2012: That's A Wrap Everyone!

Well, it has been quite a year. When I was thinking about writing this I thought, where the hell do I start?!  I can't begin at the beginning of 2012 because either can't remember much of it, or it was entirely uneventful. So I'm just going to pick some key moments and run with that and because I'm feeling particularly sentimental, I'll end with my thoughts on the closest people in my life. Sounds like a plan, alrighty then.

First things first, I became an "aunt" again, with the newest member of our family, Braxton Jordan, being born in April. He was the tiniest creature I have ever seen in my life, new to this world and so delicate to hold. I'll admit I had this insane fear that I was going to break him, he just seemed so precious to me. His birth was definitely a beautiful event this year.

Following April I suppose a big moment for me, definitely the highlight of my year, was my solo trip to England to study abroad at the University of East Anglia (UEA). I don't know what I was expecting, knowing me it wouldn't have been much, a terrible accident or injury perhaps? Whatever I had previously thought, UEA blew my mind. I met so many warm and energetic people from all around the world and I'm glad to call quite a few of them friends now. I had this once in a lifetime opportunity to live and study in Norwich and London for a little over four weeks and I had the time of my life. I was already completely in love with London, but Norwich was not what I expected at all. I'm a city girl, loud noises and cafes on every corner is what I'm used to. Norwich was not loud, it wasn't overflowing with cafes at all, but it was quaint and held so much history and beauty, I fell in love with the small town too. I got to learn a lot more than contemporary British theatre while I was there. I think I found out what it was like to be completely out of your comfort zone, surrounded by people you don't know and I love the independence it inspired. I've never regretted studying abroad, it was probably the best thing I have ever or will ever do.

Theatre kids take London. Mana, Jeff, Anna, George (me), Mackenzie and Lana.

After my incredible adventure to the Motherland, the year really went down hill very quickly. Within the space of three months I got the "opportunity" to move three times, once legitimately my own choice. It was rough on me and incredibly upsetting, but that's life for you. I have now settled in the Inner West of Sydney with my best friend and another girl I went to school with. I think this place suits me much better than the Eastern suburbs where I'm originally from, although the coffee definitely isn't as good, cheaper though. It's very hard at times, living with friends, you're bound to get at each other's throats a bit and that has happened, but overall it's not that hard. Moving out was always a plan of mine before I turned 21 anyway and I accomplished that, perhaps not on my own terms though.

So that leads us to another major (somewhat major) event, I turned the ripe old age of 21 in the same week I finished my Bachelor of Arts degree. So not only am I old now, I've also finished University with a degree in History, set to graduate in April of 2013.  My birthday week was incredible in comparison to how my life generally is, I got to spend time with friends, receive fabulous gifts and I felt very loved. My party was small but everything I wanted, it was probably one of the greatest weeks of my life. 

My eldest sister Cass, George and my second eldest sister Jessie on my 21st birthday.

Those were the main events of 2012 I suppose. Everything else is irrelevant now and not particularly interesting. I did get to see Bill Bailey and Noel Fielding with friends. I changed my hair plenty of times, changed jobs, lost (very little) weight, slow walkers pissed me off even more than usual, I tried to be more social (failed) and struggled with my depression and eating disorder again. See? Completely irrelevant daily stuff, not very interesting. 

So you're probably wondering, George, where is this going now? You've just wrapped 2012 up! Not quite, not quite darlings. My wrap up would not be complete unless I took this final opportunity to mention a few people who made this year bearable. Bear with me here, I'm an emotional being at times.

To:

Cass - My darling eldest sister, what an inspiration you are! I'm so glad I found you again.

Jessie - My constant companion always, you're even more beautiful on the inside.

Gabby - My oldest friend, my philosophical equal.

Laura - My other half.

Thea - One of the smartest and kindest souls I know.

Vick - My sister from another mother, father, country, different birth date...

Anna - A beautiful lady, one I wish I had met so much earlier.

Jenny - My feisty Russian doll and protector.

Drew - A warm-hearted beauty.

Lily - A top notch baker and an even better friend (if possible).

Timothy - Terribly bad (but funny) accents, bizarre stories and endearingly odd.

Mitchell - My favourite cousin, you deserve so much more out of this life, I hope it shapes up for you.

Nanna - Sorry I let you down, but everyone has their own dream.

Mum - Thank you for everything, but how did you forget to pick me up?!

One pissed off Kindy student.  You forgot that Mum!

Dad - No I'm just moody, I don't get my period everyday of the year, thank you very much.

That is it guys, that's a wrap for 2012 with all the highs and lows this year has brought me.

Was there a point to all of this? I'd like to think there was. If my life has taught me anything, it is that I should be thankful for the things I do have and what I'm most thankful for is the people I have, hence the messages. You should know that the one thing I wanted most in life was to make people happy, that has always been the goal. I hope I was somewhat successful in my endeavour, even if it made you happy for a second, that's good enough for me. It's also the reason that I have this persistent desire to take hundreds of photos every time I'm out with friends, to update my Facebook status, to write a blog entry, all because I want that documentation of my happiness with others. I just wanted to capture all those good moments and never forget them, I know how easy it is to forget those magic moments at times. So I apologise now for my obsessive updating of Facebook and this blog and taking large amounts of photos of every person I know. 

Now this was a happy moment for me, terrifying, but happy.

Thank you my lovelies, you have been spectacular, sincerely. GRMB.

A thought on life:

"And if I can take part in it by transforming my own consciousness, then someone else's, I'm happy to do it." 

- Bill Hicks

Prescription Pills: The Making of Wonderful Disasters.

"I'm a wonderful disaster. So are you. We're all a mess. We're in this culture that says take this pill and you'll be happy, go on this diet and you'll be thinner, have your teeth whitened, people will love you more." 
This is society in a nutshell. 

I want to correct something for you or better yet, provide you with some new insights I've just recently realised. To mention a post of mine from way back, when I was discussing drugs and the possibility that they're not all that bad, I have something new to add to that discussion. I still believe we can't really judge people who choose to use drugs and I still think they have had some positive impacts, however I'm starting to think that the point of me writing that post was to validate my own actions. I don't consider myself a drug-taker (most of them don't) but I can't deny the fact I've abused them. Prescriptions pills most definitely and very rarely, alcohol too.

Prescription pill "popping" is probably a lot more common than most people think. I consider those warnings more of a guideline anyway, people assume they know how much they can handle (myself included). It just so happens that in my case I can take quite a hit from many different types of pills e.g. valium, xanax, panadeine forte etc. They're all prescription only, but these days doctors seem more than happy to give them out to you (a big part of the problem), it's only the pharmacist that's a bit iffy. So unlike alcohol, I can handle these sorts of drugs. I've used and abused them at times, always at dark times and I never achieve anything apart from grogginess, pain and confusion. When I was thinking about this last night it did strike me that I was a lot more like my mother than I had previously thought. I know there is a lot of talk about addictions being linked to your genetics and I do believe that, but maybe when I was judging my mother (well, considering more like) I was ignoring my own abuses of drugs. I think maybe I do actually belong to that group of drug-takers I was discussing, maybe that's what bugs me so much when people want to criticise something they can't understand. I can understand these sorts of addictions because a) well acquainted with so many people with addiction problems and b) on occasion I happen to belong to that group that is so criticised by our "society." (Note: Society sucks)

With that realisation, I can't say I will actually change anything about my "problem." It's more recreational than a habit (true story), it's more for pain than for needing the pills to survive and it's usually to aid the process of dying. Considering all those attempts have failed, maybe I'm just not very good at drug-taking or my body just keeps outsmarting my mind (not a hard task). Regardless of why I choose to take prescription drugs, I would really hate to see what my internal organs look like now, let's put it that way.

In regards to suicide and prescription pills though, people always seem to believe that overdosing is a much more womanly way to die. There is less mess, less pain (so they think) and it's quick (sometimes). People are idiots and most certainly wrong about those assumptions and I can't for the life of me understand where they got their information from (if they have ANY), but I have heard this sort of rubbish time and time again. Apparently shooting yourself or something more violent is a "manly" way to die. Bullshit.  I'm not even going to bother correcting them because it's just ridiculous, but I would say to people who criticise the way someone chooses to die that maybe they should focus on why someone would want to die in the first place. It doesn't matter how someone dies, isn't the loss of a life itself more important? How is just the details, why is what is more important. Then again, some people really get a kick out of being cold-hearted and mean-spirited and I've never really liked those sorts of individuals anyway.

There was really no point to this post really, I just wanted to correct some of my previous statements. I left out prescription drugs altogether in my last drugs post because it's a touchy subject for me, it's still quite raw in fact because it's very close to me. Illicit drugs, alcohol abuse, all of those drug addictions are close as well, but they're not me, I don't do those sorts of things (not willingly anyway, I have been spiked), so it is a lot easier to be objective (somewhat) about those habits. I'm correcting my previous errors now because it just seemed like the right time to do it and I have to say, I do wish doctors would stop being so giving with all the drugs. I really don't like doctors. Maybe at some point it was about curing people and helping them, now it seems to be acceptable to load them up with goodies. I'm not blaming them (whoever they are, loads of people probably), individuals ultimately choose whether or not they're going to abuse them but less access would be handy. I just don't know, what do other people think?

I do seriously believe people need to be more aware of seemingly harmless drugs like those prescribed to you as being addictive as well, instead of just assuming that if a doctor prescribes it, it must be good for you. A load of good it has done for me. They have never helped me, they have only ever aided my own destruction. I could probably blame our social atmosphere for that, because that's the flaw with our society isn't it? Everything good just decays. We'll do whatever we're told, we'll take whatever we're given and we ultimately abuse and twist all those "good" things until we are these "wonderful disasters." We're all a mess really.

Regrets & mistakes, they're memories made.

Talking to people about my problems is not natural, it's not me. If you believe in personality types, which I certainly do, it definitely isn't me. I've had to take those tests for numerous reasons and I always end up with INTJ, introverted, intuitive, thinking and judging.

The introverted part is obvious, that isn't a problem for me now, although attempting to be more social is. It's the thinking and the judging. I much prefer to observe and be objective, to be in control with concrete plans that I follow through. Being emotional, talking about feelings and worries, it's just not me. Everyone knows that, so when I try and tell people about some of my problems for a change, no one takes me seriously. It is incredibly heartbreaking when you summon up the courage to talk to someone and they laugh at you, or they tell you to grow up and change your attitude.

So I have tried talking to people. I have tried seeing people. I have tried ignoring people. Nothing works. Whenever I try and speak, I just choke up. Whenever I go out with people, I'm physically there but I am not there. Ignoring people doesn't work much either, my ability to feel guilt and to worry always kills that idea. 

The past two weeks have been torture. Thursday evening and Friday were more than torture, I can't even describe it. Looking back now with a slightly clearer mind, I just keep thinking of all the things I should have done. I shouldn't have tried to make people understand because they couldn't, I shouldn't have told anyone I was unhappy and I definitely should have switched my phone off or taken the battery out. I should have stayed on the floor and not moved for anything, because maybe then I would have succeeded. Despite any consequences, any hurt feelings, all things which I already feel guilt for, it was what I wanted more than anything in the world. All I did though was reinforce my own opinion, which is that I am just a failure at everything. I've backed myself into a corner I just cannot get out of, every possibility just causes more pain and suffering.

I can't live and I can't die. I make people unhappy by being here and I make people unhappy by trying to leave here. I couldn't be perfect for my parents so that I could make them happy and because they're not happy, I can't be happy either.  I can't fix them and so I can't fix myself. My only source of happiness is the ability to make other people happy. If I can't make people happy then what good am I? That's my job, it's my place and it's where I thought I fit in the world, in my group of friends and in my family. But I just keep failing everyone and myself. I'm just hurting people by making them unhappy because I'm unhappy. On Friday I couldn't find myself. I don't remember getting up, I don't remember going downstairs or how I got from the bathroom to a park, but I do remember the devastation that the morning brought me and I do remember breaking down in a park suffocated by guilt. I got home somehow and just broke down in front of my best friend. It was a relief then, but it's a regret now. I cried my heart out to my Nanna and now all I feel is shame. I started quoting a Blake poem to her and described myself as being like a Robin in a cage and she thought I was mental. This weekend has just past and I still don't know where I actually am or how I feel. I think this is nothingness.   

So I'm not going to try and talk about my problems anymore, because it doesn't help me and it's my place to be the one listening, not talking. I'm not going to tell people I'm unhappy ever again because it just kicks my empathy into overdrive and I change my plans to make other people happy. Who would have thought empathy was a weakness? It is though. I can't do anything right now because I made promises to people and I don't break my promises, but I can't do nothing and I can't say anything because, despite this blog post, I'd rather be alone at the end and let people remain unaware for as long as possible. I would rather be sad and alone than to hurt my friends and family, which is all I seem to be able to do. 

So as Elvis sang, "a little less conversation, a little more action." I'll drink to that. 

I just want you to know who I am.

To get straight to the point, I have had absolutely no luck recently.  Injuries, depression, worries and friend's problems, it's a lot for one person to deal with apparently. I had a fabulous birthday, everything was perfect, it was too good to be true. Obviously it was a little too good, because this week has just proved to me that good things don't ever last longer than a few days for me.

These past few days have been a slap to the face, a snap back to reality. All I can say is that life, specifically my life, is terrifying, disappointing and painful. It's even more painful when you really don't want to be here anymore. There are a handful of people in this world, family and friends, that would break my heart if they left me. The people that can make you laugh, smile and cry, sometimes simultaneously. Perhaps that's a good motive to go first, then I don't have to suffer that pain. Selfish, but even the thought of my parents ever leaving me is too much to deal with. I'd hate for them to leave and it hurts me to think of leaving them, even though I've tried to quite a few times now.

Sometimes though, those people you cherish the most aren't enough to halt the inevitable or destroy your despair. Even if you're in love with someone and you want to give them everything you have and share every moment with them, it just isn't enough. Just being in love with someone is an ordeal in itself, it's a bit like a thunderstorm. There's bright lights, loud noises and you're startled, but then there's rain and it's both fierce and calming. You're frightened, but at the same time you can't look away even if it means you get completely soaked to the bone. You can recognise something beautiful and terrifying when you see it and it makes you stay, despite all the fear. That's always what I've thought love to be anyway, something so powerful, destructive and beautiful all at once.

Even love and everything it encompasses isn't enough sometimes and really, if that isn't enough, what else could be? Hicks said there's a clear choice between fear and love and while I think the man was brilliant, sometimes there isn't that clear choice and that fear and your love for people meld into something dark and twisted. That's true despair.

I took a look at my life recently and I didn't like what I saw. I am so sick and tired of pain and hurting people, most of all I hate to disappoint people. I have been such a disappointment. I behaved myself throughout school because my sister was the rebellious child and my parents expected me to be good. I went to University because my family wanted me to go and be successful, not because I wanted to. I studied History because I originally loved it and so did my Nanna, but then she realised I didn't want to be a History teacher and she grew disappointed too. I've made all these choices and shaped my life around all these expectations and what I'm left with is nothing I originally wanted and absolutely no aspirations of my own. I've missed out on all the things other people my age have already done, all those relationships and stories they can tell, but I can't because it wasn't right of me to do those things when I was expected to be such a prim and proper person. I'm not saying I wasn't true to myself, I always wore what I wanted, listened to musicians who inspired me and picked my own influences, but my main choices were made for me. Maybe that's why I'm in such a mess now, I have no one to make my choices and I'm much better at managing other people and their problems than I am at managing myself.

This week I just wanted some sort of answer. I wanted to know where I was going. I wanted some sort of epiphany or talent that would take me somewhere. Instead I realised I had absolutely nothing, apart from my family and a few close friends, I have nothing of value to offer anyone. It's a terrible thing to rely on other people for your own happiness. I realised this, I bother people too much. I had some sort of moment of clarity when I realised that ending this, whatever this is, was the only thing I could choose for myself. I went from being so completely surrounded by darkness into somewhere brighter, just at the thought that I would never have to worry again. I wrote out all these notes and letters, not suicide notes, just notes of gratitude to everyone that I thought was significant in my life but who I had never gotten to thank. I wrote one to an art teacher I had whose kindness used to make me cry, another to one of my history teachers who I was always a bitch to and said something nasty to, something I still regret three years later. I wanted to thank him while I had the chance because he was actually amazing, perhaps a tad intimidating though. So I wrote out all these notes and they were heartfelt and genuine and I wrote them with feeling, like they would be my last ever words and my last chance to let them know how much I valued their impact on my life. When I woke up the next day, I was completely devastated. All my despair returned, all the things I wrote still sat there and I still can't touch them now. It's a bit like being tortured by some sort of mirage you see in the distance and as soon as you brush your fingertips against it, it just slips away again.

I spent hours and hours today just worrying and crying. I'll probably do the same tomorrow and the day after that, because there is no point to my life at the moment. There's nothing I want to achieve, there's nothing I want to do, I just want peace and some ending. I don't want to disappoint people but I don't want to be the same person. I've gone too far now though and I can't change anymore. I can't be bothered competing in a world full of people and I can't be bothered pretending to enjoy life. My father wrote on my birthday card last week that I should "love life" and all I could think of was that yes, I really should, but I don't. God I love my friends and my family and I would do anything for them, all I ask is that sometime soon they let me go. I just don't belong here anymore and I can feel it in my heart that these days are limited and those few moments when I laugh or when I smile, they are fewer and farther between. I don't want to leave though and be remembered as this loner, depressed girl, who hated parties and sat by herself. I want my family and my friends to remember how much I loved them and those moments when they made me laugh or smile, they were genuine moments. I want them to know how much their company and their happiness meant to me. Seeing my friends and my family happy has I think, been the highlight and greatest joy of my life.

New age: Same old shit.

"Life is only a dream and we are the imagination of ourselves."
Bill Hicks

One of the things that really struck me reading Stephen Fry's first autobiography Moab Is My Washpot, was the letter he wrote for his future self (for when he was 25), as a seventeen year old teen, who would later attempt suicide. Now this letter stuck for me two main reasons, it was slightly presumptuous, you don't know if you'll actually be alive to read it (suicide attempts generally shorten those odds) and the fact that this letter was so moving. He described a complete transformation from teen to adult, from thoughts of freedom and idealism to the banal mind of an adult. 

The reason I'm reproducing my thoughts about this letter now, is because it is the eve of my 21st birthday. The age of majority and "adulthood," whatever that means. I'm still trying to work it all out. The thought of writing a letter to myself doesn't appeal to me at all, but Fry's reasons behind writing it do. The realisation that everything you think is so significant and important to you now, may not be the case in the future, as life generally wears you down, is terrifying really. Does that mean 5 years from now, when I hopefully have some sort of career, I won't be as passionate about certain ideas or people, like the words of Bill Hicks? Hopefully this isn't the case, because that would kill me. I can't imagine a 9-5 job, debt and general weariness as being the ideal life for me. At least Fry did escape this, in my opinion anyway, he still seems as passionate about life as ever.

Turning 21 still doesn't sound that fun though. I typically don't care much for birthdays, other people's births I will celebrate, my own I won't. Personally it's all a bit hyped up and we should actually be thanking our parents on the day of our birth, our mothers especially, they did do all the work. I've also had absolutely no luck on the 22nd of November, it marks the anniversary of JFK's assassination, Michael Hutchence's death and the day each year I am very disappointed with life and stuck listening to INXS, with some JFK documentary on in the background. Anticipation of the day, I think, is better than the day itself. 

My plans for the coming year though, well, they're quite limited. I don't really have any aspirations or dreams, apart from travelling the world and discovering some form of enlightenment. As for a career, I'm stumped. I've never really shown an aptitude for any particular career path or skill. I do lack talent, but am lucky enough to be surrounded by talented friends. I think that sort of makes up for it. Maybe the reason I'm so dreading turning 21 is that, now that I have finished University, people are expecting me to pursue some dream career and in the case of my family, settle down and start a family as soon as possible. The latter expectation may be put on hold indefinitely, I don't see it ever happening. The first part though, that I should really start working on.

So I guess it's goodbye teens and being part of the weird inbetweener group. Twenty wasn't that great an age anyway, or possibly it was average and external events ruined and tarnished it for me. All I know is I won't look back on being twenty with fondness. Maybe this year can be better? I hope so, I doubt it though.

21 - it's probably going to suck. Let's wait and see. 

I had to end with my favourite quote from Bill Hicks. I hope I do always cherish his ideas.

"The world is like a ride in an amusement park, and when you choose to go on it you think it's real because that's how powerful our minds are. The ride goes up and down, around and around, it has thrills and chills, and it's very brightly colored, and it's very loud, and it's fun for a while. Many people have been on the ride a long time, and they begin to wonder, "Hey, is this real, or is this just a ride?" And other people have remembered, and they come back to us and say, "Hey, don't worry; don't be afraid, ever, because this is just a ride." And we … kill those people. "Shut him up! I've got a lot invested in this ride, shut him up! Look at my furrows of worry, look at my big bank account, and my family. This has to be real." It's just a ride. But we always kill the good guys who try and tell us that, you ever notice that? And let the demons run amok … But it doesn't matter, because it's just a ride. And we can change it any time we want. It's only a choice. No effort, no work, no job, no savings of money. Just a simple choice, right now, between fear and love. The eyes of fear want you to put bigger locks on your doors, buy guns, close yourself off. The eyes of love instead see all of us as one."
Bill Hicks

Open relationships: Open to criticism.

Blogging today about relationships seems so over done and dull, but it's not exactly conventional relationships I'm musing on. I very recently entered a relationship with someone, obviously. Now this person is absolutely brilliant, very smart, very funny and completely out of my league, but we have quite a connection. That's important to note once I get to the response I've gotten from being in this relationship.

So this guy is a sweetheart really. Absolutely perfect even with his imperfections. I met him overseas and since then we have Skyped, texted and called each other frequently. I ended up getting propositioned and agreed. So that's the beginning of the complexities of our relationship, long distance. Personally, it doesn't bother me at all. Physical desire is one thing, but to lust after someone's mind and soul is quite another. For me, attraction usually involves those latter elements, I don't really focus on the physical until much later.

Obviously I was overjoyed at being paired with someone so brilliant and above me, I was smiling for days. However, there's a bit of a twist. You see, this relationship involves another lovely woman, who was once this guy's girlfriend. An open relationship it is. That sounds kind of bizarre, but he was open and honest about their "friends with benefits" partnership and frankly, I have no reason not to believe him. He asked me if that was okay, with the possibility of other women being involved, and after quite a few drinks I agreed.

There are benefits to this sort of relationship, no matter what people generally believe. There is honesty, affection and tolerance, which is very important. I think the biggest aspect is compromise though. I can compromise on this because I do feel quite guilty about being here while he's over there. Most importantly though, the other woman or possibly, women,  are people who can offer things I can't and maybe it's the distraction I'm after. I like a certain amount of distance to be honest, I can't reveal everything about myself except to the closest of friends, maybe they can. It also disguises a lot of my imperfections for the foreseeable future. Not that I'm lying to him, but I'm never completely myself around people I fancy a lot, it gets too personal that way. I can't do that.

I have had to deal with a wide variety of reactions to my relationship though, mostly negative ones. I can understand people who think it's quite wrong for one person to have another and myself to be faithful, but those people are dead wrong. We're both faithful and I'm not a complete idiot. If I can deal with it, other people can suck it up. The worst response though were people who assume you have to be physically near someone to be in a relationship. I think some people need to control themselves, I just do not care that much for physicality anyway. Besides, I'm not expecting a long-term romance or something life-changing to occur, but I will settle with what I'm offered. People like to feel wanted sometimes.

Basically the sum of all this is just to say open relationships can work (I hope so anyway) and aren't all bad. Would I prefer not to be in one? Yes, but we all have to make sacrifices. I never thought I would be a part of one, I'm much too shy to do these sorts of things, so I'm not going to go out and find somebody else on the side, I couldn't do that, but I have only a few problems with someone that does. Not that I'll tell him that, he's happy and he's lovely and the most important thing, he actually fancies me too. That's different and because of that, the other details I can ignore.

Death is inevitable, but kindness is immortal.

"What we have done for ourselves alone dies with us; what we have done for others and the world remains and is immortal."
Albert Pike

Talking about death to any living human being is a certain way to end any conversation. It's like the Police showing up at your house when you're having an awesome party, unless no one showed up, then you're grateful for any social interaction. I'm not saying the Police are the physical equivalent of death, it just so happens that there are negative connotations attached to that particular career choice. I didn't start it, society has spoken.

What has always confused me, ever since I could properly comprehend what death actually is, was why people didn't ever want to talk about it. Whenever I try and approach the topic with other people, they call me morbid or depressive. That bugs me. I'm not purposely being morbid, I don't consider it a depressing subject at all. Just because the majority of people are so determined to ignore death until they can't any longer, is not my problem. Ignorance may be bliss, but in this case ignorance is more like religion and bliss is only a self-sustained faith that eventually dies because that is what people and ideas do, they die. There, I've said it. We are all going to die.

And if we are all going to die anyway, shouldn't we all just enjoy ourselves? People tell me to stop smoking, it's going to give me cancer. To them I say everyone has their vices, it's how we know we're still alive. The problem is that people don't want to die, well, more specifically they want to prolong the inevitable. I can understand that, I won't jump on the bandwagon of trying to live for a century, but I can understand the logic of it. Who wouldn't want to live until they're at the age when they can't do most things for themselves and their independence and self respect are almost completely gone? It sounds amazing.

Just because some people have realised that if they live healthy and respectable lives they can live longer, doesn't mean that we all have to live that way or die that way. Actually, does it really matter  how a person dies at all? If someone lives a happy and healthy life and then dies in a tragic way, is that worse than an alcoholic who has drank themselves to death? I don't think people should even try and measure how much someone deserves to live, because I don't really believe anyone deserves to die, nature will cut us off when it is our time. Even the worst criminals, the lowest of the low, shouldn't be put to death for their crimes. I don't believe in Capital Punishment because that's just an eye for an eye isn't it? It doesn't even undo what the person has done, it just degrades the living into taking another unnecessary life.

Apart from my semi-political ramblings, what I really wanted to say is that we really shouldn't fear death. We shouldn't avoid talking about it because everyone thinks it's a tad depressing. That's just a person's perspective and for me it isn't so bad. I hope I last for however long it takes me to make some sort of impact on people's lives or to make sure that the people I love are truly happy. Following Pike's argument, if we make a difference to someone else's life, if we make someone laugh, if we help a stranger or just do what everyone is capable of doing, then will death be so depressing? You can die completely unburdened and safe with the knowledge that you actually made some small difference and you won't be forgotten. I think that is what people fear the most perhaps, being forgotten in a world with millions of people. Maybe that is why people choose to breed, I don't actually know, I'm not currently a breeder. What I do know is that I've never forgotten the old lady who used to give me lollies and hugs when I was very small. She lived alone, down the street from me. I've never forgotten her small acts of kindness every time we met and walking past her old house now, as a twenty year old adult, I still have fond memories. Those memories prove that kindness and the impact you have on other people will always keep you alive in a way. People will never have to worry about being forgotten so long as they can touch someone else while they're alive. That is the purpose of our lives I think.

Sex: It belongs in the bedroom, not on the street.

I'm sick to death of hearing about people's sexual exploits. I'm sick to death of hearing about people's partners or one night stands. Most of all, I'm sick to death about some of the slack single people get when they're not talking about sex or actively pursuing it.

Bit harsh, I know. The problem is that I'm 20, so most of my friends are around my age and go on and on about this sort of nonsense. What happened to the days when what went on in the bedroom, stayed in the bedroom? I blame Salt-n-Pepa, with that ridiculously catchy song 'let's talk about sex.' I'm all for discussing it when it's to do with our health or promoting awareness of particular infections and diseases. I'm not all for it when it's just for shameless self-promotion or boasting. Honestly, am I supposed to be impressed that someone has slept with so many people? I'm also not impressed that they can perform particular acts, especially when it is brought up in conversation over dinner.

I'm sure everyone encounters this problem at some point in their lives, the friends that constantly fall in and out of love. I think they're just in love with being in love, honestly, it gets tiring after a while. Or when you go out with your friends and they bring their partners. That doesn't bother me at all, until they spend all evening just chatting amongst themselves instead of partaking in conversation as an individual. That seriously bugs me for two reasons. 1. It's downright rude to ignore people when you have invited them out. 2. Being in a relationship does not mean you have to merge into one entity, it's just weird when you can't be yourself. 

The most aggravating thing for me though, with this constant sex craze going on, is people's correlation between being single and being lonely. It's completely unfounded and not very well thought out. For instance, a lot of my female friends always joke when we go out, that I should chat up the bartender or some other guy there. It's funny to start with. It's not at all funny if it occurs every single time you go out. Being single does not mean I'm lonely, just like being alone does not mean you're lonely and I spend a lot of time alone. When I do get lonely or depression gets the better of me, I text friends, call someone or message friends on Facebook. That's when I'm lonely and I'm actually starting to cease doing that, because I think I downright annoy people most of the time. Anyway, I'm not looking for some one night stand, in fact, I'm being incredibly patient. I'd rather wait for the right person and have something meaningful, even if it is short-lived, rather than something based on just physical attraction. That's just shallow and to be frank, I don't particularly find physical attributes to be attractive. I'm much more inclined to fall in love with someone's mind, which I have on a few occasions, one such case still lasting until this very day, than I am to fall in love with someone's physique. I do love glasses though. Bit of a kink.

So can we please stop with all the raging hormones and sex talk? I honestly don't care for it and I doubt most people do. I'm not saying let's all be really repressed and 'do it for England,' but at least a century ago we maintained the facade that these sorts of things were private. What people get up to really shouldn't be broadcasted as much as it is now and it makes for terribly dull conversation if someone (me) isn't interested in the topic. Let's all just keep a lid on it. 

In all disorder, a secret order.

Maybe it's the sheer amount of numbers that has you thinking about it.

You think about things you shouldn't be thinking about anymore. Like the metal held between your fingers. It's so heavy, even without any additions. You don't think you could bear the weight of it a second longer or the taste of metal in your mouth.

You get a tired look in response to your fiddling and you think for a moment, why bother with the instrument. How many numbers did they fit inside your blood?

*

You go through days of bitter cold and hazy recollections. Days meld. You wake up with numbers in your head and the weight in your chest and the cold adds to the mass. It's always long hours which could be added and subtracted. Add a blanket and another and another. Layering yourself with more clothes, when the ice in your veins seems too blue, the skin above it too thin to shield you.

And the weight and the numbers swirl inside your head, until it aches and you have no where to go and no way to make it stop. You can't keep out the cold and you can't block out the numbers, but the sharpness of hipbones and the reassuring presence of your rib cage are comforts. Their weight is measurable and true.

*

You were at first just a glutton. You would buy food, resting it between your palms, feeling the weight of it. The smell, the taste only imagined, but the weight of it was too heavy. It became too daunting, so you threw it away before it had the chance to get stuck inside your head.  There isn't enough room for that weight and you know, there isn't enough sanity left to add it up.

You baked cupcakes. Adding each ingredient carefully and only after it was weighed. You waited patiently, but fiddled with the boxes on the counter. Then they were done and you decorated them, lined them up and then put them on plates at the vacant table. It wasn't long before they were crushed, thrown out windows, into garbage bags or even ripped apart into something that just would not go down the drain. The bulk of it was only a stopper which blocked it up.

But sometimes you didn't seek to destroy, you just left them. Waiting until they were disgusting, untouchable and completely unrecognisable. You imagined them broken down, adding to the weight and the numbers, until you felt you couldn't breathe. They were gone the next time you looked.

*

When you went so long without any food, it made you ache and plead, but the numbers went away.

"Why don't you eat?" That wouldn't have been asked years ago.

You thought about it for a while and you thought about the numbers.

"It's an addiction," you said, "it turns into something you do over and over again, until you have to keep having it, because if you don't you could lose it all."

But you had already lost it all, apart from your constant companions.

*

You used to love sweets. Sweets and chocolate and whatever Nan made you. Whenever you went to her house, there would be choices and more choices, weight and more numbers, but they had never bothered you then. No one ever bothered you then. The numbers just slid down your throat without resistance and you barely recognised the heaviness that settled inside. Now the thought of it is terrifying. How can people carry so much? It's almost enough to drown you now.

You didn't go and see Nan much anymore, nor did you spend your time picking up sweets.

You knew at some point, you had to have eaten before. That this weight was not always present. You can't remember it clearly though. Somewhere along the line you lost whatever it was that anchored you down and kept the heaviness at bay.

Now it was just too much.

*

"You have to get up, you can't just stay in bed."

"But it's so cold out there. Why can't I just stay here?" The buzzing in your head and the pain in your stomach made the thought of leaving unbearable.

Even as she sat at the end of your bed and just stared, it did little to comfort you from the overwhelming cold and the shivers that could only be kept inside and not shared.

"Why do I ever have to get up at all?" Everything was just numbers and cold and pain. Coming and going never changed that. There was no distraction to push that away.

"You know why."

You closed your eyes. The dotted lights amongst the black underneath were comforting. You wish you didn't know why.

*

Some days everything was okay again.

You looked in the mirror, you dressed yourself up, but with no intention to go out. The sharp angles that had replaced the softness, with your ribs and your hipbones proudly on display. You still had that fat that reminded you of the presence of numbers and of those people with less numbers. There was always someone with less. Some days when you went out you looked at those people and wondered how they managed that. How did they ignore the heaviness of the metal in their hands? Why were they so blessed? At least they gave you something to strive towards.

And when the first feelings of fullness hit you, it was a buzzing in your head and a quickened beat of your heart that reminded you, you hadn't died. But everything was too fast and suddenly your make up was no longer so bright or attractive.

How many calories does your blood have? The metal in your hands much lighter than anything that was hidden in the kitchen. When you spent the night lying on the floor you thought of the loss of calories down your leg and started recounting your numbers.

*

You sat on the bus and thought about metal and about weight. The heavy metal in your mouth and the cold glass against your cheek. Your skin was frozen and marred with blue which clearly ran up your arms. You imagined scrubbing the blue away, over and over, until it came off. It never did come off but the added red was so warm and you were so cold.

*

"It's going to be okay." You spoke to yourself, long after everyone had left or cared anymore.

You listened to your own breathing, you could feel the frost settle in your chest once more. You waited to hear any sounds or breathing from the other rooms. There was no sound. There was no response. There was only the insomniac's ritual of counting over and over, including those little, white pills by your side. You counted 22.

Not long later there would be hospital beds, made up of stark white sheets, that did little to bring you warmth. The blue had to stay and the red locked away, feeling ever more heavy without any release.  There were lights that were too bright and voices that seemed too far away. While you knew it had something to do with you, the cold drip in your arm reminded you that it would never be so easy to live with the numbers again.

You stayed on the floor some days later. You thought of numbers and the metallic taste in your mouth and wondered if you would ever find out how many numbers they poisoned you with. But for now you were content with the red and the weight in your hands had never been so light before.

The Two Tragedies in Life: Broken Dreams and Lawyers.

I think one of the problems with society today is our focus on creating unachievable goals for ourselves. I'm not saying goals are a bad thing, they can give direction and encourage certain types of people, but making unrealistic goals is a problem.

We're all basically told that success is definable by measuring our wealth or the status of our careers. For example, in my family it was always suggested marrying someone who was a Doctor or a Lawyer (shudder) was considered beneficial and it was encouraged to seek these types of people out. As a history student, I do find it amusing to see how little things have changed over the centuries. Despite modern claims that we are increasingly progressive socially, we still consider these types of careers as belonging to a certain section of our societies. To belong to the medical field you must be talented and knowledgable (apparently), but people who are artists or work in "ordinary" jobs like retail, are considered either talentless or lazy. Now I will admit, you do sometimes look at older people working in stores and wonder if that was actually what they wanted to do, or if they just never left because they had no other career prospects. At least I used to think that way, until I actually began working in the retail sector and met so many individuals who were extremely talented and intelligent and loved their jobs. So my assumptions were completely unfounded it seems, at least in those cases.

I've deviated from my original point though (and my Professor thinks I lack focus, ha!), that is of our unrealistic expectations and goals for our lives. I'm writing about this because it is highly important in my life at the moment. Today I got a rather scathing email for the aforementioned Professor, saying that my essay was basically dreadful and that I shouldn't even attempt to do Honours. Okay, fair point sir, but not very polite. Honours seem to be just what the name implies, honoured or favoured, basically it looks good to have Honours attached to your basic Bachelor of Arts degree. I've realised though, although it may look very good to potential employers, it's completely unrealistic to think everyone is capable of undertaking Honours and writing a thesis. For me, I know my strengths do not lie in the sort of research and essay writing that a thesis requires. I always need at least some hint of direction, like these blogs, I always go off some initial idea already formed in my head. I don't need to research or ultimately come to a completely formed conclusion in my blog, I just write what I think or what I feel. That's the kind of writing I love.

So maybe I have fallen into the trap of setting goals for myself that are not suitable or right for me. I wanted to do Honours because I thought that other people would think it looked good, I didn't want to do it for me or because I was legitimately passionate about undertaking another year of study. I've always despaired over the fact that some of my friends are only undertaking certain degrees, like medicine, because their parents told them to do it or because they think they will ultimately make a lot of money out of it and be financially secure. Even thinking that, I've still almost attempted to do the same thing. I deliberately chose to study history because I was passionate about it, at least when I started University I was, but now it seems I'm making so many decisions based on assumptions or other people's wants. That just goes to show that parents do not always know best and that really, you know what you're truly capable of. There is no point lying to yourself.

I have to practice what I preach, so I'm going to make a new goal in my life. My new goal is not to make unsuitable or unrealistic goals. I won't say I am going to quit smoking overnight, I won't say I am going to lose 6 kilos before my birthday (though I will try hard at that) and I certainly won't attempt to apply for jobs I know in my heart I would hate or be dreadful at, just because they happen to be respected in our society. I'm not talented in anyway, I can easily admit that. The only thing I have ever wanted to do since I was three years old and used to write terrible horror stories for my Nanna, was to write. I don't have a journalism degree and I certainly wouldn't want to, but it's the only thing I know with absolute certainty, that I would never grow to hate or grow bored with. It has been a love affair lasting almost 18 years, which is basically my entire life and I don't think that will ever change.

Maybe it's time we do away with goals. Most of the goals we set seem to be socially encouraged anyway, with little adaptation to our own lives. I think we could take this further and just encourage people to go for what they are passionate about, to respect all different careers, no matter if they're lower on the socio-economic scale and to just be ourselves really. I mean, if you're going to spend the rest of your life working purely for wealth, why be a lawyer or accountant? You could be a rock star! Maybe people would take you seriously then.

Time to hang up the hang-ups? Or not.

"I am afraid to show you who I really am, because if I show you who I really am, you might not like it and that's all I got."
Sabrina Ward Harrison

I went to an old school friend's 21st birthday party yesterday, I went and I was a complete mess on the inside. I'm not good with parties, I never know what to do. There is no manual for social interactions such as birthday parties (disregarding "self-help" books). I'm actually thinking I should cash in on that gap in the market. I would never buy it, but I'm sure some idiot would, the market has spoken! So anyway, despite my poor social skills and the fact I was surrounded by old school acquaintances, that was not the biggest problem.

Everything comes back to this idea of having too many hang ups about myself and my expectations of other people. For example, my main fear of going to this party was not so much the socialising (big factor though), it was because of what I was wearing. For occasions such as these, it is expected of females to put in that extra effort, pull out the heels you cannot possibly walk normally in and doll yourself up in a tight and revealing dress. Okay, so maybe I don't go for the revealing part of that equation, but I did for the first time actually wear a tight dress. I really regret doing so for two reasons. 1. I'm too fat and broad to wear it, with no cleavage. 2. It attracts attention. Bad attention. There is nothing worse for someone like me, then walking around a room and feeling as though people are looking at you and judging. Everyone does it, we all judge people, I know. The tight dress is just a neat example of my hang ups, all rolled up into one little black dress. 

This idea of having too many hang ups isn't news to me. It has been brought to my attention that I have an irritating ability of turning everything positive into a negative. Friends will give me a compliment and at first, of course I am suspicious, I'm always suspicious. After the suspicion has faded and I have worked out there is no ulterior motive for the compliment, I dismiss it. For example a friend will say, "George, you look lovely!" My response is always something like "You're either blind, intoxicated or you need medical attention, quick!" Of course there is always the friend's response, "don't be so negative Georgie," and I reply "I'm not negative, I'm a realist." Realistically screwed up is more like it. The thing that gets me every time though, is the fact people seem to think they have made some sort of revelation, that I may have issues. No. I'm quite aware of the fact I'm unable to take compliments, criticisms (especially criticisms) or "friendly" suggestions. Rather bizarrely, I have noticed it's always my male friends who will argue or try and change my opinion. Female friends just sigh dramatically and shake their heads. The latter response is quite dull, but I'm happy with it. The former is always more interesting, albeit generally pointless, my arguments can be circular or cutting at times.

So all of this got me thinking, I'm turning 21 soon enough (too soon) and maybe it is time to learn how to accept a compliment, you know, without wanting to interrogate or stare someone down? Or maybe I should stop overanalysing what people may or may not be thinking? I can't really know. It could be because I always expect the worst of people, which I still say is for the best. If you expect the worst then there will never be any disappointment, which means no pain (well, little to no pain). Holding people to certain expectations has only ever caused me pain, but my own expectations for myself are the worst and those aren't ever going to change. Why would I set lower goals for myself? People don't think enough about the long-term consequences of their actions anymore. They really should. 

Maybe I just need some sort of epiphany or something miraculous to happen in my life? To completely blow my mind away and erase all worries about how I look, how I'm perceived and whether or not people like me (sarcasm shields me from that anyway). It's not so easy to change well-informed opinions about yourself, but I suppose I can always try harder, not just try. I've been trying for years, even if people don't believe me because there is no outward change, but I have been. Hurdles are a big problem in life, especially if you have short legs. I could never be an upbeat, knock on your door type person, but I could be just a tad less suspicious and open to new experiences. I might try that. 

So you see, I'm getting a bit too old to be starving (literally and socially) and I'm far too young not to be enjoying life just because I'm too frightened to be 100% myself in front of people. That's probably my biggest "hang up," myself or rather, not liking myself. Of course it's not just not liking myself, it's also not liking myself in front of others or fear of rejection is probably more accurate (I'm really not good with rejection). Is this the way I want my life to be? Of course not, but to me the alternative is even more terrifying. Fear and suspicion may seem to be bad, but really they keep you vigilant against others, they make you harder and I really need all the protection I can get. I'm all for love and peace on a global and social level, but internally I'm holding on to that fear. Openness and optimism are my Kryptonite. 

Thoughts from the heart.

You know what I am absolutely, sick to death of? Being treated like nothing or less than nothing, by people who are SUPPOSED to care. My family and friends mean the world to me, but after much reflection and based on current events and let's face it, my entire past, I have realised that it must not be a mutual feeling.

There are two traits I admire above all others, honesty and loyalty. I'm not being arrogant when I say I am a loyal person, because I am and that's all I want to be. Family is forever, they're not just people you share a name with or genetics. You're supposed to care about each other and love each other unconditionally, which has been a main source of tension in my family. They don't seem to be able to love someone UNCONDITIONALLY. If you can't do that then surely it's not love? It would be just putting up with someone because you know you're supposed to, but that's not love. That's not even tolerance, because they still detest everything about me that makes me the person I am. From my appearance, to my beliefs and morals, to my more liberal ideas, they can't stand them. If they can't even bother to try and understand me, then I don't understand why I continue to love them. Maybe I'm just a masochist, but it is torturous to try over and over to get people to love you, when it seems to be a pointless task. You can't just love someone when you feel like it or when they do something which benefits you. That is just hurtful and the person knows that your love is conditional (trust me, they know) and I don't see the point of dragging people along in your life when you don't genuinely care for them. Just cut them off. However, if that is the action chosen, then it will be me being cut off, not them, because I do love them.

It's not just my family either. I've realised that some people I thought were friends were more like part-time friends. People that see me occasionally (when they feel like it), put up with me and then I don't hear another word from them until they apparently need help with something or want something. The most ridiculous part of this cycle is that I go along with it. I accept the fact that they only want to be my friend when they need something and I leap at the bloody chance, because I have to! What else am I going to do when my friends suddenly don't feel I'm worthwhile anymore to have around? When they can find someone better to replace me with. I'll admit, sometimes I'm overly generous with friends because I don't want them to go, I don't want them to find someone to replace me with. Maybe that sounds pitiful but it's honest. I know I'm not the easiest person to put up with, to befriend because I'm awkward or to love (obviously), but I do try to make myself into someone that people want to talk to.

All I know is that I'm so very tired of having my feelings and worth as a human being, trampled over without a second thought. I don't want people to tolerate me, I want people to genuinely want to be my friend or to love me for who I am. I can't spend the rest of my life feeling like I'm in a marathon against the rest of the world and that every person who passes me will replace me. If my family don't want to accept me that's fine, well it's not, but I'll get over it. If my friends don't actually want to be my friend then that's the same thing. I just can't be the only one trying all the time. I just can't anymore.

The Art Of Getting Everything You Don't Want.

I haven't updated in a while, I haven't been busy, just neglectful. So here is my blog post about getting everything you DON'T want and the way I went about it.

1. Short-term friendships

There is absolutely no point in forming short-term friendships in my opinion. Everyone I made friends with in school is still my friend. That could be because I don't trust people easily or generally because I don't in fact, like people much at all. So how do you get short-term friends you wonder? Well, it's easy. You can do this by joining a group and creating a 'friendship' based on some ridiculous lie or mutual interest in a band you have actually never heard of. These methods tend to work throughout high school and University and can last from about 8-12 weeks. That's enough time to be seen having a friend before you can move on to the next victim. Remember, if you're going to form a friendship based on lies, be outlandish and inventive! I've had some of the worst ones thrown at me (though I didn't know it at the time) and although I think those people are now complete jerks, at least they were creative. Kudos to them. 

2. Have people think you're a pushover (and then becoming one)

This would be difficult for the more charismatic people amongst us, but not for me. I'm naturally shy and quiet around strangers, definitely introverted and for some reason that leads people to believe you will do whatever they say. For me this only extended to some of my friends and my elder sister. My sister has a way of making you feel guilty (more on that later) for not doing what she wants and she's very good at this particular act of manipulation. Most of my teenage years were spent bailing my sister out of trouble with my parents or even strangers sometimes. This is probably why I was so outwardly defensive to other people outside of my friends and family group, like my teachers or my peers. So if you want to actually be a pushover, just do whatever you're told and keep telling yourself it's for the best. That can last up to 5 years if you do it well. 

3. Being thin and depressed

I have a wealth of knowledge on this particular topic. To be thin and depressed all you have to do is have absolutely no self-esteem and to be told you're worthless countless times, then you'll start believing it. You will do whatever it takes to prove people otherwise and that is a great motivation for starving yourself, until you can't ever look at soup the same way again. I haven't been able to go near soup in years. This starvation will also increase depression or create it, if you're not already there. There are some repercussions though, starving also leads to isolating yourself from the outside world, not being able to go out socially with friends and having no life outside of food. Also, hospital visits are common. This starved way of life can last for a while, until you run out of energy or life to keep going. The psychological effects and depression can last a life time. 

4. Having an unhealthy amount of guilt

Back to guilt. If you were raised Catholic, you already have an inbuilt sense of guilt for everything you have ever done. If not, you just need to be blamed for everything that goes wrong in your parent's lives. After a while guilt becomes second nature, it motivates you not to do certain things, or more likely, to do everything people ask you to do if they complain enough. This isn't like being a pushover, this is just staying alive to serve other people's emotional manipulations. Guilt lasts a lifetime. 

5. Being lonely.

Being lonely is not the same as being alone. If you are skilled at feeling lonely, you could be at a party or anywhere surrounded by people and you will feel completely lonely. It's like being detached from everything going on around you, you really need to work at it. The ways in which I came to be lonely, fairly frequently, was by mainly living in my head. I tend to overanalyse things until I think I am legitimately insane, replaying conversations and memories over and over again. You also find yourself increasingly lonely if you have nothing to say to other people. I don't see the point in making small talk, so if I have nothing to say, I say nothing at all. Cut out the small talk and avoid people, that's a sure way to feel lonely.

So those are my top five tips at getting everything out of life that you don't really want, but you may end up doing. Regret is probably number six. 

I set new words unto an old refrain.

"Life goes on, within you and without you."
The Beatles

It is truly a devastating moment when you realise, that no matter how hard you try, you will never live up to other people's expectations. The more rational person would say that you should not live your life trying to please other people, that you should live for your own happiness. I'd like to consider myself a rational person and I would say that it really is not easy to shrug off other people's opinions. I could care less about what people think of the clothes I wear, the things I do, but I can't stand living with the knowledge that I've let someone down. I have though, my family especially, I can't be what they want me to be. They expect someone pure, intelligent and successful, someone who is going places. I'm just not that person, but there is no one else I can shift these expectations off to and truly I wouldn't wish them on anyone I know.

There are a few instances in my life when I truly believed I had achieved something, only for that moment to be ruined by someone or by myself. When I received my HSC results I was in London and was quite pleased, until I got home and was told promptly by my father that I could have done better, if only I hadn't made myself so sick. "If only," that should be inscribed on my tombstone. Again, after my first semester at University when I thought I had been doing fine, only to discover that compared to my friends I had done so poorly. I'm still doing quite poorly, but I gave up on trying for my degree a long time ago. Aside from scholarly pursuits, in life I measure up even worse. Constantly being compared to your very beautiful, very thin and very social sister is never easy. I refuse to even try and compete with her anymore, she's much more than I could ever be. I'll always be the black sheep of the family; the quiet one in the corner or the weird one, who constantly argues against racism and homophobia (so I must be a lesbian!), I'll never be the golden child. I'm not sure I would want to be.

It's so very hard to know what people want from you, but it's even harder to realise you can't deliver. I'm not smart enough, I'm not pretty or social enough and I never will be. When you realise you have failed so early in life, you develop some way to cope with the overwhelming sense of despair. I've always had a sort of masochistic streak (only towards myself), a belief that I deserved some sort of punishment for failing. It would be crazy of me to go out and ask someone to hurt me for being so lousy, so it always ends up being me who does the punishing. Whether it be dieting to the extreme, closing myself off from people or other more harmful means, I've always known that I deserved everything I have done to myself. Although I may not have deserved everything other people have done to me, it's more comforting for me to believe I did something to deserve being treated so poorly, than to accept the fact someone has hurt me just for the sake of it, because they could.

I am truly a sensitive person. By sensitive, I mean I'm like a sponge. I absorb what people say about me, how they feel about me and what they expect of me. I'm not someone who can just forget about an argument or an insult, I have a terrible habit of replaying these sorts of things on a loop in my head for days. It's always the people you care about the most who can hurt you the worst and perhaps it's because I love them so much, that I can never forgive or forget what they have said. If only I could switch my mind off, life would be so much easier.

So I am a living embodiment of disappointment for my family. I'm proof that a person can in fact live carrying around that knowledge and still function, barely. If I have to punish myself, more than any person ever has, then it is because of this. I can't function and still attempt to try if I am not punished for my failures, the only reason I would try again, just to give myself some time before I fall inevitably back into despair.

I know that most people can get themselves back up again without the need to hurt themselves or avoid the rest of the world, but I can't and I'm sorry. If only trying was good enough, maybe then I would be good enough.

“CURSE thee, Life, I will live with thee no more!
Thou hast mocked me, starved me, beat my body sore!
And all for a pledge that was not pledged by me,
I have kissed thy crust and eaten sparingly
That I might eat again, and met thy sneers
With deprecations, and thy blows with tears,—
Aye, from thy glutted lash, glad, crawled away,
As if spent passion were a holiday!
And now I go. Nor threat, nor easy vow
Of tardy kindness can avail thee now
With me, whence fear and faith alike are flown;
Lonely I came, and I depart alone,
And know not where nor unto whom I go;
But that thou canst not follow me I know.” Edna St. Vincent Millay

Music: God only knows what I'd be without you.

Music is perhaps the biggest love of my life and that will never change. From the time I wake up in the morning, to the time when I fall asleep (usually in the early hours of the morning) I have spent hours listening to music. It's my constant companion, even more so than my depression, feelings or the people in my life. Everything else can come and go, but you will always have music from decades ago to make you feel connected to people you have never met or a time when you never existed. I believe my discovery of the Beatles is the most religious experience of my life, because it changed my perception of people, time and what kind of person I was. Music has the power to do all those things.

Everyone has songs which they love to listen to at certain times, music has that ability to adapt to any situation. For me, my feelings at any particular time will always influence what I choose to listen to, but at the same time, music will always answer back to me and change what I feel. That's what music is to me, it's my motivator, my way of expressing to the world how I feel when words fail me. It's like reading a novel and suddenly realising that this person you have never met, has written in words what you have felt your whole life but could never express with words. You always remember those experiences, because they change you.


For every important instance in my life, I remember it not through dates or by the actions of people, but by the music I heard on that day. It's a bizarre way to measure your memories, but it has always been my way. I remember picking up my sister from school with my mum, listening to the Cranberries and Oasis (it was the 90s) and I know that I was content and calm. When I was at my cousin's 7th birthday in Queensland and we listened to Aqua's new album and I was happy, because we danced all day and all sung rather poorly. When my parents separated and all my Dad would listen to (for the next few years) was Bruce Springsteen's album Born In The USA and U2's hit With or Without You, I knew my father was angry and hurt and I felt that through his music.

The lyrics, the chords and the changing rhythms of songs are perhaps the best expression of human emotions, far more reliable and expressive than words, and are something that we can universally understand. I know that the people closest to me can judge my mood based upon what I listen to, from being happy and energetic listening to The Beatles, to being sad and withdrawn when I listen to any track by The Velvet Underground (especially Pale Blue Eyes and I'm Set Free). Angelou said that 'music was my refuge, I could crawl into the space between the notes and curl my back to loneliness,' and that resonates in my own life, because that is exactly what I do. Music offers a refuge for those of us who don't want to think about life for a while or who want to feel more connected to like-minded people. What I choose to listen to is not random and is a way of telling the rest of the world what I feel, without actually having to do it.

I could not imagine living in a world without any music. I have never met a single person who did not love it (apart from David Mitchell, apparently) and who did not partially base their identity around what they listen to. We define people or label them into a particular group once we understand their tastes, from indie groupies, to hipsters, to metal fans (I would say avoid those if you're faint-hearted), we all fall into some group. I think I would be an oldie, just based purely upon my love of sixties music and that decade in particular.

I'm not a big fan of quoting Nietzsche, but in my opinion he did not write anything more important then when he wrote that 'without music, life would be a mistake.' Life would be a mistake, it would be bland and boring and we would be trapped into using only language to communicate with each other, and we all know that's not the most efficient form of communication. Music opens the mind and the soul to people, to thoughts and ideas which you could never conceive on your own and connects you to the minds and the hearts of people you have never met. I can't think of a more powerful way to unite people, even more influential than any religion on this Earth, because it's the sentimental value, it's the feelings and thoughts we invest into a particular song, which makes it so great and so beautiful.

So whether you are a hardcore Beatles fan like myself, or a Led Zeppelin fan (shudder) or even a fan of  clubbing 'music,' enjoy it to the fullest, don't take people's criticisms to heart (people are idiots) and explore the possibilities it opens for you (not sure clubbing 'music' does this, but each to their own), because at the end of the day you'll always have your music to express yourself, to live with and to be connected with. If anyone has a problem with that, just call them a hipster and tell them where to stick it.

I don't believe in an afterlife, I just believe in me.

"Ask yourself whether the dream of heaven and greatness should be waiting for us in our graves – or whether it should be ours here and now and on this earth." Ayn Rand

"You will notice though that the kind of people who turn to Jesus tend to be the sort of people who haven't done that well with everybody else."  Dylan Moran

There are two subjects which should never be brought up at the dinner table or in polite conversation, politics and religion. I've never been a big supporter of social rules or forced politeness, so I quite enjoy engaging in these conversations with people. It's more stimulating than talking about work or other dull topics, the weather being by far the worst. If you're stuck in a conversation with someone about the weather, bail. Either your partner is obviously dull or you're the bore, either way you should leg it. 

Religion has always been an interest of mine, not because I support it in anyway, but I don't dismiss it either. I'm always fascinated to learn new things and you can learn a lot about someone by knowing their take on certain topics. The majority of my friends are staunch atheists, which is telling, but I do have quite a few friends who are still quite religious and reverent and I have absolutely no problem with that. 

My problem with religion (I'm thinking you knew this was coming) is not so much about the nature of religion itself (to an extent), I can completely understand and rationalise people needing to believe in something (even if I disagree), that's not the issue. My issues are quite particular, certain doctrines and practices which I think are restrictive or using faith as a justification for acts of cruelty. My absolute pet peeve with religion though is when it interferes with my own life, the running of my Government or goes beyond individual belief to converting people. As long as people keep their beliefs to themselves, I'm quite happy. If people want to impose their beliefs on myself or my friends, or say homophobic things in the name their 'God' (their God, not mine they should note) that makes me angry, that I will have a problem with. Luckily for me, in my life I've been surrounded by followers of all different religions, who understand personal boundaries. This is no longer an age where forced conversion is appropriate and for that I am entirely thankful.

I should probably identify my own religious affiliation and it's probably not what you expected. I call myself a CA, a Catholic Atheist. It sounds ridiculous, but it fits perfectly in my life and it does make sense in my head (that doesn't mean much though), but I'll explain myself anyway. I was raised in a Roman Catholic family, going back generations for centuries, so I did all the things I was expected to do like going to Sunday Mass, reading scripture in Church and attending a Catholic Primary School. My morals today and the ethical code I live by were no doubt influenced by the religion I was brought up with, even though I do think my morals are more based on being a good person and should perhaps not be considered intrinsically Christian. These values though, are why I still define myself as a Catholic. No one has the right to tell me I'm not a Catholic just because I don't believe in every aspect, just as I don't bother people about their own religious beliefs. I'm quite safe in labelling myself. As for the Atheist part, that is pretty self explanatory, read the quote by Ayn Rand (brilliant author).

I would rather rest my faith in humanity, with our extensive capabilities to create utter chaos but also be such wonderfully compassionate and inspiring creatures, than to believe in something so intangible and incredible. I don't believe in supernatural conceptions of Heaven and Hell, these are just terms which create barriers on our minds and intelligence (sociology calls it social control), depending on how you conceive them. If you are one of the few who actually believe there is a man in the sky, in this 'Heaven,' and down below us is 'Hell,' than all I can say is good luck to you, Darwinism has obviously failed. Ayn Rand had the right idea I think, all this belief in an afterlife, in being rewarded for doing good deeds on Earth is just limiting. Wouldn't you rather just be a compassionate and moral person while alive because you can be, instead of thinking that you had to be because you will be rewarded for it? That's slightly fraudulent. Why should someone be rewarded for just being a good person? People should spend less time worrying about what happens after they're dead and worry about what kind of a life they are leading now, while they're alive. 

I can't speak for other people, but I'd rather be a good person and know that when I die, at least I made someone happy or did something good in the world. I don't want to believe I will be rewarded after it's all over, I'd much rather live and enjoy the benefits of being alive right now, knowing I was a good person not for the benefits, just because I was.