22 & not a clue

Here's a thought, if Eve hadn't tempted Adam with a delicious apple then man would never have come to exist. That pair would still be living it up up there and our blue dot of a planet wouldn't have happened.

I've been cheating on my beloved blog with copy writing because copy writing pays - What a word slut I am.

My boyfriend showed this video to me in bed the other night, and after it finished I was in tears and he smiled and said 'you don't see who you really are'. That got me thinking, no I'm not going to start Carrie Bradshaw style asking ridiculous rhetorical questions, but we as women are really quite hard on ourselves. The simple act of describing our face to a stranger does not marry up with how that stranger would necessarily describe us.

Yet we're becoming a society who take 'selfies' and send 'sexts', we are giving away our bodies soo freely these days thanks to the internet. It's this perpetual contradiction that we take photos of ourselves and yet can meet a stranger and struggle to say one positive thing about our physical selves.

I've struggled with my body image all my life. I am still struggling. I have never met a woman who is  100% happy with herself and I don't blame the media, I see it more that we don't promote a healthy outlook on our bodies within society from a young age. Mum better not be reading this, but daughters don't grow up being told to love themselves, instead mothers take the chocolate bars away and furrow their brows. Words like diet and weight creep into everyday language as that little girl creeps towards tenuous teenagedom. There's suddenly this sense of urgency that she'll become a hefty teen, life will be difficult for her, the other kids will pick on her because she's heavier.

Life will always be difficult, instilling a sense of foreboding about body image at the tender age of 11, 12, 13 and beyond isn't going to help. We need to teach our daughters to love themselves. Then teach them to make better choices, involve them in cooking, make them do at least one kind of sports or regular exercise from an early age. Basically, encourage being healthy to be happy over being thin to fit in.

It is my sincere hope that this generation of women, who have grown up with slut marches, fat shaming, thin privelege and rise of the plus size modelling world will go on to raise their daughters to love themselves first and appreciate being healthy second. Loving the skin you're in should be a given.

One extreme to the next is my preferred third gear, uncertainty being a comfortable second and worry a very reliable first. I am quickly learning that fear of the future will freeze you to the spot if you let it. That procrastination is very expensive and most importantly that sitting on your hands is sometimes the only thing you can do.

With somewhat guaranteed well paid temping work in one hand but a potentially career building internship in the other which do I choose? To be frank the question is null as I have neither had the interview nor gotten the job. Like I said one extreme to the next is my third gear. Regardless, I have been tossing it around in this cavern of mine all weekend, have driven one boyfriend and one mother absolutely scatty with the matter and tied myself in knots.

Why? For the simple reason that I am so keenly aware that every step I take now may determine my career path further down the line. So whilst temping will pay well, put my mum's nagging to rest and ease my bank balance, it won't particularly help my career. I am having to sit on my hands, and I hate it. I am having to weigh it all up and make an adult decision which may shape things to come in ways I can't even imagine at this point in time

But then, every thing I have done with my life to date was uncertain to me at one point in time, or were the beginnings of adult decisions which shaped events that came after. What makes this moment of uncertainty unique to me is that it has never concerned my career before - probably because I have never had one. Now as I stand tentatively clinging to this bottom rung I am frozen in how best to proceed.

So I am off to this interview, I am going to smash it, give myself more options and then make a decision. Until then I will sit on my hands and continue to have hypothetical conversations with myself, or to the dishes, or maybe even at a wall. I always did like Shirley Valentine.

There is this viscious chicken or the egg paradox which comes with living in London. You can't get a flat without a job and getting a job is infinitely harder when you're sleeping on a friends sofa without your own flat. So when I lost my dream flat in Shepherds bush for the second time I realised I wasn't going to get it all. 

Last Saturday a good friend dragged me to the Liverpool match. Despite being two of four women in the entire pub, we had a great night. That being said there was one incident that added a slight ugly undertone to the evening.

I have already been back in London a month. Most of which has been spent either sleeping on a friends sofa or in front of my battered cream (*grey) mac book scouring the net for either a home or a job. After many viewings of would-be drug dens & one dream adult-cream-carpeted-wooden-floored chick pad I got my dream home & I move in in under two weeks. Hurrah! 

So me and my 22 year old brain have been having a lot of fun over the past two months. More so than we have done in a long time. I mean I've been meditating, taken time to just be, achieved things I didn't even know were on the to do list - but is that statement part of the problem?

What a curious thing it is to consider that part of your life, a chapter if you like, is over. Published and done with. I will never drive around in cars with Gerry or Brian like we used to. I will never have cause to sit in a Lurgan car park of a Saturday night smoking a 'bine', trying to keep up with the slang. I will not catch another boat to Stranraer to see that lover, may his acne never go away. Lastly I will most likely never catch another Frankston train home to see family I hardly know but love all the same. These periods and habits are done with now and I have outgrown them all. The are both past and passed.

A sure sign of spiritual growth is when you want more freedom and less stuff. I am not taking anything back to London with me unless it is vintage or second hand. The thought of buying furniture is giving me hives, I can't shake the feeling that I am not done yet. The saying

runs through my head. I know settling down has to be done at some point in order to begin the 'career journey'. I want that with both hands outstretched and claws unfurled. Yet at the same time my horizons loom so large and bright it seems a crime to glimpse them from the foot of the mountain and then only venture half way up. The adventures to come will be different. They will be shared, partnered and there is so much joy to be had in that I am sure.

But as someone who has been independent for so long I am nervous that I am sacrificing a few dreams in order to be happy. At 22 is it too early to do that? I don't want to compromise on my dreams. Why should we?

'You refuse to make a man the centre of your life, but romance is.
That is your conundrum.
So you are smart enough to know that life is short and needs to be filled.
But you're not sure life can be filled if there isn't a romance as part of it.'

I don't know about the rest of you but at some point this realisation hit and I was truth tripping all over the place. Thanks to the good friend who made that happen. But seriously, is this just me? The committment cold feet, the accusations of running away from anything that resembles stability?
It can't just be our age, it has to go deeper subconsciously to somewhere t
hat's still nursing the bruises left by bastards in the past.

Life is to be lived, love is to be had and shared, but why would you want to share a life if your half hasn't yet been lived to the full? You shouldn't put on hold all the things you want right now. It's like the old man who told me 'don't work all your life and not have adventures in the belief that one day you will be able to pay for them all at once - because you won't. Go out and adventure now.'

And yet what we humans want most is to be loved, really, when you think about it. We just want love and so we are split between the want for adventure and the need to love and be loved. We let the hunt for one over-ride the necessity for the other. We are unable to quantify our lives as they are or appreciate them until we have someone else to share them with.

It's the argument of will anyone hear the tree should it fall with no one there - is it still an adventure if you go it alone. Of course it is. In fact its how we are designed, unless you have stuff going on there should only be you in that head of yours. So listen to yourself, silence all the hum and answer the question: "What is it I want?" Once you answer that question, go out and do it, find it, see it, live it. Because time waits for no man and the best time to do anything is now.

I am unemployed, officially. Only it's called 'being a freelancer'. Which is another way of saying I write pieces I am proud of for free, for people I've never met in the hopes that one day, sitting across from a woman in clothes I cannot afford, she will look up and say 'welcome aboard.'

But you know what, I wouldn't change a second of this. Despite the feeling of dread in my gut about the long road ahead, right now this is bliss. I am getting to spend my days writing, reading and researching all the awesome out there topics that people should hear more about.

I get to take the time to do as I please and please only myself. I spent the afternoon in Melbourne's best kept secret Chokolait (order a milk hot chocolate with chilli at a level 6 - trust me) read an inspiring new magazine, made notes, wrote and chatted to an older couple from Perth about life. It was wonderful. Then I walked through Grafitti alley and up Swanston street smiling in the sunshine.

I am now sitting bathed in the aurelian light of Melbourne state library next to a beautiful Germanic bearded man typing happily away with the promise of a Huxtaburger with a girlfriend later. It's a beautiful day in Melbourne. I am happy. This is officially Me time and whilst I traverse the sphere of unemployment for a while I can relax because I am using the time wisely.

I attended a cocktail competition on Monday night on the back of a fellow blogger's +1. I didn't touch on the tram and the drinks were free - I spent nothing, nada, niente & I had a fantastic time. When asked what I did and why I was there I giggled and said 'I'm a blogger - isn't that the most narcissistic thing you've ever heard?'. Well it is.

Don't take yourself too seriously, pay it all forward because what you sow so shall you later reap. As my benevolent Norn Irish mother is so fond of saying. Be the good you wish to see in the world - cheers Ghandi. But really, it all means nothing if you can't take two minutes to laugh at yourself and appreciate it all simultaneously.

Surgical students are given a cadaver amongst groups of 8 to study for their first two years of med school. They dissect and examine every single sinew, strand and seam of the body. Collecting each part as they work. At the end of the two years they conduct a funeral and lay the body in its entirety to rest. Giving thanks for everything they've learnt and taking the time to say goodbye to someone they knew more intimately than their lovers.

I have three weekends left in Australia. I have one pair of jeans with a huge hole in the crotch from having lived in them since winter arrived in this beautiful city. I have one jumper and no coat and only my ambitions and hopes to keep me warm. They've kept me going from the start and helped keep negativity from the door. 

Whoever said sexism is dead needs a slap in the face. I narrowly avoided a fine on the tram this morning because of these babies, how easily distracted the inspector was is entirely beside the point. What is, is the fact that there is no getting away from these bad boys. Figuratively or literally.

The world truly is a funny place. Last night I met an 18 year old who had never been kissed, never had a drink and never smoked anything in her life. And I just wanted to hold her like a baby dove in my hands. She looked so precious and fresh to the world.

I am a hypocrite. As a devotee of plus size fashion, its mantras, bloggers and all it stands for I am committing serious hypocrisy. For the past two weeks I have been living on wheatgrass shakes, cuppa soups & poached eggs. Why? Because I am about to jettison off to Thailand where all manner of selfies and beach/bikini related photography will happen. My travel buddy and Best friend accompanying me is beyond snappy happy. Throw in a reunion with uni friends who are model-esque and you have one very insecure and hungry 22 year old.

Passive agression is a beautiful thing, it is the single most infuriating and hilarious method of feedback in the human arsenal. It allows for insult, vengence and a reply without you having to do more than pin a cartoon-dog-covered note to the fridge. It has the power to make you not want to go home after a day at work and even better yet it can keep you in your room in tears if you let it.

So here is my advice on how to deal with passive aggression - Don't.
Ignore the immaturity and laugh at the spelling mistakes. If you really did take the food without asking then be an adult & attempt to talk and apologise. If it's thrown back in your face then walk away. Because you are living in a communal house, shit is going to go down and people always need something to bitch about. I guess it's just your turn.

In the grand scheme of things this is just another axe in your beanstalk, another bump in the road or a curved ball out of nowehere. Just take some of that maturity you're always talking about and welly that ball back over the fence - because it ain't your problem. Also you never did like that flatmate particularly anyway so save the niceties for your friends.

Also for anyone reading this who feels their flatmates really should get more creative in the passive aggressive note department here is a valuable resource for you to pass on next time your fridge becomes a hub of indirect feedback: http://www.passiveaggressivenotes.com/

Increasingly I'm noticing things that never seemed to matter before which now alter everything in their finite detail. Like the creases in a skirt that previously I wouldn't bother to iron or the sudden necessity to polish my shoes and finally the importance of eyebrows. These details are filling in the space between all the other things I think about. Not quite so much so that I am beginning to turn into a 52 year old shorter version of myself, but enough that I smugly smile and think 'I'm a grown up.'

Speaking of which last week I paid a wizened crone $200 for the privelege of wearing lipstick and discussing my finances. It is the most expensive grown up thing I have ever done and thank god the ATO is rewarding me with tax back otherwise I would have lost my shit. Each adult thing is a personal mile stone, an achievement in that I did it myself. Pathetic really considering millions of people do these things everyday.

I guess what I am celebrating is the subconsciousness of it all. It's becoming second nature to do sensible things. I still don't understand the stock market or how to wire a plug - but I have done my tax return and I remember to pencil my eyebrows each morning so that counts right? With six weeks left of my Australian adventure I am financially independent and hopeful that I may not be as clueless as when I arrived.

It's human nature to freak out, but it's even more natural to learn and grow. Appreciating the things you've learnt to handle and the experiences that taught you nothing is ever that big a deal is important. Especially now when no one else will know if you remembered to polish your shoes or not: it's all up to you now. Twenty somethings are human beanstalks - we just keep growing up and reaching skyward despite all the axes and Jacks along the way.

Do we need things to stress over? Things to disappoint us? To teach us to demand more and accept less? Or is our lot simply that we refuse to be satisfied. 

I am under no allusions anymore that I am impervious or invincible to getting older. This reality was brought abruptly to my attention this morning, whilst peering into the mirror sans glasses I caught sight of a faint whisp of brown under my chin. 

When you tell someone you're in your 20s and you're a ______ (fill the blank). They may roll their eyes, or smile at you wistfully, pitying your naivety. You're a label and a uniform. A pay cheque away from the next purchase or a boyfriend away from 'the one'.

You are running from one dream to the next and slamming your sorry heart around without a care. You are living for the moments when you feel you've achieved something. When someone recognises your accomplishments, when your parents say they're proud or your friends say they're jealous. You are grasping at your future with claws unfurled.

At the same time most of the things you do are tinged with the feeling that it just doesn't count because you are supposed to spend this decade fucking up. You're supposed to be learning all of life's lessons one bad decision at a time. So to hear that this learning curve isn't meant to go on for an entire decade, but more to be built upon and seized is a cause for relief. Because it means you're not mad to think it's not ok to waste the next 8 years screwing around. Which seems to be the conscious decision of most of your peers at times.

I have never wanted to play 'emotional musical chairs' with men, however it feels it has happened that way regardless at times. I don't know a woman who isn't guilty of choosing less than what she deserved it feels an inherent part of the modern female mindset. We choose wrongly because we choose to treat our twenties like a rough draft - it'll make a better story I suppose. However in the end we are using up precious time and rambling through paragraphs of a life we cannot re-write. We can't then rush in to another decade once we hit thirty expecting it to be easy to find a partner and settle down. Time catches up with us eventually.

Build on your experiences from one to the next. Cut loose the dead weight friends, choose the off the wall ideas and go with them. Because ultimately the new friends will bring the new people and new opportunities which will broaden your horizons and maybe even change your life. Never stop being curious. Don't sit there being the only one still running around to the music so you grab the closest chair - walk away from the party & find a new one. Don't lose your innocence and appreciation for the simple, at the same time don't accept less than what will make you happiest. Forgive yourself all your mistakes - learn from them.

Being a twenty something was never going to be easy and as I sit awaiting June 30th & my first ever tax return, part of me wishes I could still be the 15 year old girl who just wanted the perfect denim skirt.

She sits with smudged blue cheeks beside daddy with his huge hands. Hands bigger than the plates mummy washes every night. Hands with wiry hair that doesn't end or start from arm to knuckle. Daddy's little girl in an AFL top and CFC on her cheeks. Asking questions quietly so he leans in. His bushy ear brushing her blonde kiss curls as he listens. She is safe and sound bedecked and loved. She is wanted and paraded by the man with big hands. He holds her close in the crowd and when she can't see, up we go, above everyone else, hold on tight, patting his bald spot she giggles. 

I love the beautiful details of man. Like the smudged blue ink of numbers on this mans hand or that bald man who blindly pushes his glasses further up to try and rest them more comfortably on his whisps. I even love the deaf teenager who does not hear my 'could you move over' over her music. 

The company of women has restorative powers. To be in the literal bosom of other women who share similar values, express similar desires and communally convey exuding confidence with ease is an inexplicably comforting environment for one such as myself. 

I have a PR internship. Well, a Social Media internship with a PR company. Which in my opinion is better. Don't believe me, well fine. But as far as working for free is concerned this is worth it. I am working with one of the forerunning companies in the industry, with awesome people who operate a 'No Dickhead' policy. As far as interning goes this is unheard of in the PR world. PR is known for it's dickhead-ish attitude, this company is a breath of fresh air and has changed the jaded view I once had.

Second week running and I even have a nickname; the Boob intern. Slowly beginning to get over the irony considering how well-endowed I am. Basically it's a long story involving me interviewing female colleagues on their opinions of their breasts. On my second day. Oh yes. This follows pouring a pint of water over my keyboard on my first day. As ever I am all elegance and professionalism.

At the end of the day I have succeeded, I have an awesome internship which I landed purely by chance by the skin of my teeth. I even have more work lined up the week I finish my internship. So why don't I feel like I've accomplished something? Why aren't I content? I guess because I know how long the road ahead is. And it's long. My reality is I will have to do at least one more internship whilst here in Melbourne and I will definitely have to do another in London.

Working for free in a highly paid industry, is there a keener irony. Why is it completely acceptable to expect young twenty-somethings to work for prolonged periods of time for free? Why has this become an established method of gaining employment? We live in the twenty first century where the common topic on everyones lips is the cost of living. If we are all so well aware of the costs of day to day life then why do industries encourage people at the very start of their career to bust a gut for free. We've hit the ground running but we're running on empty. We have air in our bank accounts and dust in our cupboards the majority of the time. Myself and thousands of other twenty-somethings can do nothing about it. We accept its the route to the career we are hungry for. I guess that's why I am not quite jumping for joy.

All that being said, I am honestly enjoying every second with this company. I am given responsibilities, my opinion is valued and encouraged and I am being thrown into endless new situations and environments. I come into the office each day ready to work on ten different things at once with the mantra running through my head of 'today is an investment in your future. Each day is a step closer and further along the path.' I cannot ask for more and I barely have time to really think about it. That and I don't eat anymore. HURRAH. There just isn't the time to think about lunch, never mind dinner. The only true downside is that my creative outlets have taken a serious back burner. I can tell this because my iPhone battery lasts all day. Seriously. I hardly tweet, I barely write and I haven't networked in over a week. Oh well. Find what you love & let it kill you. Bukowski you genius.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that you do not always get what you want. Alot of the time your reality does not even come close to what you want for yourself, but as we all know - that is life.

That being said I believe that when you decide exactly what it is you do want, the universe conspires to make it happen. It may not be how or what you would hope for & sure the uncertainty of it all makes you want to throw up half the time - but it will happen.

If you set your sights high and work hard then the universe will work with you. You will get there. The wobbles of doubt & uncertainty are merely tests to make really sure this is what you want. The cosmos throw shit at you like disappointment and bad timing to teach you that if this is really it then you better be ready. Or at least your stomach will be.

The roller coaster of the career ladder is nauseating. Especially when you are grasping for the very first rung. But once you start handling the curved balls & wobbling along with the waiting, the relief when you grasp that rung is worth it.

Even if your mouth is smeared in chocolate & you only realise 20 minutes after the interview, when grinning like an ejit you fix your lippy & gawp at yourself because you are still just 22 & haven't a clue.

The trouble with being alone & single for an extended period of time is not that it gives you unrealistic expectations, but that it teaches you what you need. You need a man who asks how your interview went, who responds to his emails & who is sensible with his money. You don't want someone who talks about themselves, ignores their emails until asked & is forever broke.

Unfortunately the longer you spend independently fine tuning all the things you did badly in your formative years, the less likely you are to accept that shit from someone else should the opportunity for commitment present itself.

Accepting yourself and working on the flaws should teach you some compassion & patience, you would hope? Wrong. It teaches you life is short & other people don't work things out unless they're forced to. If you get into a relationship with someone who doesn't know how to be an adult how do you ever expect them to be a man.

Perhaps leaving him out to dry, whoever he is, for a little longer is for the best? Because frankly if you haven't sorted your own shit out then how do you ever expect another persons problems to work with yours in a relationship? People throw themselves together in dire hopes of happiness without ever truly getting to the bottom of what made them miserable or useless in the first place.

He may need to grow up, but you sure do as well. Take time to consolidate where you're going wrong with people, life, career or worst of all your day to day emotions. Only when you work those things through will you be in a place to meet your man half way.

I have always felt that Melbourne is London & San Francisco's love child, a riot of colour, cuisine and life. Having said that, the longer I stay the more it feels like Melbourne is in fact London, high. It is stuffed and practically comatose it is soo chilled. The good times are a plenty here, they are all for the taking. Anything is achievable here in Australia, just don't break a sweat unless you have to - that is what it feels like to live in this city. Sounds heavenly doesn't it?

I'm starting to feel more and more that Melbourne will be ideal in 20 years time when I am done fighting for a career, it will be an idyllic place to be married and do all of that. But right now it just isn’t hungry enough for me. It is gluttonous with easy going attitudes that just don’t force me to push harder. I don't feel any do-or-die about this city.

Part of coming out here was to figure out where to next. I had to decide what it was that drove me, not just a 2.1 or any job that pays anymore. Student days are now behind me. What actually sets my world on fire? Because what I choose next could end up being the path I follow for the rest of my life. I don't want to be chasing a goal that isn't right for me. I want to do what I love and love what I do. Turns out what I truly love is to write.

Since being out here I have written nearly every day. I have picked up the pen & run with it in a way I never have done before. I have made connections and gained valuable experiences. I have gotten out of my head and comfort zone completely and learnt more about myself than I believe I would have done had I stayed in London.

Coming out here after uni has been a great decision. Hindsight knows everything, that bitch. I came out here to the sunshine, to the good food & to the endless opportunities. I have earned more here than in my life to date. I have gotten to know a part of my family I didn't before and I have proved to myself that I can do this - be an adult; be financially independent & responsible for myself. I can take care of myself. Thanks.

So the decision to go home hasn't been an easy one. Indeed some have called me mad to go back to what is a bleak existence in a cold & grey part of the world in a dreadful financial climate. But the truth is that you can't replace people and you can't change goals. Not easily at least. Nothing can compensate being able to see my family for a weekend or having great friends around me. That isn't replaceable & certainly not with a two year visa. No, 13 months is long enough to be away for me. I will go back with my head firmly in the game. A vast difference to how I left for sure. I will come back with more experience & self assurity knowing that nothing is ever truly 'the end of the world'. What I come home to I have no control over. But so long as I take home all the positives of this experience then I can say with confidence that I have no regrets about this decision.



So thank you Australia. Thank you for giving me the past six months of sunshine, the hottest summer on record, a good job, wonderful new friends & the whackiest apartment that has to be seen to be believed. Here's to the remaining six. London, be ready.

Working at The Australian Red Cross has been an eye opener of an experience. In terms of first-time office experience post-uni I truly believe it has been unique. Besides working with a rainbow team of personalities, people and cultures I have experienced a non-profit environment, witnessed humanitarian aid in practice and come up against endless ethics over policy scenarios.

Being a humanitarian organisation means group meditation sessions, chill out rooms and on mass flu injections are the norm here. I am however, stubborn and still traumatised by 1984. As such I believe on mass work force flu jabs are unnecessary and are a mild form of institutionalisation which should be avoided. Flu jabs are for the young, vulnerable and the elderly. The flu and common colds are just an unfortunate part of human existence; there is no cure. You simply have to tough it out and get better.

So after sharing my opinions with the office, shock horror, about how I felt it was institutionalisation, Big Brother like, creepy and a presumption of my health. We all departed for the weekend, clutching their left arms whilst I smiled smugly to myself over my current unbroken seven months of rude health. No I still don't have a Medicare card, I haven't been ill once remember?

Until now. Who came into the office on Monday morning with the early signs of a cold? Who had to take today off with the full blown, guns blazing flu? This guy. Oh yes.


Irony? Bugger off.

I am fortunate to have a trio of wonderful friends who span 3 decades ahead of me at 32, 42 & 52. Each one tells me a different story of their 20s, how they too spun circles around themselves and the many men they were involved with in an effort to better understand themselves. Or how they also made spontaneous decisions & wondered six months later how all this had come to pass. Their stories all differed from one another, but their uncertainty and doubt did not.

Now they smile patiently over many a glass of wine as I sit opposite & ask 'why? Where to next? How will I do this? When will I do that? & worst of all is it enough?'. Their beautiful yet bemused faces take in mine & in that moment I know they have been there. It is wonderful to have older friends. I am privileged to witness the progression of woman through so many beautiful souls. I am even more privileged to learn from them.

Eventually after a few more glasses and a lot of laughter they all, in one way or another make the same point – what you want now will change & who you are now will change too. Don’t let that scare you, accept it as part of your journey.

It seems we don’t ever fully master dealing with our lot, we are in an ever evolving state of acceptance. Learning to deal with one shitty situation better than we did the last. All the while dreaming big and aiming high don’t forget. The dreaming and the aiming doesn’t stop it just accustoms itself better to our reality. We tailor our next endeavour as we grow through the last. Our wants will wain and our desires differ, but as women it is an innate part of our programming to want more.

What I believe is the actual goal in the meantime isn’t happiness or success; but contentedness. Happiness is a long term goal, but if we can’t appreciate being content in the here and now then how do we ever fully expect to enjoy true happiness when it finally shows up to the party.

We are all just walking through the wilderness on sand, hoping the next step will be less precarious than the last. The truth is that we have no control over that aspect of our lives, in fact we have no control whatsoever. All we can do is cling to yet more metaphors and hope we make the best decision as to where to place our feet next.

'At 22, if your dreams don't scare you then they aren't big enough my darling'

I visited TKMaxx once, in London on Hammersmith high street. I had wanted a pair of Birkenstocks forever. It was like the summer equivalent of the Hunter wellie - a must have. I wanted them, but until now I hadn't had a legitimate enough reason to buy them. Now I was being whisked away to Rome by Daniel. A bi polar sufferer from Lincoln who was crazy about me.

Very long dramatic story later, add copious amounts of red wine + dozens of packets of fags & surprise surprise I didn't go to Rome & I still don't own Birkenstocks. The truth is that regardless of how much you plan, save or try, you have no control over any of it. It all just happens. Just like that. Life is what happens while you're busy making plans.

You don't always get what you want. Sometimes you get your heart dashed in two by a guy who flies hotter & Colder than a Taylor swift album.

Sometimes you just don't get the right shoes until you've walked far enough. You have to go there to come back, just so you know better how to do the next bit.

I always say at some point I will turn my life into a book, or maybe a tv series. But then GIRLS happened & Lena Dunham stole all my ideas. Regardless I have to believe my life can't be this ridiculous without a good reason - to publish it.

What happened the other night is the stuff of nightmares. Living this far away from the origin of all yours sins sort of gives you an undue sense of confidence. You aren't going to run into any exes or bitches out here. But no one prepared me for running into their ghosts.

Sitting outside in the cool Melbourne air on Monday night; casually whiling away the hours before bed time & the start of yet another working week. A Flatmate had friends round & here enters our character: Adam. Adam is a Brit, but unlike ever other Pom round these parts he has a more sunny disposition. Everything had a silver lining to Adam's perspective & thank god for that.

We're chilling out, discussing hilarious and disastrous dating experiences in the efforts to cheer up a Canadian friend who has just been jilted by Love. It's my turn, which should I choose? There have been a few. One particular period stands out vividly but that's another story.

Adam hails from a particularly grey area of Essex where it just so happens an ex came from also. He reminds me of this & I laugh. I give away a few details; the predilection for weed, the disastrous hair & then finally the reason we parted: 'You should sleep with other people'.
"I mean who says that!?" I shouted. No but really? It wasn't until the final detail I revealed that Adam stands & is convinced that's his friend Blaine. 'It's Blaine! It is not Blaine! Ginger pubes? That's Blaine!'

Fuck. it was. But I mean how many guys from Essex do you know with ginger pubes & natural black hair? My horrendous romantic choices had come to haunt me & Adam was only too willing to tell me how pathetic they were. My flat mates couldn't get over it. This was hilarious. I wanted to be sick.

The topic didn't drop all night & I no longer feel safe in public. How many other ghosts are out there hidden behind the guise of a well meaning friend or acquaintance? I am living proof that you can come 10&1/2 Thousand miles & still be haunted by your past. Try as you might, no matter how much ice cream or wine you pile on top of that one there is no escaping your past. It will always be there like a spot without a head you are watching over in agony.

There is no escape Guys. I just take comfort in the knowledge that I didn't come out here running away from anything. This isn't an escape & despite my melodramatic musings: my history isn't that bad, but if it could be a while between this & the next ghost I'd appreciate it.

I often mention my life in Melbourne in passing in my posts but I don't talk about it in any great depths. I like to infuse a sense of the any woman; this could be any city anywhere throughout these posts. After all we are just people struggling through in the end; regardless of which continent or country.

I get told I am brave and that people envy me for my choices after uni, frequently. I have had many a friend who has told me how they dream of doing something like this. But the thing I can't get my head around, is why don't they? It isn't that hard. You quit your job, buy a flight, throw a banging party & go.
You throw yourself out there. Cling to an edge or two & just take a chance.

Saying this, I know for a fact I am not made of exceptionally strong stuff & except for the usual bag of crazy mixed with a tendency towards neurotic I am nothing out of the ordinary. I think bungee jumping is crazy, heights scare the shit out of me & I have never been on a roller-coaster - I hardly live on the edge.

So why is it that this is such a big deal? Maybe it's the distance? 10,490+ thousand miles is Alot. Believe me. Or maybe it is the wholly alien, the unknown?They're right though guys- Vegemite does taste the same. Either way I truly believe the average graduate these days needs to not only think outside of the box, but rip that fucker to pieces & start again. How do you ever expect to stand out if you followed the crowd?

I am on dangerous ground here as many wonderful people I know have stayed & fought the good fight after uni and are making progress. I do not want to be on a high horse or a cross for that matter. I simply wish to throw a spanner in the works & ask why not? Why shouldn't you even just consider buggering off out of which ever hemisphere for a while?

The irony is that I have met more Paddys in Melbourne than in my last three years in London. This is the place to come to in a failing economy. You only have to stroll down Acland street or head for Bridies on Chapel street to know that. I will be going back to London to get away from them all the city is so overrun.

Despite all this when it truly comes down to it & I weigh it all up, maybe you guys were right to stay. Often times I feel like a message in a bottle - afloat, adrift & alone. But then I remember that like all such bottles destined for land I too will come ashore when the tide is right. I just haven't been through enough currents or high seas yet.

I will be back. But not yet. Not yet.

It was the moment when I lay back & thought about falling asleep right there on my Australia towel that I knew trying to do pilates today after work was too big an ask. Motivation is hard. It only gets harder when you add in a 9-5 & take away a support network. You reach a stage in your adult life where you have thrown yourself so far away from your family in hopes of 'independence' a word you have bandied about since the age of 15 that you realise you are either too proud or too far away to ask for help; literally and metaphorically.

You have gotten yourself up on your feet by hook or by crook, you have savings & a flat & maybe even a boyfriend. Ok maybe not. What you don't have is sleep or a stress free mind but you are independent. Welcome to adulthood. The next step? Keep going. No one is behind you cheering you on, you're past that now. You are out there, on your own & the only person stopping you is yourself. Aim high they said, dream big they said. Well you did & you're out there. Now what?

Telling yourself to keep going is tough. It is hard bloody work & sometimes it is so exhausting all you want to do is spend the day in bed watching Geordie shore. We all need an off day from being an adult; to revert back into your 17 year old self. But how do you keep motivating yourself day after day? Life now is mapped out in weekends. It is about getting through the next five days to revel in the remaining two. Pretty depressing when you put it like that really. But that is our reality. We are striving for everything, fighting tooth & nail to get recognised, earn our place and prove our worth. Will it be worth it? Who can honestly answer that.

But the truth is you have gotten this far; don't stop now. Keep aiming high & keep fighting the good fight because there's space in this world for you; you just have to earn it first. All that you sow so shall you reap. It may just take the best part of the next decade. In the mean time remember to appreciate the little things. Like the fact that your crazy family will be there come what may, whether you want them to or not. Like the fact that as you move through life you will not know why you meet the people you do until they are there just in time.

Relax & enjoy the ride the say? I say sit back & give yourself a break. You've made it this far. You're doing alright kid. Breathe.
Now what's the next plan & how are we gonna do it?
Thatta boy.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that thinking too much leads to imploding and wrinkles. Which is why, dear readers, at the age of 22 I can plant potatoes in this forehead of mine.

I am a bottler. I bottle everything up, flood the lives of my friends with positivity, advice & motivation whilst I drown in an inner emotional whirl pool of self doubt & negativity. I don't take compliments and there are few people whose opinion or advice I trust. You can't tell me anything because either I've heard it before or I think you're full of shit anyway. I am a pathetic emotional enigma & the older I get the more I just roll my eyes at myself and get on with it.

That said, the more I open up about this & the more I write what I am truly feeling at that point in time; the more positive a response I receive. Are we all whirling alone together? Take the oxymoron however you like but I have evidence to suggest we are. Maybe it's the female condition to over think, worry and generally go mad about all the possible tomorrows? Or perhaps the people who respond to this blog are just crazy too.

Regardless of which ever unfortunate truth you choose to believe the fact still stands that if we do not communicate and process our thoughts productively it all just builds in our head till we find ourselves screaming at our psychology student Flatmate who is only trying to help as we row with every inanimate object in sight.

Breathe.

Ok so from the top. Take a pen & paper & list the main negative thought that circles through that brain of yours. Write a list of reasons for and against & then examine that list. In all likelihood it's an irrational thought which if you use your mind over your mood you should be able to reason down to a more manageable size. It's all very well indulging it to have something to stress over. However if this thought is stopping you from sleeping at night then this may not be such a bad idea.

If you continually practice the attitude of:

"If you don't like something: change it.
If you can't change it: change your perspective".

Then you will find your mind will be stronger than your mood. The brain is not a muscle however it works in the same way. Being ruled continually by your emotions is exhausting. Take control of your thought processes by merely reasoning them out.

That being said you'll have to excuse me; I have unfinished business with an oven & a heap of worrying to do for tomorrow.

I run around Melbourne in thongs or heels all day (talk about all or nothing), clutching my fake longchamps that is long passed its best. I throw myself into trams & trains wedged between tiny Asian woman & a man with a suspicious smell issuing from his bag. Faintly banana like. You know who you are. I get to my office, basement, air conditioned & light adjusted white room where I spend 8hrs of my day thinking about all the other things I want to or need to be doing.
I swan around the office as the youngest team member frustrated at the lack of men & bored with my lunch by 11 & I wonder what the hell I am doing here.

The weather in Melbourne since the heat wave passed has been similar to a teenager. Sweaty, changeable & prone to tears. I wake up wondering what the hell to wear for 23 degrees with rain all day. Its like some form of sadistic pathetic fallacy. This heat with this weather just freaks me. It throws me off. We are supposed to be in autumn & it's 24 degrees. I am a duck out of too hot water.

So I priss about all day wondering whether I will work out tonight at home.
I do Pilates you know. That's floor exercises where I think I look like the woman on YouTube I have enlarged on my battered Mac book for the sole purpose of finding my 'abdominals'. I'm sorry, what?
What is this? This fuckery I am calling adult life. I'm still checking to make sure my skirt isn't in my knickers most mornings. How do I qualify for life right now?

If I am an adult then how did that happen? Why did no one teach me at school how to fill in a tax return? Why was I not taught how to work out which electricity company is cheapest? This bill is in Chinese. Why did I have to learn to write a cover letter the hard way? And why does no one prepare you for what seems like an endless gap between right now & your career. Where are the rungs of this ladder I am apparently climbing?

Is it just me or are you also sitting on public transport heading for your air conditioned box wondering why the hell you tore your hair out over Pythagoras theorem at 15? That your mother was wrong, it will never be useful & as a financial administrator I can safely say that calculators are the only option. Curriculums are all fucked. Why are we teaching our kids Pi & not teaching them about tax & insurance. Why did I have to teach myself how to change a tyre?
Where has life learning gone.
And we wonder why teenagers don't know how to boil an egg. Seriously.

I have to believe that I manage quite well all things considered. If I can cross the world & hit the restart button without total melt down then I must have done something right. But as a person who gets upset when the kitchen knobs don't all face the same way ( & I am not referring to my male flat mates for a change) I am finding just coping with all this a struggle.

I am tired. I am hungry. I am bored. I bandy on on this blog about changing your life & positivity when frankly I am a grumpy so and so whose just full of good advice. So if anyone has any tips on how to be a successful adult throw them my way because if I don't get some sleep & my head screwed on properly soon I may find the banana smelling man & make the fat man on tram 59 sit on him.

Or maybe I just need it to be Friday already. I'm pretty sure in 20 years time I will still be the woman checking my knickers.