22 & not a clue

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. 

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.

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.

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.