22 & not a clue

They say life begins at 40.
Well I bloody hope not.

I'm only just beginning, only just getting started on all this adult life stuff & I'm in love with it. The struggle & the complete uncertainty. Sure most of the time it leaves my stomach in knots, my brain fried & my bank account completely empty like a really bad lover. But it's living. This is life, and sure it's not meant to always be this hard. But you have to put the ground work in before you can expect results.

Staying up till all hours planning, editing and hunting down contacts has become my routine. I have to get up 30 minutes earlier just to manage all of my social media. These days, like right now for example, I write my posts on my Blogger app standing precariously wedged between a Thai woman in my armpit and the bearded hunk I try to flirt awkwardly with most mornings.
This is my life. I do a dull data entry job that pays well by day & write and plan every other waking hour of the day. It's not bad by most people's standards. But my god if someone offered me the chance to write back in London I'd jump through hoops of fire, kiss endless frogs & get the companies name tattooed on my arse.

That's how bad I want this. You have gotta have passion. If its not there then what Are you doing?

We're all just looking for a break. That opportune moment when the universe conspires to throw us a bone. I'm hunting for my bone & maybe it will just find me. Like love, a career has to be pursued, but maybe there's something to be said for having faith that it will happen if you let it.
Network, work hard, do everything besides that you love even if it means writing into the small hours & don't give up hope.

We're in our 20s baby, this was never meant to be easy.

The morning commute is never a pleasure. It is to most, a dreaded part of the 9-5 routine. Although let's face it, it's more like 6:30-6:30 by the time you factor in the shower, lunch, morning tea & on the other end the bread & milk you forgot at lunch. Bugger.

I plug out. I find man kind is much more enjoyable to be around if I just don't engage. So I am unfortunately that girl on the tram with earphones in and a calm look on her face which just doesn't make sense for this time of day.
The truth is the commute is where I get most of my inspiration from.
I look at people. I am that creep. I am stealing details about you and learning about you. So much so that people no longer appreciate just how much can be learnt about them from a single glance.

It is possibly one of the few perks of being tall that I tower over most on public transport. It means I see things others don't. Like the girl who stood in front of me this morning, though immaculately groomed, had evidently stopped using ear buds years ago. The middle aged woman to my left had put her earring on backwards, how? And the elderly gent on my right had ripped a button off his collar. Does he have no one to sew it back on?

Yesterday on a tram a woman in front of me was reading a pamphlet on pregnancy. She could only be in her first trimester. Another woman, heavily pregnant then sat down next to her opposite me. I had this wonderful moment of life in motion before me.
And yet the two did not speak. The heavily pregnant woman glanced at the pamphlet, then at the woman's stomach and then hugged her handbag closer.
I don't know her story, but surely something could have been said, a connection or shared moment where the two acknowledge their achievement and position in life.
I sat across from them both and wondered how did you both get here? And why doesn't this unite you rather than leave you silent and indifferent?
I know I am a hypocrite here as I choose to tune out to morning commuter life. But it leaves me free to voyeur, to watch as the world spins madly on and we do and say nothing in its wake.
Why won't people reach out? Why don't we smile and share together. A stranger is only so until you speak.

I read the Mx everyday after work & the section 'Vent Your Spleen' is filled with angry commuters voicing their disdain for others. Everyone is indignant about the lack of consideration from others. Few give each other the benefit of the doubt or wonder how things have come to be for that person.
Maybe it's the writer in me, but I feel that as man kind progresses we are losing our ability to empathise or care.

Consider for a moment the attractive man or woman you saw last on public transport. You were interested, intrigued and wondered how their path had come to cross with yours. Where is that curiosity with everyone else? I'm not saying stare inquisitively at every other person like a weirdo, I'm saying have compassion.
Move over on the tram and don't be so awkward, don't throw such scornful looks because someone has pushed onto the train.

They are simply another A getting to another B. Just like you.

I check this section every day. It is at the back & I flick to it as soon as the bleach blonde punk with stretchers at Melbourne central station hands it to me at 16:50pm.
I read this religiously for two reasons. Firstly it restores my faith in humanity. Secondly I hope that someone has spotted me and wants to send me a message, give me a compliment or ask me out for coffee.

I know this is pathetic. I also know I am loved. But I still, vainly, check it every day. It makes me smile to see all the individual messages of hope and light people send to each other. Without knowing even the other person's name, they send this signal out into this huge city in the hopes that person with whom they had a moment's connection will respond. Occasionally someone will reply with a message, usually asking for more details. I have yet to read a message which tells of what happens next. Were they disappointed? Did they meet under Flinders St clocks at 6pm last Wednesday? Did 'tattooed guy' find his 'asian beauty'? I think that's a book I will write one day.



I read this one when I first arrived in Melbourne and it has stayed with me ever since. I want to be this couple. I want to be the kind of couple who share their fish and chips and hold hands. I think we all do. I also think this section of the MX is the closest most of us get to a 'movie' kind of moment. So reading it every day, for me, restores hope that romance isn't dead and that

Not before a near death experience journey to the airport with two minutes to spare before check-in closed. Followed by a delayed flight which was then cancelled and then having to spend the night in a $140 sweat box for the night.




When I got in the taxi on Monday morning groggy, sleep deprived and a little stale the driver turned and smiled at me.
"Good time eh?"
"Oh hell yeah, I partied all weekend"
"First time to Sydney"
"Yeah I've been saving for months"
"Ah, good. Life is soo short. Don't work soo hard. People always working soo hard and not appreciate what they have. You took time. You stopped. Good for you".

Stopping, breathing and taking time to appreciate how far you've come can be good for you. Amongst the pirate raves and the neon lights that colour your life, stopping and saying yes to the things you truly want to do and achieve is living. That is what all the anecdotes and metaphors are talking about.

It feels like your early twenties are spent in a nauseating state of flux between anxiety and panic. "What will I do? Who Will I be? Will anyone ever love me? Where will I go? How will I afford life? Ever?!"
It's one never-ending cycle of euphoric highs and depressive lows. No one ever has sufficient advice to give you other than hang in there baby. Eventually you begin to feel like that metaphorical kitty in the poster in that you truly believe you may slip, fall and not land on your feet for a change.

But baby you've got a rubber arse. You can only bounce back.

That's the mentality you just gotta have. Because in ten years time you will want to tell your twenty something self to chill the fuck out. You will wish you had appreciated the highs and had more patience with the lows.

I had some bad news today. I let it get to me. It was all I could think about. Before I knew it I felt sick, wanted to cry and couldn't breathe. I panicked. Over something which I already have multiple solutions for. I had a job offer last week for God's sake. I have contacts. I am resourceful. Yet despite all this positive evidence for why this reaction was unjustified I was right there, down in the low letting it wash over me. Sometimes all you want to do is lie down under the sheer overwhelming terror; 'how will I pay the rent this month?", "will I ever get a job?" etc. We panic most about situations over which we have the least control. And at twenty-something control over our life is absolutely vital. It is central to our being, because we are beginning to shape and define who we are.

The truth is, having less control may actually open up more avenues of opportunity. By letting go we open up to chance, and in fact Life itself comes at us.

So after wallowing well into the afternoon I strolled downtown in the sunshine to Salsa. I caught a glimpse of my hair in a shop window & just walked straight into the nearest hairdressers I could find.
I hate the hair dressers. I hate people coming near my hair with scissors, because having such long hair all they ever seem to want to do is chop it all off.
This lovely asian lady greeted me and after giving her strict instructions about what I wanted she combed it all out and smiled at me.
"You must have man"
"Hmm.. yes, I suppose"
"You either have or you haven't, which is it?"
I grinned up at her, my head eerily superimposed on this vast black triangle. "I have man, but not here. He's in London."
She gave me a puzzled look & shrugged. "You leave him for here?"
"Yes. I don't quite know why."
"You young. Be happy. Much time for that. Much much."
We grinned at each other, I asked her about her man and she said not anymore. But once. Advised me to find an Australian boy, French man aren't to be trusted and then chopped away.
"You like me. You come back in two month."
I smiled and tipped her 5 bucks and left.

Sometimes you have to cut out the dead ends, cut short the panic and lighten the load on your shoulders.
Focus on the positives. Like the one you love and who loves you. Or the good friend who listens to you over a glass of wine.
Focus on all the opportunities this change may bring.

Because you will bounce back.

There is only so long that you can do things for someone before you realise you need to put yourself first.
The age old phrase of bringing a camel to water but the bugger still won't drink is still relevant a millennia later.
Putting yourself out there for others may be a part of who you are, it may be your way of showing you care. It may in fact be your most prized quality amongst your friends. You are known for your selflessness. The person they know they could call on Christmas Day if needs be.
It is a wonderful thing to be.
But it is also a very draining responsibility.

You can encourage, support and aid those you love in all they do but if the person won't push the ball of struggle up the hill themselves then why are you still standing behind them shouting words of encouragement?
Your ball still needs dragged up this hill of life the same as any other & who is there for you ?
I am not advocating selfishness, I am saying look out for yourself.

Don't always be the one who loves most. Because love should not validate your actions or give you purpose.

My latest tv series obsession;Girls, written by and starring Lena Dunham. A writer, actress and director at the age of 26. The show mixes beautiful 'Juno' style realism with some 'Sex and The City' undertones, only much less glamorous. I am inspired by Dunham's career and her writing. I regularly scream 'Someone is stealing my life' at the screen with each episode. Between disastrous lovers, empty bank accounts & bad decisions it strikes a chord with a part of life that isn't written about: The early 20s of the average woman trying to make it in a city.
This is about Hannah, a little overweight, alot broke & completely unemployed. A writer struggling with a dead end internship and determined parents. Not another Carrie Bradshaw. Thank God.

In one episode a very telling quote which struck me and has stayed with evidently was
'If he's not reading your writing, he's not reading you'.
If your friend or loved one isn't actively as interested and supportive in your life as you are in theirs then perhaps you need to think about why that is.
We are what we do & we become what we think.
If the person we love isn't interested in whatever our passion is then they aren't interested in us or who we are. Putting yourself first is soo much easier said than done, but in the long run it is less exhausting than supporting and loving someone who doesn't do the same for you.

Hold yourself more dear, expect the same from your friends and lovers.
Don't accept shit excuses and inattention because you wouldn't treat you like that.

Life is simply too bloody short.

It's Valentines day. My day was unexpectedly full of good things. Starting with the IT guy in my office giving me chocolate. Pleasing result considering I thought he'd been staring at my chest all week. He probably has, if I had standards I wouldn't have eaten it but I don't.

This was followed by one of those conversations that leaves your stomach doing somersaults with a certain man who has my heart like melted butter in a croissant; deeply layered and bad for you. But oh so good. French butter. The kind Julia stiles could only dream of.

The day dragged on & I began to daydream about things that may never happen. The bad things & all the worries of the tomorrows that may or may not ever come to pass. The way you do at 3pm after your third green tea of the day and a full inbox. This was until I was pulled up by my ears by my best friend who is freezing her tits off in the bowels of England teaching wretches for pennies. She basically slapped me about with reality for a while thank god. We all need someone who is willing to tell us what we need to hear & not always just what we want to hear. Only true friends have the balls to tell it to you straight.
Follow this by a very emotional youtube video of US Marines surprising their loved ones and I'm feeling suitably positive and appreciative of life.

That is until I have thwacked my way through several dozen walking rose bushes, pushed past the women dragging boxes wider than themselves & just generally hissed & spat my way down most of Elizabeth street where I get to salsa and we decide to warm things up a little with a glass of bubbly.
Definitely a good idea as there were more couples on bad first dates than ever before.

Fast forward a few trodden toes, my bruised ego & we are back at the pub.
Conversation ensues & it turns out everyone is keen on this. We all want to get it right. I want to get over myself and 'let it go' the irony being all too obvious I know. The guys want to get the steps down & lead & the women just want to be lead.

We are all looking for a partner with whom it will all just click. Did you see what I did there? Yet another relationship metaphor. But it is the truth. Come right down to it & every individual wants to get it just right with the right partner.

Its just you have to let go of all the other crap first.

And it's not until I sit on the tram home, noticing the scuffs on her heels, that he hasn't ironed his shirt, that her skirt is too short & she's conscious about it, he's got a rip in his jeans & she looks a little sunburnt, but that they all look happy. That I remember, that life & love for that matter are not about perfection.

It is not about getting it right. It is about the scuffs and the creases. The rips & the burns.
It's about making all the mistakes with someone willing to make them with you.

To the older lady on the city loop train this morning whose died her hair pink.
Rock on!

So I would say I'm a pretty strong woman, in fact I would go as far to say that I am independent & head strong to a fault.
Never has this been more clearly spelt out for me than at salsa class where I have been asked, more than a few times to 'let me lead you' by my partner.

Is this a metaphor?

I'm going with it.

The fact is I don't trust any man to lead me, made abundantly clear by the fact that I still forget to step back when dancing as my partner leads.
It feels slightly wrong & submissive in a way I haven't encountered. For all you sinners who've read that nasty Grey book you may recognise that term. There's a special circle in hell waiting for us.

My question is why?
When evidently what I want most is a man to lead me, both in life & on the dance floor. Why aren't I physically and probably subconsciously open to being lead?
Am I so consumed by the exhausting task of endlessly proving myself to all an sundry that I cannot (wait for the irony here) let go?

Would it be soo bad if I stuck to the cliche of I haven't met a man who could yet?
Or would that truth be too ironic?
I possibly have & yet we have never danced together. Or been on a date. Or even have a photo together in existence. In social media terms 'we' do not exist. Isn't that a funny thought ?

If I relaxed & loosened up maybe just maybe I could get over myself & get that across body turn right that I royally stuffed up because either I was leading him or too focused on where I was going that I was out of time.
Enough of the dance metaphors.
It's confusing reading it back even for me.

As usual I need to take my own advice.

Be open to being lead, whether by a man or by others ideas. You never know where your feet may take you.

Communication can be a bit like the guy who told the group he only came to salsa class because his therapist told him to.
You avoid it & him like the plague. Same shit different smell as a good Jewish friend recently told me.
Nothing changes you just avoid it.
It can't be just me?

I live in a bubble of denial, I throw myself around the globe & my heart with me like nobodies business, say its all fine & then get my mother to call me from Northern Ireland at 1am because homesickness has finally caught up with me.
Reality rape essentially.
And it's entirely my own fault.

You have to be aware of what's going on & how that impacts on you & others in your life. If you choose not to communicate there will be problems & you will fall down a rabbit hole of emotion where you won't even need a little label saying 'drink me' for encouragement.
Learn to be open to talking about your emotions. If you feel shit then say so. Don't do this western passive aggressive crap that soo many woman have perfected these days.

If the sex isn't good. Say so. Coz otherwise it won't get better.
If you don't accept shit sex then don't accept feeling down & not saying something about it. Don't be too proud to just lay it out; how you feel & maybe, if you don't already know, you'll figure out why.

Online communication however is a completely different kettle of fish. A phrase I have never understood as why would you put fish in a kettle anyway.

If you send someone two emails over two days & then maybe a FB msg in reply to their reply from the previous day then you may find yourself on a park bench outside your salsa class blogging just to ignore the rising sense of anxiety that comes with doubt.
Oh fuck.

Regardless, say it. Because if you don't you might get hacked to death by the guy who you ignored last week because his therapist made him come & you will never get that chance to clear the air, appreciate or love that person you wanted to reach out to.

So yeah, I love you.

Doesn't that feel better?

Time to cucaracha !

X

Letting go is rather like a bikini wax. You know you need to do it, you know it's good for you, you know you can't bare yourself again without it. But it hurts like fuck.
Sometimes you even pay someone for the privilege of helping you. Forty eight bucks in my case, at Brazillian Butterfly in Richmond.

So as I lay there this afternoon in the awkwardly primary coloured themed treatment room the old thought came to me. "Fuck, I'm in Australia" & then Rip.
Let rip.
I have let go of a huge chunk of my life this past year. Soo much change has washed over me and come to pass that it really does catch me some times.

I have graduated uni with a 2.1, I have paid off all my overdraft & credit card as well as buying a flight & visa, I have moved 10,000 miles away & I have started a new life out here complete with job, flat & savings. In two & 1/2 weeks I'm going to Sydney. I have let go of soo much in order to get to this point. All of life is an act of letting go. You accept all that has come to pass to grow to be the person whose ready for what comes next. So as I handed over my 50 dollar note I smiled to myself as I realised that at 22 I no longer blush or feel ashamed about who I am or where I have been. I simply let it go.

At 22 I am becoming a veteran of the dating world. I have online dated, I have speed dated, I have salsa classed & I have committed the cardinal sin of blind dating. But then with the internet who isn't blind anymore.

My last salsa class was going well up until the moment where I pointed out to my partner, (a bald man with a Hawaiian shirt) that this was all rather like a wheel of fortune but with cock.
My last fore into internet dating led to my best friend & I lying on our single beds in onesies with facebook open in one window messaging each other & Plenty of fish open in another whiling away the evening pressing the refresh button. In the dire hopes that the psycho path who had been messaging us both for the past week had replied.
In the end, nearly a year later, she ended back up with her ex of four years & I with the boy I met at uni two years before. It was all a massive waste of time.

Now I'm not shitting all over internet dating. I am shitting on our approach to dating as a whole. I mean what is the point in all this effort spent when the guy is or was probably right under your nose?

If he isn't then just stop. We have a phrase in Ireland; 'Would ye quit?' So just do that. Stop.
Get on with it. Get on the plane to Australia that leaves the man you finally realise you've loved all along behind. Because that's a better idea than staying in London where you haven't a clue what you would do so run away to the sunshine.
Not such a good idea, granted. I am a hypocrite. But my point is that life is short & if we all stopped searching so much & took time just to deal with our own shit then maybe we'd be a better person by the time he / she found us.
This comes from the woman who google searches her ex and stalks a certain relative's instagram and twitter in the hopes of a mention of the engagement that we have all been expecting since 2009.

Internet dating was exhausting. You would check it obsessively. It was like the sexy version of Facebook only instead of a friend request you got an ego boost & possibly a glass of wine if by the 10th message he had finally asked you out. There was soo much to-ing and fro-ing that eventually my nickname amongst close friends became the human-calendar because I had that many dates. I sound arrogant but it was purely because I was determined. Determined to be entertained? Perhaps. Determined to meet the one? Certainly.

But why ? I was 20, practically a foetus & yet I was clawing away at the dating scene like a mid 30s crone with an unfortunately placed mole.
What is it about love and life that sets a fire under us that cannot be put out until we have met someone? And what the hell do we do once we've met someone but go and fuck it all up anyway?

I know for myself I have had to seriously teach myself to be happy alone. My mantra being that 'I am lonely, but I am not alone'. I have wonderful friends, a mad hatter family and a very good life. I have had to self-validate because that is worth more than the validation I seek from others. If I put importance on seeking and gaining the approval of others then how will I approve of myself in spite of others.
Teaching yourself to love yourself is a life long journey. But if you start down the path too late it becomes soo much harder to forgive all the things you told yourself you hated for all those years.

My mother has drilled into me to 'take the fucking compliment'. The man I love tells me to 'repeat after me, I am wonderful' & yet here we are & I am one of many women who won't look in the mirror when I get in or out of the shower. I mean seriously. If you cannot love who you are then who can? The list of these sort of self-help anecdotes is endless & frankly I find them patronising. But in truth, if you don't start sorting out the fucked up child within early on in adult life it is only going to lead to chaos later on. I know this because I have met my parents.

How do you do this ?
You start listening to your thoughts and the re-occurring negativity that circles that brain of yours and reinforces all the things that make you believe the negative things you think about yourself.
   For example, I hate my arms. I am 5ft 11" with a 36F chest & wear a size 14. Yes I am an hour glass but when I eat and drink how I please I look more like rugby player. This is my negative thought pattern. I tell myself I have huge shoulders & man arms. I don't, obviously. So I tell myself to like my wrists, and then my arms & I tell myself to stop looking at my arms in shop windows. I make myself consciously choose to challenge that negative thought. That is an irrational thought. You don't look like a rugby player, but for gods sake straighten your back.

Sound familiar?

Try it. It isn't a simple case of telling that negative thought to fuck off, more saying why do I think that, is it actually true, no, its rubbish I tell myself, ok then stop. Shut up. It isn't true. My arms are fine. Not rugby like at all. Wash & Repeat.

Your biggest relationship in life is with yourself. If you cannot accept most of who you are, if not all, then how can you expect anyone else to love all of you the way that you want to be loved.

You do not need to love someone to love yourself .You do not need to be loved in order to love yourself. You need to learn to love yourself, slowly, body part by body part. One negative thought at a time.

Good luck.