to forget anything that has ever happened. I have realized again and again that I look back on everything as being much better than I felt it was at the time. I feel that my life has maintained a fairly unchanging level of complacency/discontentment, there has been no day that I recall actually going to sleep and thinking ‘wow everything is perfect’ but when I do look back on things I tend very often to be like ‘wow everything was so much more perfect then’ but really it’s just all the same. Anyway, the internet means that if for some reason I want to remember something about some time I can. Generally reading things that I have written on other people’s walls in the past, or seeing clothes that I wore even a year ago, makes me feel kind of ill and want to cover my face and crawl into a hole and never do or say anything ever again.
CITY CITY TOWN TOWN CITY CITY TOWN TOWN CITY
So, it’s like the cool thing to do, when you’re 18 (or better still 17) to go OUT. What even is going “out”? What is the difference between going out of the house normally and going “out”? Is it the night time or the consumption of expensive sugary alcohol or the presence of loud music you don’t recognize and never want to hear again or the human beings around you who either make you feel terrible with their exclusive coolness or the shame their disgustingness puts upon humanity? Getting ready to go out is so much more fun than actually going out, like putting on shiney stockings and wearing more makeup than going to work or Uni would consider appropriate. Sometimes I just wish I could get that far and then sit next to the heater for the rest of the night and listen to music I actually like. I’d probably have just as much fun. Sleep has become the best thing since I started high school. Before then it was the worst thing, the dreaded avoided thing that you were the best if you could do the least, how the times have changed. I decide whether things are worthwhile and fun on a basis of comparison with sleep. Seriously.
If you have not consumed a reasonable amount of alcohol ‘town’ is the worst place, unquestionably, that you could ever ever dream of being. People are so disgusting. It’s like their normal disgustingness exaggerated by 100 x through their excessive alcohol consumption. I walk past Enigma bar and every time without fail wonder something like “How do these people actually exist? They are too old to be on Youth Allowance and too dumb to be studying but I don’t even think McDonalds would employ them. And you’ve never really seen a punk/emo/washed-up-rock star cleaner have you?!” Where do they go during the day time? What do they do with their lives? How can they possibly live with their skid row sleeves and flesh holes and multiple piercing? How do they afford to buy enough alcohol to maintain their addiction? I can not figure it out. Someone please enlighten me. The only good thing about town-not-drunk is that you can be reassured that you are unquestionably better, more socially respectable, and less disgusting, than most of the people in the room. It disturbs me though, that on a night in ‘town’ where you’ve drunk enough to not notice how horrible the couple making out next to you are, it means that you are one of those people that slip into the category of being ‘stupid drunk and disgusting’. I don’t know which is worse.
GROWN UP GROW UP GROW UP GROW UP GROW UP
So, apparently now I’m a real true fully grown adult. I don’t want to believe this, I find it hard to believe and I think quite a few of my friends might find this even more difficult to believe but nonetheless it remains the unfortunate truth.
I have noticed that in all movies and TV shows that the main characters always don’t seem to have any friends. Take the OC for example. There’s Seth and Summer and Marissa and Ryan and you have say, one or two add on characters every couple of episodes like Anna and other miscellaneous boyfriends/girlfriends but really, for the duration of those three years of their lives they are each other’s only friends. They don’t seem to have any acquaintances ever. They go on all these trips places, go out but never seem to meet anyone except randoms. I don’t understand it. Like yeah yeah yeah I know that as far as story line it’s too hard to bring in all random and unimportant characters but how come there is not a single TV show or movie in existence (that I have ever seen feel free to correct my if I am wrong) where they have as many kind-of-but-not-bestest-friends as I think everyone has in real life. Like where are their 300 Facebook friends in real life?? I just really don’t get it. Like everyone I know seems to have all these three or four groups of friends that they fluctuate between and the only people who don’t have those kinds of groups to escape into are the people that I regard as being ‘no-friend’ people BUT they are exactly the same as Ryan and blah on the OC and every other TV show so the media world really just doesn’t make any sense at all. If they were in real life they would be losers because they had no friends. TV is stupid and unrealistic. I want to see at TV show where nothing really happens for 6 months and the characters entertain themselves with other distant characters’ gossip, because that is what happens in real life.
Back to the adult thing, I think that with the end of high school comes a great change in the function and purpose of friendships. It is a strange feeling to have gone from seeing 100 or so people (whose names and other vague details at the very least you knew) every day to seeing maybe 5 or so of them once every month and having very little in common with them. I recently had a high school friend catch up sleep over thing with my friends from school, like 6 of them anyway. It was weird. None of us had really ‘changed’ as such but school was our common ground and now we had kind of run out of exciting things to talk about to eachother. Like not in a way that it was awkward but other years when we were still at school it’d get to 11 at night and we’d enter into these long conversations about who eachother liked and what was happening with all the other people at school but those kind of conversations required some kind of prompting for the release of privileged information (as in you have to be like ‘Jo, do you have a crush on Johnny? I’ve seen you guys talking, I saw you slap his knee and laugh at his un-funny jokes’) but it was impossible because we were so removed from each other’s lives that we had no idea what was going on at all, nor did we know any of the other people that the others were talking about anyway even if they did admit to liking someone, making the news much less entertaining. The best things we could come up with were things like ‘Guess whose gotten fat.” Or “guess who got the worst hair cut ever”. It’s weird, even being able to say those kinds of things out loud or being like “yeah, I went to high school with him.” AAH. I feel like I’m like 20, and I almost am. It is terrifying.
I went to open evening with one of my ‘friends from high school’ and something very disturbing, adding to my feeling of being a ‘grown up’ happened. TEACHERS HUGGED ME. That was not ok. It was never ok. It is not ok now. But apparently and legally, it is. It’s creepy. And talking to them, we’re supposed to call Miss Morey Melinda and Mr. Marzahn Kevin, I’m sorry but I just can not do it. The way they talk to you, even, is completely changed. It’s like as soon as you walked out the doors at the end of exams you became an equal to them rather than a delinquent. It scares me and I find it impossible to accept, teachers are not friends! They are teachers! But they immediately talked to us and treated us as friends rather than students. Just the way they spoke, laughed at our jokes – actually I think that may have been the main difference because they definitely never did that in school they’d just tell us to be quite (we don’t say things like shut up at temple) and sit down.
And now back to the friend-TV thing - I was watching Seinfeld and there’s this guy who wants to be friends with Jerry. Maybe it was the Pool Guy? I can’t remember, anyway it is irrelevant. He was a total weirdo, although I’m sure he was a nice enough person on the inside [being nice doesn’t get you ANYWHERE but it’s nice to be nice]. Jerry ends up saying something along the lines of “We can’t be friends! I only have room for 3 friends! I’m sorry!” This is possibly the most accurate thing, in relation to my own life, that has ever been said on television. I am a strong believer that you only have time for what you choose to make time for; however there are only so many things that you have time to make time for. It is impossible to be good friends with more than three people. And I mean good proper friends who know what eachother are doing most of the time and you feel ok to tell a reasonable majority of the things you don’t tell everyone to type-friends. If you want to have more than three then you wont be that good friends with them because there just isn’t that much time or energy for the effort that is required. This is possibly an explanation of why TV shows’ characters always have minimal friends, and I’d never realized this until after I finished school but I think it is quite rapidly what my life is transforming into. It had previously seemed quite important to me to maintain a plethora of good-friend friend options, but now it seems like an unnecessary impossibility. I think its normal (hope) and it’s just a part of growing up but I don’t like that it’s happening because it means that I am growing up!
I think the reason that friends need to be limited to such a small number, also, is that everybody else in the world is stupid. There’s such a massive number of people that you could be friends with if you could be bothered with the useless effort except the only benefit would be their friendship which is effectively a waste of your time and there fore there are no benefits, except perhaps the potential benefit of being able to complain about how stupid they are to your real non-stupid three friends. Everyone is stupid, or at any rate, there are very few people in the world, that you will meet, who will be even close to being on the same wave length as you are. Most people, I have decided, are stupid, they don’t make sense, or they’re boring, or ugly, or do retarded things, or they’re not funny and hence are not worth a minute of my time. I don’t actually understand how some people manage to exist in the world, or why? Why would you become a cleaner? Or work at McDonalds, when you were 40? Like how? And why do fat people wear leggings and tight t-shirts and keep eating caramel slice? Why is Today Tonight a popular enough show for them to keep it on prime time TV? Because: Everyone (almost everyone except your 3 friends and the cool people you stalk on Facebook) is stupid. The chances of finding people who aren’t stupid who you can actually hang out with are about 1 in 100, hence you know say 300 people, and have 3 good friends.
I also think that there is a strong possibility that the reason my group of friends is so socially retarded is that they’re all Christians, (or have grown up Christians anyway) and hence feel obligated to befriend everyone that they talk to. It seems to be some kind of aim and necessity of being in a Christian network to like and know the intimate details of all the issues in everyone else’s lives (so that you can “help” them with these issues of course) but the fact of life is that you’re not supposed to get along with everyone because we’re too different. Being “bad” or “stupid” or “boring” is all just a matter of opinion anyway. So the reason TV shows don’t match up with my life is because their main characters never go to Edge church. They should totally make a TV show about Christians though; I think you’d be surprised by the amount of ridiculous drama, especially if they based it on real life. And normally, I have realized through observation of my non-brought-up-Christian-friends, people have 3 or 4 central friends who they remain good friends with for their entire lives and there are other random acquaintances (like actually random, they seem quite willing to be friends with anyone anywhere), especially boyfriends, who they will go out with and spend all their time with and then break up with and never see again, and find a new boyfriend and do the same thing with (like on Seinfeld!). Because they only have the three important friends, they have the time to spend a lot of time with their boyfriend and still have time with their friends. The difference in Christian circles is that people will go out, break up and then still see eachother because all their friends are so intertwined and then they’ll end up going out with the person’s best friend and that person will end up going out with their best friend, or making out with them, or something and it never ends, you can’t escape from it because of the endless obligation to ‘remain friends’ and the fact that all your friends are friends with your ‘ex’ (who is likely to also be their ex too).
The other thing that has changed, in quite a similar fashion, is the music I enjoy. I used to like about 50 million bands and listen to a new band and downloaded about 10 new CD’s (at a minimum) every week. It was like this big competition to find the newest coolest band before everyone else did and then put it onto a mix CD and show it to your friends and if you were the first person to like the cool band first you were the coolest. Finding a new band that was good was like being the first man ever to walk on the moon, you know? I don’t do that anymore. I don’t have conversations with people about what my favorite bands are anymore, or ‘have you heard of this band? Here’s a link to their myspace.’ I just don’t take interest in it anymore, I don’t have the attention span for it and I like listening to music I already know I like.
I also realized that all the ‘local bands’ in Adelaide didn’t get bad. They were always bad. I was just stupid so I thought they were good at the time. It’s about the people more than the music (to some degree) or about the fun or something, anyway, its not fun anymore but I’m sure there’s a massive bunch of 14 yr olds out there having the time of their life with a different version of the same music as I used to appreciate who will, in a few years, experience exactly the same sequence of events.
I haven’t found a CD in the last 6 months that I have felt inclined to listen to on repeat for 2 weeks and know all the words of and be obsessed with like I used to do all the time either. I don’t feel the same passion I used to feel when I listened to Dashboard Confessional. The only album I have not entirely grown tired of listening to on repeat is Ben Folds – Rockin’ the Suburbs. Are Ben Folds, Death Cab and Something for Kate the music I am going to like for the rest of my life? Will they be the bands I try to explain how-good-they-are to my hip children? Have I reached the point where my music taste as defined and refined itself and it will stop changing? Will I grow old like so many old people and just loose interest in listening to music altogether? Is that what’s happening? I hope it’s not. I started writing for DB but I realized that it is quite an impossible task for me to complete because my response to every CD they give me is more or less the same: “this CD is ok it is better than anything I could ever create on my own however I will not ever choose to listen to it again of my own accord with out purpose such as writing this review. There was nothing particularly disgraceful about it but nothing that made me ever want to listen to it again when I could listen to music I actually like… but give it a go, you’re probably an idiot so you’ll probably love it.” I want to find a CD that takes over my life again. I don’t think it’s ever going to happen though, because I’m OLD.
Having said that, I did download the album Reality Check by The Teenagers recently and listened to it on repeat for about 3 days, and very much enjoyed those three days. It’s one of those CD’s whose lyrics are so crude that you hope no one on the bus, no old people or parents especially, will hear you listening to it, but they’re so entertaining and funny and musically appreciable that you can’t help but enjoy it. The guy has the best accent. However, I have now reached the pivotal point where I know all the songs on the CD and if I keep listening to it it means that it’ll be added to a more permanent list of music I actually like, but I just don’t think I can do that. I don’t like them that much. I’ve already stopped listening to that album, I like it but I’d still rather listen to Ben Folds.
HI MY NAME IS MARY, WILL YOU PLEASE STALK ME?
So, I have this theory, that Starbucks and Uni are systematically depreciating my intelligence whilst maintaining the illusion that they are helping me achieve my life goals. I think it is quite accurate. Or maybe they’re just making me believe that things that I internally know are not in anyway important to me (e.g. the news, or Starbucks sales for the day) are of the highest importance. I re-read the last thing I wrote about Starbucks and involuntarily wanted to correct all the nasty things I’d said about Starbucks. That’s what a month of working there full time (ish) on holidays gets you I suppose. It is unarguably overpriced, but some people have too much money for their own good! I won’t go any further, except to say that my opinion (possibly by brainwashing that occurs on-shift) of Starbucks has been significantly improved over time. And working there so much lately has made it my primary topic of conversation and interesting facts which must be quite unfortunate for my friends who have to act interested. Some interesting things do happen. Most of them involve me dropping things on customers, or burning my hands on grills, or giving everyone decaf by accident. The most dramatic and entertaining things that happened this week have occurred at work, that bothers me a little bit; a lot.
This guy came in and I did my “Hi, I’m making trash conversation with you because it’s my job , how was you day been?” thing. And he was like “Good, I’ve been book shopping.” And I was like “Oh really? Wow. Boat shopping. That must be fun, why do you want a boat?” And he was like “No, BOOK shopping.” And I was like “Ha oh I thought you said BOAT. Oops. Oh cool books; that’s better than boats, I’m heaps jealous. I wish I was book shopping. Well have a good day, good luck. Your drink will be down the end.”
So that was fine, you know; whatever. On a side note, do you know how hard it is to make conversation with people when no one ever has anything interesting to say? And people always tell me things they think are interesting but I seriously have nothing to say back because it’s boring (or sometimes I don’t know what they’re talking about) so I just smile and make interested noises. Anyway, the guy came back like an hour later and gave me A BOOK. In a borders bag. I was like what? Huh? What? Oh um ha ok. [and, side note, the other day this lady I’ve never met gave me a hundred dollars. Seriously what is going on? Nothing makes any sense.] Who gives you a book? Why me? Seriously I am actually a weirdo magnet. You know the weird people you see walking down the mall talking to them selves? They are the people who feel inclined to think that it would be ok to talk to ME at the bus stop. It’s always me. I’ve never even seen it happen to anyone else. I blame my mother. And it’s always the feral creepy disgusting guys who are out that try to dance with me. I hate my life. Anyway that was all very entertaining and everything. Then I got on the bus on the way home and opened the book to the first page [he left a note in it saying like ‘here’s a book for you!’ but it didn’t have his phone number on it or anything, I was quite impressed] and it was like,
“Jen and Jo were standing at the gate. It was Miss QUIGLEY’S gate. They yelled out QUIGLEY QUIGLEY QUIGLEY QUIGLEY”
I actually laughed out loud (a freaked out laugh at that) when I saw it. I’ve never seen my name in print in my life. Was it a coincidence or is he a stalker. Either way I’m creeped out. How could he possibly know my last name, I’m pretty sure he couldn’t even know my first name, we don’t wear name tags so that the customers can ask out names and we can ‘connect’ with them better.
But it obviously wasn’t a direct ploy to hit on me because he didn’t put his phone number on the note, or even his full name, or any “xoxoxo” or anything like that. The only possibilities are that he is a: a weirdo with no ulterior motivations (I don’t think such people really exist, no one does anything nice without hoping for some kind of consequential even, I have learnt this through naïve experiences. Call me jaded if you will; I call it realistic.) Or option b: the book is the first part of a massive drawn out plan to stalk me. So he’s trying to make it look like it’s not part of a ploy and he really just wants to share his love of literature with the stupid girl who works at Starbucks, but really he’s going to keep back in and talking about the book and his plan is that this all will eventually lead to sex. Wow. Lucky me.
MELBOURNE WILL SOLVE ALL OF YOUR PROBLEMS
So, I totally hate people who move away or talk about traveling because they ‘hate Adelaide’. I’m sorry. You don’t hate Adelaide. You hate yourself. Moving to stupid Melbourne will not make you a cooler person (the people in Adelaide may be deluded to think that you are, but it does not change the fact that essentially you remain exactly the same uncool Adelaidian except now in a foreign town with less friends and less social connections) and it will not solve all of your problems because you are the problem. And you will still be you in Melbourne or in stupid England and people will still be jerks wherever you go. You can go from having stupid friends to no friends. Heaps good idea. Totally.
Adelaide really isn’t that bad. Sure Melbourne has more places to go ‘out’ but that means that there’s a lot more stupid drunk people when you’re not drunk and a lot more stupid people in general. I think that if I didn’t live in Adelaide I’d want to live in Adelaide because it’s little and arty and there are bands and it’s nice. Everyone knows everyone else which makes it more entertaining. You won’t get lost because the streets make sense and don’t have numbers for names. The Suburbs are very straight forward – just don’t go north or south and everything will be ok. We have The Giant Rocking Horse, what’s Victoria got? The Giant Koala? pfft. And Adelaide is full of terrible artworks like that stuff where all the little emo teenagers hang out like giant fish bones and beach balls, behind the mall. It’s the ugliest waste of money I’ve ever seen, but I bet you’d never find it anywhere else.
If you go and live in Melbourne you will realize that changing your location will not change your personality and your dream of this ultimate solution solving all your problems will be shattered because your life in Melbourne will suck just as much as it did in Adelaide.
Don’t get me wrong, I went to Melbourne and I loved it and I would love, in theory, to move there, but I never will because it’d be a completely pointless, money wasting endeavor. If you have to move there for work or Uni then I think that’s fine, but to move there because you think it will be ‘cool’ is naïve. I hate people that talk about moving away. If you wanted to do it, really really wanted to, you wouldn’t enjoy talking about it so much; you’d actually organize it instead.
JEANS JEANS GET A DECENT PAIR AND A NEW PESONALITY
So, before I say anything, I would like to point out that I fully acknowledge that my jeans are not the best, they are not the ideal, I have had them for more than a year and I have recently committed to not buying any more clothes in an attempt to save money so it is a problem I can not rectify. Please do not judge me by my jeans without the afore mentioned knowledge.
I think jeans (and clothes in general) say a lot about someone’s personality and their quality in taste of things in general. I don’t know if I know any of my friends who has a pair of jeans that I would consider to be entirely ideal, and if they did I think it wouldn’t be unlikely at all that I’d be in love with said person. It is very difficult to find the right amount of tightness and bagginess and longness and shortness and dark and light in a pair of jeans.
Oh my goodness I saw a little wasted emo boy running through the mall last night and his pants actually fell down while he was running. I didn’t think that would happen in real life, but it did. The alcohol might have been a bit, or a lot, to blame, but wow. So jeans can’t be too low either, but not too high.
And I don’t think some boys realize that it’s not only girls who can have big bums. And there are ways of choosing clothes that don’t accentuate such features but I guess some boys were unfortunate enough to be born without sisters and with mothers who told them to ‘love their bodies’ so they never learnt. These boys probably have never really had a girlfriend to tell them either.
And boys who wear jeans that look like leggings and they’re all excited because they’re so anorexic that they can fit into size 8 girls jeans from Jay Jays and have smaller legs than ¾ of the girls they know, I disapprove of them also.
Just because you’re in a band doesn’t mean you’re not still too fat and ugly to pull off the ‘cool’ things that your favorite bands that you’re ripping off wear. Fat boys with ‘shaped’ thighs should NOT wear skinny leg jeans. There’s ways to get around the fashion, I promise, there are other alternatives, you’re an alternative guy – you should know that.
I dismiss people who wear baggy jeans or girls who wear flairs as being unintelligent or from Salisbury (the usually smell bad too though) with little hesitation. This is a practice merely learnt though experience though. I’m sorry if it makes me a bad person. There are a few small exceptions of people who have quite clearly bought all of their clothes from op shops or had them for the last ten years in some exercise of punk rock ethics and I think some of these people are ok.
Some people’s personalities are so bad that it would not be ok for them to have a good pair of jeans. It just wouldn’t work. And they would probably think the jeans were bad anyway.
Bootlegs are the happy medium for normal people. People who wear them are probably boring but at least they’re sensible and they’re not trying too hard.
Rolling jeans up is usually a bad idea and so is letting them drag on the ground. That was only cool in yr7. I am the first to understand any length issues resultant of being of lesser than average height, I entirely sympathies that your jeans are 6 inches too long, but it costs $8 to get them taken up and I bet you paid more that $60 for them so you might as well just finish the job, you big stinge.