2013: 5 Key Moments

“Existence is.. well.. what does it matter? I exist on the best terms I can. The past is now part of my future. The present is well out of hand.” 
― Ian Curtis

2013, what a year it has been. My excessive blogging has clued most of you into how the majority of my year went down, 'as it happened' (news programmes love to say that). As such, I don't feel the need to ramble and try to explain each and every occurrence of 2013 - I'll focus mostly on the better parts.

Number One:

Graduation.

I graduated from the University of Sydney, an amazing feat for someone as dopey as myself. I'll admit - I was a bit proud. My parents actually managed to spend time in each other's company for the first time in almost 16 years, quite astounding, and incredibly touching. It made my day, more so than actually becoming a 'graduate', no longer a 'graduand'. I was waiting three long years for that day and it was nothing like I had imagined it would be. It was better, due to my parents both being present. 

That bloody cap was a nightmare! As was the fur thingy.

Number Two:
Masters.

I began my Masters degree. Despite a pretty dreadful beginning, I ended up making two great friends and began to enjoy my classes. I will say to friends who told me a Masters is easier than a Bachelors degree, you lot are bonkers.


Number Three:
Internship.

I got to intern at Verge Gallery. It was challenging and set off my anxiety in the beginning, but it was definitely worth it once completed. I got to experience so much. I learnt new skills, overcame my intense fear of ladders (people should not be above floor level), and most importantly, got to experience art on a daily basis. I didn't have to make time to go to an exhibition, I helped create one. Very rewarding. Challenging, but rewarding nonetheless.


Number Four:
Friends Time & Birthday Surprise

I spent the majority of my year not feeling well enough to see my friends, I even lost a few as a result. Those that I lost, I realise now (took me a while), really didn't matter - not at all. Those who I cherish, more than The Beatles even, never left me. Spending any length of time with them brightened my day and brought me so much joy. At times, I swear my heart could burst with how much love and affection I feel for them (they know who they are), I'd do anything for these people. Perhaps not anything associated with murder though, I have a strict moral code, but they know I'm there for them - I love them. Adopted family, most definitely.

I even turned twenty-two during 2013, shocking, I know. Here I was thinking I'd be stuck being a lousy twenty-one year old forever. But no - I turned twenty-two and oh boy, it was much better than I expected it to be! Dread is the only word that can describe how I felt pre-birthday, but that day was lovely. Breakfast with my father, lunch with my best friend, and an evening in a bar - lots of friends, lots of vodka. The best of times, I think we can all agree, come from this combination. I was so happy that evening, I was literally jumping for joy. My favourite day this year.

One of the happiest moments of my life - never going to forget this.

Number Five:
A Marriage.

One of my older sisters got married. I now have a brother-in-law. I can't say I expected to have one so soon, but I always knew I would. My sister was so happy and that made me happy. She's also expecting my nephew next year, that deserves a mention.

I have no doubt he will be a much appreciated addition to the family, mostly because he's male - they're currently outnumbered 1 to 5 by us ladies. As they should be, but he will be so loved. He already is.

So those were the key moments (happy ones) of 2013. It has been the worst year of my life, even topping 1997, which I had previously thought to be impossible. These moments made me so happy though, and I didn't want to depress people with another mad rant about why depression is a killer, why anxiety leaves you helpless, but most of all - I'd rather focus on these moments and not resent the entire year. It wasn't all bad. Definitely mostly though. (sorry!)

My favourite Christmas gift.



Happy New Year everyone, I hope 2014 brings you love and nothing but happiness. Anyone who can read this deserves as much. I sincerely apologise for my moods changing from joy to sadness so quickly, and for making you endure that - that was unforgivable of me. I'm sorry.

I'm also sorry if I made anyone feel lousy, no one I know truly is. I'm just a stubborn idiot most of the time.

Thank you for sticking by me throughout 2013 - you made it for me. I honestly wouldn't be here without a lot of you. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.

Twenty-One Revelations: The Makings of a 'Proper' Adult.

“Pictures all around, of how good a life should be, a model for the rest, that bred insecurity.” 
― Ian Curtis

Harking back to my post last year on the eve of my twenty-first birthday for a moment, I wrote a blog post entitled 'New age: Same old shit'. It was bitter, as you can surmise from the title, but also questioning of what adulthood was, what 21 (the age of majority) actually meant or changed. 

I reflected on Stephen Fry's autobiography Moab Is My Washpot, the way he described his teenage belief that adulthood meant the dismissal of certain ideas - with ageing comes a banality of sorts, where the mundane aspects of every day life take hold - there is no room for that 'youthful', idealistic spirit.

I was not in the least bit excited to turn twenty-one, nor am I in a rush to age another year, but it'll happen regardless - as most things you don't want to occur, do.

I turned twenty-one thinking that I'd be thrust into the world and suddenly regarded as an adult, a 'proper' adult. When you become eighteen people still pity you a bit, they're more forgiving of your mistakes, you're learning what the real world is all about. By twenty-one, that's gone to some extent. However, I found once I began my Masters degree, people still called me a 'baby' in comparison to themselves, they still allowed for my mistakes and awkwardness when having to speak publicly.

Maybe last year I was so worried because I assumed people expected everything to fall into line for me. I'd have to finish my degree, choose a career path, get a job, find a partner, have a social life and still contribute time to social events, family and friends. Some of that was expected of me, to an extent, but most of it I expected for myself. I placed so much emphasise on age and how I imagined it, I just assumed that was what everyone else thought as well. Twenty-one hasn't really been great, but it wasn't the expectations that come with age that made the year so rubbish, it was myself and my own expectations.

I have finished my (first) degree, that made my Mum and Dad so proud. It was one of the best days of 2013, despite having to wear a ridiculous cape, fur shrug-thing and winking at the Vice-Chancellor out of nervousness. I have some sort of a social life and I've always made time for family and friends, who are my family. Perhaps I don't give them as much time as I would like to, but I've always thought it's far better for them to miss me, than to deal with me while I'm being hounded by the Black Dog.

The Black Dog, that will be the icon of my twenty-first year. I've been depressed for a life time it seems, but this year it was almost constant. Every. Single. Day. I'd wake up, be happy and then I'd be so down by nightfall. All it took was a harsh word, a criticism, any sort of failure and I'd plummet. It's very hard to pick yourself up again when you're so down, particularly if you have filled your life with mostly lovely people - they were always concerned. It always concerns me when my mood concerns them.

But I also lost a friend this year. Well no, I lost many friends who couldn't cope with me suddenly staying in bed for days or weeks at a time. A person who suddenly wasn't there, mentally or physically. I understand that, it hurt for a long time, it still does - but I understand. It's forgivable. However, I lost a friend for life, she died.

My friend Sarah hounded me for weeks on end, constantly bombarded me with the worst sorts of words and encouraged suicidal thoughts and tendencies - she arguably wasn't a great friend. But she was there. She was alive and real. Despite causing me so much pain, physically and mentally, she was there when I was alone, until suddenly she wasn't.

The one night I didn't respond to her, the one night I separated myself from her mania, she died. I woke up and she was gone. Gone in a way that was particularly painful for me, because it was my method, not hers. My lasting impact on her life, noted by the way she died. I'll never forget feeling as though my heart had exploded, being engulfed by guilt, the horror and feeling responsible for her death. Sarah was special. Sarah will always be special to me and for that reason, I won't wander down this path any longer. It's still raw, I still miss her. When a person passes, it should be realised and remembered, no one should just cease to exist without leaving a trace. I can't say her name yet without being crushed my sorrow, but I will again - with time.

Whenever I think of Sarah now, it's during times when I feel as though my darkness and sadness is a pathogen. That I'm a sick person and look, look at what I did to someone indirectly! What if I do that to everyone? Why don't I stop this now? I'll never be at ease or completely reassured that I'm not bringing people 'down', that I'm not going to drive someone insane with my darkened presence. It will always be a reason to disengage from everybody else.

Having a storm cloud hanging over your head isn't the mark of turning twenty-one, it's the sign of an illness, regardless of age. I think what I have learnt from becoming a 'proper' adult is that there is no such thing as a 'proper' adult. Most people do the best they can, while behaving childishly at times. That's it. Any expectation you have or had for becoming an adult is almost entirely your own. Sure, society says 'get a job you punk kid'. Whether or not you actually become employed is still entirely your own decision. Even if you do, I'm not sure that qualifies you for adulthood.

The only thing I believe marks adulthood is responsibility, or rather, taking responsibility for yourself and your actions. That qualifies you for the role. It's not a question of age, it's a question of behaviour really. Some fit the bill, some don't.

Everything I do, everything I plan to do, I know is entirely my own choice and the consequences of those choices are my own doing. There's no getting around that at 21 (about to be 22). I accept that. If I cause happiness, that's fantastic. If I cause pain or suffering to another human being, that's my own fault. I have to accept that too. Despite having a Government and Prime Minister who are apparently all adults, (even though they don't adhere to my definition of adulthood) and can't even muster up an apology - responsibility is key. Don't let Abbott fool you. He's just a child in a man's suit.

I do hope, turning 22, the rest of these 'proper' adults will allow me to join their club. I'm far too jaded to be a teenager and I'd rather not deal with horrible skin again thanks.

…Twenty-two though! I mean really!

“Oh sorry, I was taking life seriously.” 
― Bill Hicks

"Truly great friends are hard to find, difficult to leave, and impossible to forget."

It has been a while since I last blogged, and for many reasons.  Two and a half months is a long time to cover though, I shall keep this short and topical.

There has been such a lead up to my first day back at University, but this time as a Masters student! That fact did not make me anymore confident or willing to attend my first day however, but I still went, dragging my feet at times. I always tend to opt for stomping or dragging my feet, while pondering the possibilities of going and not going. 

Funky, hip Professors greeted me with Doctor Who references (that only I understood), a "token" singular male in my classes who was shopping for a boyfriend (disappointed boy) and a shared enthusiasm for museums as wondrous entities. I was pleasantly surprised the first two days went smoothly, apart from travelling and late finishes and my epic battles with the traffic on Parramatta Road.  I was quite happy.

However, I decided to take a chance this semester and study units which were challenging, which made me uncomfortable. The first two, like I said, went smoothly. The last one though, was a bloody nightmare. It could have been the fact I got a bit too comfortable with University life; I wore a hat, bright lipstick, my techno-colour dream coat, boots and perhaps tried a little too hard to talk to my peers. Well, whatever it was, they were having none of it. In fact, I left that class with quite a heavy heart and zapped of any comfort or sense of belonging to that group of individuals. I was mocked for my age (something I can't really help), questioned about my "accent" and where I was from and worst of all, blatantly ignored after numerous attempts at trying to connect. There was also a sense of what I call "intellectual snobbery," people who believe age, qualifications or how many facts they have memorised have more weighting than curiosity and determination. Like I said, it was a nightmare. No one likes feeling like the odd one out, when everybody else seems to be having all the fun.

But apart from the tragedy that is my academic life, life in the "real world," has not been so great either. I won't go into detail, because I've realised I don't like sharing the intimate details of my life for your scrutiny anymore, but I have reached some conclusions I will share.

Friends - They won't always be there for you. 

Now friendship is extremely important to me, I don't take it lightly. If I call you a friend it has more than likely taken me a while to do so. I've had to talk with you extensively, find out your musical tastes (must appreciate The Beatles), what you watch, suss out what kind of a person you truly are and most importantly, become comfortable in your presence. If I'm shy, if I can't have a conversation with you, you couldn't possibly be a friend of mine. So yes, you have had to meet the criteria I have in my head and if you pass, I consider you a close confidante, a friend for life. I was never one of those idiotic girls in school who formed groups with labels. There is no point making a short-term friend in my books. 

I must sound a bit demanding, but not really. These four things apply to anyone who has friends:

1. When you say we are going to meet somewhere, at a certain time or place, you show up. That's fair isn't it? If you can't make it, you call or text (because it's 2013). You DON'T leave me sitting there for two hours (because I am an idiot) waiting for you and not responding to my attempts to reach you. That's a really low thing to do to someone. But to some, it's acceptable, because I'll always forgive you...or will I? Passive-aggression is my forte. 

2. You DON'T call me just because no one else will go out with you or because you suddenly realised your boyfriend is a bit of a moron and now you're free, I must be free too. No one likes to be the last resort. That also makes people feel really quite miserable and leaves them questioning their own self-worth. 

3. If you have a problem with me (or a friend in general), you tell me, you don't go around telling mutual friends and not expect it to get back to me, because people love to gossip. You certainly DON'T spread lies to get back at someone, e.g sleeping with your ex-boyfriend and a trollop. That is milacious and selfish and does actually hurt people, not that the person spreading lies actually gives a damn. Is that friendship?

4. You DON'T ignore people for days, weeks, months and then suddenly expect a happy reunion. How can you call yourself a friend when you miss great chunks of time in a person's life? People change, so do friendships, obviously.

Maybe that is me having high expectations. Yes, I expect we will meet when you say we will. Yes, I expect to not be the last resort friend. Yes, I expect some loyalty and yes, I expect you to actually want to talk to me.  Aren't we friends? I don't expect or want someone who can't do any of those things to believe I will always be there, as a back up, when they realise that they "miss me," as it's so often put. 

I'm honestly a selfish person when it comes to friendships. I don't make friends easy, but when I do, I consider it like a spot being permanently filled. 

I will:

1. Give you my constant loyalty (I already have if I call you a friend)

2. Always love you (even if left unsaid)

3. Cry with you or for you in times of sadness

4. Try my very best to make you smile or laugh when you're feeling sad

5. Send you ridiculously optimistic and bubbly messages throughout the week, just on a whim

6. Check in on you if I'm worried and constantly worry for you like a mother-hen

7. Believe in you, always

8. Trust you

9. Always remember your birthday and send you messages as close to 12am on that day as I can

10. Give you everything I have and everything I am, just to be your friend

As I said, I take friendships very seriously, probably because I consider my friends a part of my family. Although, I did tell my sister she was on the waiting list before she is marked as a "friend." Right now she's in the "annoying sibling," "I love you, but I hate you," limbo phase. She'll make it, eventually.

I've realised life changes, people change and sometimes, friendships don't work out. I'm resisting that though, for as long as I can. I read somewhere that women take the loss of a long friendship harder than a divorce. Well, I've never wed any person (legally, Kindergarten marriages don't count) and I think that is true. It is saddening to know something you have invested so much time, so much of yourself and love into, is over. It's a period of your life that's over really. 

I've just had a shocking week, re-evaluating my education, life, dreams, but most of all my friendships. A lot of people I know don't actually fit into my criteria any longer, they don't actually fit anywhere into the chaos that is my life. I'd like for them to fit somewhere, but friendship is a give and take union. I can't always be the one to give, to adapt, so the other person feels better and doesn't have to give so much, they only have to take. Where does that leave me? In bed, miserable, with nothing but resentment, twitter and despair to keep me company. 

I'd love to tell people to shape up or ship out, but I'm not good at letting things go, especially not people. It's always on the tip of my tongue, to just tell someone to bugger off and what an arse they are, but no, not polite. Maybe I'll just have to settle for not being as hopeful or as expecting as I have been, at least then I won't be as depressed or disappointed in people as I have been. Or maybe I just missed something? Maybe I should have watched closer, instead of constantly waiting. Maybe I've been an exceptionally bad and uncommitted friend these last few months? If that's the case, which it probably is, I'm sorry. 

But regardless of all the possibilities surrounding the "why?" of my story, life isn't a mathematical equation, you can't solve everything. I can't know everything that happens, even with my seemingly infinite curiosity. I don't think there is a solution to this problem anyway, so I'm going to go with the non-confrontational and easier approach this time. 

Note: I was always the worst Maths student in my classes. 

"Just remember...no matter how careful you are, there's going to be the sense you missed something, the collapsed feeling under your skin that you didn't experience it all. There's that fallen heart feeling that you rushed right through the moments where you should've been paying attention...none of this matters."

Chuck Palahniuk