22 & not a clue

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

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.

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 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.

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.

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.

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.