Each decision would require you to turn to a different page to continue the story. The suspense would build as you would read on and on towards an inevitable ending. In some cases you would die a horrible and untimely death, in others you could be victorious as the hero (or heroine for our female readers out there).

When it came to making decisions, I would often turn ahead to see which path ensured I remain in the story for as long as possible. It was obviously not the way the writers intended for the reader to interact with the book (you could even call it cheating), but I never felt bad about it, nor did I ever feel as though it degraded the experience. Perhaps I was exercising a little greed. These books had given me a choice in the outcome, but I wanted to play God and determine the length of my interaction as well.

The problem as far as I could tell however, was that there was lack of a skill element to choosing your own adventure. Intelligence, skill level and life experience had no impact on one’s ability to make decisions. Despite this, I still managed to derive a lot of enjoyment out of my ability to determine the outcome. The outcome was a choice. It was my choice.

For over a year now, my primary source of income has been funded by a large, shameless corporation that profits from the exploitation of human weaknesses. Working for a large corporation doesn’t rank very highly on my personal list of life goals and for this reason, said corporation shall remain nameless.

This source of income has been rationalised for a long time simply because I’ve been looked after quite well, particularly in the area of compensation. It’s not the highest paying vocation, but it pays well for the type of work that I do and offers a lot of flexibility in terms of working hours. Of course, these benefits come at a cost and as such, I’ve had to give up the freedom of my weekends and commit to a 24 hour roster.

Over the past couple of months, a number of changes have taken place that has permanently altered the working environment. The loosening of hiring policies, changes in training standards, and the hiring of hundreds of new staff has resulted in a massive overstaffing and the reduction of available hours to the entire workforce in my department. Having been here for over a year and a half, I’ve seen many an injustice served to my colleagues and co-workers. Which is why my attitude towards this establishment has never been anything more than a means to an end. A bastion of financial security whilst, I spent time answering questions in my own life.

Despite all of this, when those higher up in the food chain orchestrated the onslaught of changes, nothing really prepared me for the inevitable. All of a sudden, my hours at work were cut in half and as a result, so was my salary. I was served a harsh reminder that I lacked any control over the outcomes in this particular area of my life. My income and my weekends were in the hands of people who were indifferent to my situation.

Disgruntled by the recent changes, I sought to take control. Several months earlier, I had taken steps to reduce my hours from full time to part time with maximum hours. The majority of my debts had been paid off and I was well on the way to being debt free. I was also ready to get back into the technology industry after a much needed year long hiatus. I was able to balance the beginnings of running a web development consultancy with the support of a guaranteed income from my weekend employment. It did mean that I would potentially be working six to seven days a week, but it was a sacrifice that I was more than happy with and chose to make. The key word being ‘chose’.

So now I was faced with a rather difficult decision. I could apply to have my status return to full time ensuring that I would be able to pay the bills and continue towards my financial goals. This option would run contrary to everything that I have said thus far. I would even go so far as to compare it to returning to a maximum security prison with an increased sentence after having successfully escaped. Come to think of it, there are a lot of truths in that analogy.

The alternative would be to submit my resignation. Something that has obviously been a long time coming. I have accrued over 240 hours of annual leave since my employment, which could be considered as a nice redundancy package to be used to eliminate the last of my debts, setup a comfortable emergency fund, and even have enough left over to save towards the beginnings of an investment portfolio. I would be completely free to work on building my business.

As much as a resignation would be the ideal solution, it also carries with it the most risk. If my days at Quentin, Carter & Company (a company that two partners and I maxed out our credit cards to start; and the cause of most of my credit card debt) had taught me anything, it is that there is almost always a middle ground that involves a lot less risk. In other words, when trying to make decisions that involve risk and reward, there is usually a rational and analytical approach to arriving at a decision that ensures the maximum reward for minimum risk. Some of the more mathematically inclined will recognise this approach as calculus. I guess our lecturers weren’t lying when they insisted that there were practical applications for mathematics.

So as glamourous as resignation sounds, it’s not the decision I went with. Instead I took a step closer and reduced my status to minimum hours. This will provide me with the basic necessities like rent and food, but the onus will be on me to provide everything else from additional expenses to maintaining my lifestyle.

The decision may not be pretty or glamourous, but I refuse to prescribe to a life of decree.

I much prefer to choose my own adventure.

I’m not looking for love but love always finds me. - Maria

The magic spell that is traveling evokes the kind of freedom missing from our sheltered environment we call home. It’s always your decision if you want to extend your hand and meet new people but not everyone is at ease talking to a complete stranger and it’s a hard task building comfort as quickly as you can click your fingers. But with the right frame of mind, armed with a smile and your stories you open a world of fun, games and heartbreak.

Is love a choice? - Francis

My travels around South East Asia has a theme and that is love and relationships. It doesn’t matter where I go the majority of people I’ve had the pleasure of meeting have told me a story of love, betrayal or heartbreak. I enjoy listening and debating on how life is one big crisis, whether you are running away, trying to find something or someone or escaping from your world. My sometimes-morbid outlook always seems to divide people and that’s the magic of a great personal interaction.

No one likes to sleep alone. Would you like to cuddle with me? - Phillip

It is calming and frightening to think you can be alone in this world, no one to talk to, no one that will listen, no one that cares. It’s okay to be alone but by protecting your heart you break it. My cure for emptiness is good company and a great story.

You are my sweetest downfall - Regina

It is liberating to feel a strong emotional connection with someone you just met, the thrill of figuring each other out and the game you play with each other melts your heart.

What I found out about myself thanks to all the incredible people I’ve met is: You don’t want to fall in love with me, I run away.

The story continues…

On the weekend a dear dear friend got us together and shared the most wonderful news.

I wanted to yell the news from the cliff tops by my beach, so it would resonate across the sea to anybody and everybody out there. I thought of all my friends who would be stoked to hear about it. But on the way home from our get together I get a call from my ’sharing friend’ not to say anything to anybody, not yet.

Ahhh, now my joy has been locked up, my heart is contracting instead of expanding. Is honest, loving communication something that should be hidden away? Hidden love is dead wood. I can’t say a thing to anybody until I get the A-OK from my friend. Now I know she is protecting her own interests so why tell me at all? Because she wants to share her joy with close friends and I am lucky enough to be one of them. The hardest thing is that there are other friends interested in the news, waiting in anticipation, but I have to play a poker face. Those who know me, know my heart is worn on my sleeve, pulsating richly red with exuberance, all highs and lows on show. Not this time. Please don’t ask me about my friend’s news, I cannot lie, nor can I dishonour the request of my friend.

The very next day I am asked by my house mate about news from my sharing friend and now I have to fob her off and not answer the questions asked of me. Now I have to hide the truth. Rules and regulations concerning love shackle the heart. It’s a devastating game for me to play.

I hereby make a statement to the world, share any loving communication with me, I live for it, but don’t put restrictions on me. Please, from now on don’t tell me anything until you are comfortable for me to shout it from the cliff tops! Your wonderful news is there for us all to relish, it brings us all together.

Set - noun: a group of people in a social setting. A two-set is a group of two people; a three-set is three people, and so on. Sets may contain women, men or both.

I looked over to the far side of the lounge. There was a two-set by the window and from what I could tell they were intimidatingly attractive.

“It’s your set”, motioned Pete with a tip of his beer bottle, indicating that it was my turn to approach. Three-second rule. One. What was I to open with? Should I run with one of the many openers that we’d used before? Two. Perhaps the setting called for something more spontaneous and situational? Three.

With a breath of courage I grabbed my beer and walked over.

Now before I continue, approaching random women in bars is not something I’ve been known to do, so I’ll shed some background on what brought me to this very moment in time.

Several months ago, I came across a book entitled ‘The Game’, which unbeknownst to me at the time was to have life altering implications. The sort of life altering significance that kissing a girl (or boy) for the first time tends to imply. You know what I’m talking about.

PUA - noun [pickup artist]: a player who excels at the game.

The book is written as a biography from the perspective of Neil Strauss who, over the course of two years gains access to a community of PUAs and transforms himself from a balding journalist to a man irresistible to women.

This community was made up men who had committed themselves to seducing women. The art of seduction was broken down into a science and interactions with women suddenly became abstract design patterns. Common situations were described as different patterns, each of which had its own optimal solution depending on the context.

Whilst I was a little uncomfortable with the level of which the game objectified women, I could appreciate the science of it all. There was now a clarity in how my successes and failures in this area were not a result of destiny or bad luck, but a poor understanding of the dynamics of my interaction with women. I have always believed in my own innate ability to determine my own reality; start a business, get fit, eat healthy, or any other form of lasting change; but I never believed that this potential could transcend into the area of relationships.

Now I know better.

This was my biggest takeaway from ‘The Game’. Not the profound ability to seduce any woman I wanted, but the realisation that anyone could determine their own outcomes in this area without the aid of fate or serendipity.

The Approach

Wing - noun: a male friend, generally with some pickup knowledge, who assists one in meeting, attracting, or taking home a woman.

The venue was rather target poor. In fact, I was approaching one of only three sets. They sat facing each other, on separate couches next to the window on the other side of the lounge.

Walking towards them, I focused on what I was going to say and on saying it with confidence. The three-second rule doesn’t allow you time to get nervous.

“Hi. My mate and I are looking for something to do tonight, and I was wondering if you knew of any good Tuesday night venues?”

“Oh sorry, we’re not from around here.”

“Ah, really? Where are you from?”

“Germany.”

I was beginning to panic, but like any good wing, Pete followed behind closely and was ready to enter the set.

“Actually, my roommate is from Germany. Guten Tag, mein name ist Peter.”

While Pete managed to get a giggle from the girls, they were still apprehensive about our intentions. I distinctly remember a glance that they had given each other in response to our approach. You could see it in their eyes, “these guys are trying to pick us up.” It’s a glance that surpasses all cultural barriers. The glance of death that makes or breaks your game.

So we sat down.

We barraged with question after question about Germany and travelling, until after what seemed like ten minutes of interrogation the girls finally began warming up to us. Their body language opened up and instead of each other, they were now looking at us.

Middle Game

IOI - noun [indicator of interest]: a sign a woman gives a man that indirectly reveals she is attracted to or interested in him.

Anyone who watches professional sport can appreciate the manner in which athletes are able to anticipate the movements of their team-mates and react accordingly. With the same level of skilful artistry we anticipated each other’s movements and isolated the girls. We were now free to continue our conversations with the sole attention of each girl.

This was no longer the approach. We were now in the rapport building phase.

What is seemingly the more forgiving phases, middle game is probably the most difficult. The outcome is determined by what is said and done during this phase and it is important to be aware of the direction of the interaction and escalate accordingly. If the target invests in the interaction in the form of an IOI, you relate, reward accordingly and escalate to the next level. It’s a fragile balance of push and pull.

Having said that, I had no middle game whatsoever.

As it turns out, her friend was leaving for Sydney the next day and she was staying alone in Melbourne for another week. We talked about the life of a backpacker and how, despite meeting many people in her travels, there was still a feeling of lonely melancholy. She revealed her frustrations with how difficult it was to meet people she liked. She told me about her diet of bread and cheese, and we talked about Melbourne’s fine cuisine and culture.

I failed to pickup on her IOIs. I didn’t really relate. And I certainly didn’t escalate. To be honest, I was too busy enjoying the conversation.

When Pete’s bladder got the better of him, he got up for a bathroom break, leaving me to entertain the girls on my own. Nothing would prepare me for what he was to do next.

He returned with another girl he opened at the bar.

When we looked at each other, nothing needed to be said. There was definitely something different about tonight. Perhaps the stars were aligned in our favour. Perhaps our recent birthdays combined to create some sort of astrological anomaly. In either case, what we lacked in solid game, we more than made up for in confidence.

This girl certainly had a quality about her that demanded attention. No seriously, she was like an attention vacuum. It was hard not to notice, and it certainly didn’t hurt that she was quite attractive.

It was difficult to comprehend the situation that we were in. My nervous opener had evolved into a successful approach, Pete had successfully introduced another girl into the set, she in turn had introduced her friends; and we were now surrounded by girls.

Inner Game

The Four Stages of Learning

1. Unconscious Incompetence: You don’t know what your problems are, nor how to identify them.
2. Conscious Incompetence: You see your problems, but you don’t know how to correct them.
3. Conscious Competence: You know how to correct your problems, but it will take time and practice.
4. Unconscious Competence: You play well without thinking about it!

Like any form of personal development, there is always the anxiety of stepping beyond your comfort zone. That epiphany of conscious incompetence when you realise there’s an area of your life that needs to be addressed.

My pursuit of the game has negligible emphasise on the superficial elements of seducing or manipulating women, otherwise known as outer game. On the contrary, my search is for inner game; the confidence and self assuredness that only comes from being fulfilled in all the other areas of your life. It’s the happiness to be aware and uncompromising about who you are. There’s a fine line between seducing a woman and attracting her. It can almost be said that the former resembles outer game and the latter a product of inner game.

Number-Close - verb: to obtain a correct phone number from a woman. Note that giving a woman one’s own number does not constitute a number-close.

Soon it was time for the first two to leave, and as they got up we said our good byes and wished them well in their journeys. The thought of number-closing hadn’t even occurred to me. Perhaps I could have. Perhaps I should have. But I was feeling nonchalant.

Besides, my interest had been piqued by another girl in the set.

“You’re not going to do this forever are you?”

Sally is a regular customer at the coffee shop where I work. Like the majority of our regulars, her coffee order is stored in my memory: medium skinny latte no sugar with chocolate on top. Sometimes, she orders a slice of banana bread and then pays after she finishes her shift. I can always count on Sally for a sarcastic banter or two. She can probably always count on me to put chocolate on her latte.

“No, not forever,” I finally reply.

As humans, there are a few things we avoid doing in public. For example, I wouldn’t sit down in the middle of the road, pull out a newspaper and proceed to do a number two. Except for a couple of people and most canines, I think I am not alone in this. For me, there also appears to be other things I avoid doing in public; admitting that I want to be a writer tops the list.

“So where would this course take you?” Sally asks me.

After telling her about the postgraduate course I enrolled in, she began an interrogation that nearly compromised my ability to remember her coffee order. Medium skinny latte no sugar with chocolate on top, I had to remind myself. There was one time when she ordered an iced-coffee and caught me off guard but that was it. I don’t ever forget her coffee order.

“I… I… don’t know. Somewhere… I hope,” I answered hesitantly.

It’s strange how easily we can admit to hating our job. Somehow, it’s an accepted - almost expected - part of life to hate the work you do. And yet, the moment you admit to having a dream, the doubts settle in and not least from yourself. Could it be that we are afraid that reality might fail us? Or that we might fail to create our reality?

But why?

There is no shame in passion or time wasted living it. Really, more time is wasted avoiding this pursuit. Perhaps as humans one of the few things we avoid doing in public and private is believing ourselves worthy and capable of living our dreams, of being the people we want to be and creating the reality we want.

I want to be a writer.

One day, I sat down and wrote a list of the reasons I wanted to write and this statement was what it came down to: “I write because I must”. I am a prisoner of the thing that consumes me wherein I have left myself with the choice to be taken in or released only through my own surrender.

So, I enrolled in a writing course.

I may not remember every coffee order forever. Someday, I might forget that Sally likes her lattés skinny and with chocolate on top but writing…

Yes, this I will do forever.

Question: If you follow the voice it will lead you to…?
Answer: Questions

06/02/2007

I have experienced a lifetime of questions about myself and my journey.
It isn’t about finding myself or finding someone it’s about answering the right questions.

07/02/2007

My mind is clear. I have no thoughts. I’m unsure where my path is going to lead me but I have to seize the moment. Live the moment.

08/02/2007

There is something about airports that calms me down. People travelling excite me but when I travel I feel like I’m running away, running from the truth.

10/02/2007

To taste life you smile at every challenge.
The taste of life, to live and learn.

12/02/2007

Paper, pen, ready… And nothing.

14/02/2007

Watching the endless traps pass by is now a distant memory. When I’m lost I don’t want to be found. Let me struggle and find my own way home.

15/02/2007

By protecting my heart I got lost.

16/02/2007

I run and run with no resolute. My body and mind says no.

17/02/2007

Are you a shy person?
Saying good bye to yourself is such a hard thing.

24/02/2007

Finally, I know I’m not well. I’m disillusioned and it hurts to think. To move or do nothing. A magic pill is not the answer.

The collection of diary entries is based on my travels and my emotional conditioning. I find that writing how I feel evokes a vivid picture of what I experienced, I’m unusual that way.

I have been travelling around South East Asia for 6 weeks and I am losing my mind but at least I know where the demons live and I’m ready to fight.

I do question my mental state of mind on a daily basis and I’m not always in a drug induced coma writing trivial things, I always write trivial things. But there is something liberating and frightening when one reads over pointless ramblings, I cry, laugh and embarrass myself with my stupidity and lack of candour.

I have analyzed myself to the point where it almost consumed my life. I don’t have the answers but knowing there are still questions keeps my starry-eyed dreams alive.

The Itch is a collaborative journal which explores the experiences of a number of contributors as they struggle, fail, overcome and ultimately find answers to the questions that drive them.

Created by the very community it aims to serve, The Itch is written by a diverse collective from all walks of life.

Whether you’re a university graduate who is uncertain about the future, a failed entrepreneur looking for the next big thing, or a successful professional searching for something more; The Itch is proof that the answers you seek are within reach.

Two years ago, I found myself living in a tiny office space. Earlier that same year I had resigned from a company which I had started with two good friends, went on to work for an existing client and eventually left it all to begin training as a low level employee in a casino.

There was a serendipity in that for the first time in years, the only person I was responsible for was myself. No siblings to worry about. No obligations to business partners. However there was a bitter melancholy towards my solitary predicament and an equal resentment towards the mountain of debt and unpaid bills that I was now to face on my own.

So I began budgeting.

I read about various budgeting methods on the Internet and wrote software that allowed me to allocate my income and track my expenses. For a few months, I kept track of my money in meticulous detail. My software was able to tell you how much KFC I had consumed over a given period of time. It could tell you how much coffee I drank last week and when. But despite all of this, the interface was clunky and cumbersome and every day I would come home to a growing pile of receipts that had to be entered in.

Managing my budget was hard work and I wasn’t actually making much progress on my debts. I would often walk into JB Hi-Fi and find myself defenceless against the onslaught of cheap popular music. Thanks to the digital music revolution, traditional CDs have become cheap carrot and stick for suckers like myself.

It was all too complicated. I needed to simplify. It didn’t really matter exactly how much money I spent at a particular fast food outlet, but rather how much money I spent on eating out in general. I threw away my software and using an Excel spreadsheet, redesigned my budget for simplicity. To better understand the psychology of money I began consuming weblogs, books, magazines, and everything I could on personal finance.

Every day we are bombarded with an infinite paradox of choice in the form of marketing. In fact our relationships with money are founded on these very choices. When you choose not to buy things you don’t really need, you also learn to appreciate the things you already have. When you choose to drink coffee once instead of two times a day, you have the freedom to donate the money you save to a cause that’s really important to you. These seemingly trivial choices have the potential to really fulfil not only your financial but also your life goals.

Armed with a new found ability to make choices, I stopped spending frivolously. I sold my share in a business I was in partnership with. I directed every spare dollar I had towards debt. One after the other, I eliminated the balances on my credit cards and my personal loans. It wasn’t long before I had paid off in excess of ten thousand dollars in debt.

What became clear is that wealth is not the result of an abundance of money, but rather the product of a healthy relationship with it. This is an astounding affirmation; what it meant was that anyone could be wealthy. It doesn’t matter how much or how little you make; wealth is a choice.

Furthermore, what’s really important is not so much abundance that makes us happy but rather relationships.

Having a hundred friends may seem like a valuable investment in time, but if you can’t create and develop meaningful connections with any of them, what’s the point?

You can spend thousands of dollars creating an image of the ideal you; but do clothes, books and personal development seminars matter if you don’t learn to love and respect yourself first?

So this journey that had it’s humble beginnings in an office turned home is all about relationships:

• My relationships with friends and colleagues.
• My relationship with money.
• Even my relationships with girls.

But most important of all, this journey is about my relationship with myself.

I like to complicate my life, it’s the only way I keep my sanity.

Depending on my manic depressive state, I’m the guy that will ask you:

“What’s your passion in life?”

Or

“If you were a burger, what would you do?”

I’m the guy that loves to listen and learn everything from you. I’m a sponge, I absorb.
My problem is that I can’t help myself and mother always told me that I’m going to crash and burn.

Unfortunately, my entire life ends up crashing or burning in one way or another.

“[Be mindful of the future] but not at the expense of the moment.”
Qui-Gon Jinn, Star Wars: Episode 1

My Moments:

• Joined the school circus at the tender age of 7
• Self crowned Grade 4 Four-Square champion
• Wore a skirt and make up for a high school play of Ancient Egypt
• Formed a Death Metal band at a ripe age of 16
• Backyard Wrestling Champion of my household

It’s time to grow up. My goal in life isn’t to replicate or survive nor is it to make millions of dollars or save the world from greedy corporate suits. My goal is simple, it’s to let go.

I want to be able to interact with anyone who is having an ordinary time in their life and enthusiastically say “Hey, you have potential, I like you. Let’s hold hands and cuddle, I’m confident that we will figure it out together.”

I began my 2007 chapter backpacking through Thailand with four headstrong mates. I’m not sure what I’m looking for, and at times I don’t remember who I am or where I’m going to sleep for the night. But I do know who my friends are, I’ve connected with amazing people from around the world and of course, there has been a lot of drama on the way.

This is my soul searching mission in hopes to find something or someone special.

Yes, I believe in magic.

The fact is “The Life Plan” has failed little by little.

Take for example graduation day. It is supposed to be a day where years spent at uni hungover or otherwise would finally culminate into a day where degrees are distributed, long speeches are made and long gowns are worn. Graduation day is not supposed to be one of those days where you work from morning till midday, wait an hour for your late hairdresser, find out when you get home that you don’t actually own formal clothes and then arrive at graduation to find that you never told your uni your size, so now you have to wear a tablecloth on stage.

The Life Plan is also a very difficult plan to stick to.

For some reason, I always envisioned life after high school to travel along a predictable and smooth path of study, travel and work. There was no dent in this Life Plan and there was certainly no Pride and Prejudice or Donna Hay cookbooks involved. I was seventeen and I was sure that by 22, I would have it all. I never imagined that my interests would change; I never imagined that life, love and lust would hurt me and I never imagined that at 22, I would have no idea what I was doing with my life or what to do with the rest of it.

The Life Plan hasn’t served me very well thus I have resorted to dreams of one day.

One day, I am going to raid my savings account, catch a cab to the airport, stand in front of a world map and play a game called “pick a random country to disappear to”.

One day, I am going to ride a motorbike around Australia and dedicate my life to being lost, confused and afraid to wet my pants.

One day, I am going to work in a job whereby I only call in sick because I am actually sick and one day, I am going to wear my jeans inside out.

One day.

Right now however, my wallet is lost somewhere in Melbourne and I am in a serious relationship with non-processed food. All I hope for is that somewhere in between right now and one day, life will happen.