I Want to Be Beautiful, but Not Look Like You

It’s normal to hear girls say, “I wish I looked like…” ‘somebody’ whose looks are accomplished with a team of make-up artists, stylists, hairdressers and airbrushing. It’s an even stronger wish when the person’s looks they covet are naturally beautiful. That just puts salt in the wound, ‘the wound’ being how you feel about your reflection. Believing you’re not pretty enough for whoever or whatever is common.

Now, if this was my reflection in the morning I might wake up with a pep in my step.

The strange thing about feeling as though you want to look like someone else, is that you realise that if you exchange your eyebrows for hers then a piece of you would disappear. Not just the physical eyebrow but a little piece of your identity. As much as you dislike aspects of your face – and oh how I understand the utter despair of being genetically cursed – the thing is that those aspects make up you, they’ve been with you for your whole life in various sizes and they’re what you recognize as being yourself. Am I my mind? Am I this face? Or is it a combination of both that gives me my identity?

I have never really found supermodels attractive; this baffles most people. It’s just that they’re supposed to be the pinnacle of beauty, objects of prettiness sexiness and desire, long-legged coat-hangers… As such, you begin to view their made-up image in an objectified way. When viewing people this way, it is easy to become hyper-critical. It’s easy to not want anything less-than perfect when something ‘perfect’ is in front of you. It’s also easy to say, “well it’s not even perfect because look at her ghastly so-and-so…”

Man, what a pile of dog-vomit.

Contrastingly, when it comes to those I know in real life (and even the characters in television shows that I love, because they love me back I swear) this hyper-critical viewing of people’s looks disappears. I don’t notice, or I don’t care, or I actually find attractive your lopsided facial structure, or your crooked bottom teeth. Those things are just parts of the thing I like looking at: your face. Especially when you smile, or do that look when you think, or lean your cheek on your hand. Perhaps to you, friend or favourite character, these facial habits make you cringe when you catch site of them in a mirror, but I see them as being you how you are, and since I like you for who you are I also like and treasure that face of yours. Having a beautiful heart honestly does make your appearance more lovely.

An excellent Ted talk video by model Cameron Russell where she shows pictures of herself as a model, and pictures just of herself highlights some interesting inside info on what it’s like to model. Strangely, I found I’d rather steal the features of the ‘regular’ girl over the model girl, despite them being the exact same person. It’s not that the model image is ugly, it’s not that I’m taking some kind of noble, goodie-goodie high-road by saying that I prefer the natural, it’s just that it is very rare for me to see beauty I desire in an advertisement or fashion shoot. That kind of beauty is otherworldly and something I couldn’t handle if it magically popped onto my frame. She also talks about how models are probably some of the most insecure women out there, and judging just from the way I regard their images, it’s no wonder. Video links to youtube in new tab. 

I always think that if I’m going to attain perfection, then I’m going to need to have perfect skin, blue eyes, blonde hair, high cheek bones, soft lips… basically, the Aryan dream, (side-note: finding these combination of features lovely does not make you a racist or a Neo-Nazi, I also find darker hair and features attractive, cheers) but then when I come across images of blonde women, none of them are good enough. What is wrong with my perception? Why aren’t these girls, with looks 10x those of mine, not elligible for my dream looks? Am I an awful human being or is there just no such thing as a ‘perfect dream face’?

Eugh. Ugly as.

Now, if these blondies were my friends then I would probably actually find them incredible looking. If they were my favourite television actors I’d find them incredible. As nameless blonde-haired faces on my screen or in my magazine who I don’t have a connection to – nope. not pretty enough. Also, see I can’t take the looks of somebody who I like because then they would cease to exist. (Point in this post where I realised I sound mentally ill).

I’ve never been fully able to wish that I looked like anyone different, I’ve always been held back by thinking that if I’m going to look different then I will be different. This isn’t so bad in dreamland where you can have extra personality, but I tend to think about how I just couldn’t pull off someone else’s looks. I wouldn’t be good enough for their looks. They wouldn’t suit me. I couldn’t be me with them. This is puzzling because though I am often angry at myself just for being me I don’t know how I would give up my whole being to become someone else permanently. Man, I sure am taking this “I wish I looked like…” thing seriously, aren’t I?

I would love to walk around in this body and have you hair. And the way you move. Can I be you? Wait, I don’t think I’d know how to be this way… I’m too scared. Too scared of the perfection.

Maybe there is some weight to the sentiment “love the skin you’re in”. It’s hard to love the skin you’re in if it isn’t what you deem beautiful, but since there will never be a chance for me to inhabit young Jennifer Aniston’s body, I may as well get used to my own head. I also may as well relax about the wishing you looked different thing; it can’t ever actually happen, so maybe I should just enjoy the fantasy of being attractive. Mmm, just pretending my legs are long and my teeth are perfect. Feels good for now.

Captions about models being ugly are sarcastic.

Glorious Sadness

For the most part, stories end well. That’s kind of how our story-telling works: character gets into conflict, then the conflict is resolved and he’s okay again. In fact, he’s probably better than before.

Sometimes, though, stories don’t follow this formula exactly and that ‘it’s now okay’ sentiment above proves false. Sometimes, characters end up in way worse situations than what they started with. These are the books that give you a downlift over an uplift. These are a sampling of the books that have tugged my heart the most, two of them actually made a tear roll down my cheek. But just one tear, one manly, strong tear. Pfft, I don’t sob over fiction. Whatever.

1. Wuthering Heights, by Emily Bronte
You can’t really say that this ended well for Heathcliffe and Cathy. It wasn’t the romantic love story you get used to from movies but the what happens when 2 really flawed people fall for each other but it doesn’t work out.

2. Beloved, by Toni Morrisson 
This was the kind of story where the lives of the characters are so wrapped up in bad pasts that the guilt / depressive feel / no-escape is suffocating. Plus, who doesn’t feel super happy when people slit the throats of babies? Laugh a minute right there.

3. The Kite Runner by Khalid Hoessini 
Though the book ends on the slightest of hopes, there’s no denying that there’s enough bad bits to make you wonder why the kid didn’t attempt suicide sooner. Story of how life, country, situation and relationships with parents affect the friendship of two children from different privileges. Man, I’m sensing a theme for dragging your readers through turmoil here: make the bad stuff happen to kids.

4. Heart of Stone by Renate Dorrestein
Yeah, the bad stuff happening to kids doesn’t end above. The children of a loving couple suffer when their mother develops post-natal depression after her last baby. Your heart will stop during the scene with the mother and baby in the bathroom, and the search for a safety pin. The bad childhood doesn’t end in adulthood, either. Yeah, not every character gets over the shit that happened to them when they were young.

And that was the last time they ever went barefoot.

5. The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka
I began the story thinking that the character would eventually not be a giant bug by the end… unfortunately, good things just don’t happen people who transform over night into different creatures.

6. The Crucible by Arthur Miller
Situated during the Salem witch trials, you quickly realise – against your will – that the bad, lying people are going to triumph over the good, moral people. You know how bad that feels? Really bad. And totally real because that’s generally what happens in reality.

7. Nineteen Minutes by Jodi Piccoult
About a highschool shooting, which is pretty much a good enough setup for tragedy but Piccoult adds in a sub-story that seems as sad. Again, a book that involves young people. I know that Jodi Piccoult is known for her tear-jerkers, but this is the only one of her books that I’ve read so I’m not sure what’s the biggest tragedy out of all of them.

8. The Boy in The Striped Pajamas
Centred around the holocaust and one German boy on the right side of the fence (for a while) the story shows the innocence of children. You have to read it with ‘a pinch of salt’ and remember it’s fiction because some little things don’t make sense.

9. I’m Not Scared by Nicolo Ammanti
The bad things happening to kids just does not end! One summer, five friends discover the secrets of their town and parents, and innocence and life are lost.

“Man, killing your parents is going to make such a great story. You heard of Batman? Don’t worry, you’ll be just like him when you grow up. Except poor.”

10. This Charming Man by Marian Keyes
I believe this book falls under the genre of chick-lit, and I was led to believe that chick-lit didn’t have any scenes of domestic abuse, just love and silly squabbles. Oh, how wrong you can be. Told from multiple perspectives that was at first annoying but then awesome, the book shows how one man can manipulate many women in his own douchey, sexist way. Want to read something where a lady gets punched in the throat? This book is for you. Charming stuff.

11. The Alison Rules by Catherine Clark
Okay, don’t judge for me this because this one is a tween book but  I read it when I was a tween. I hadn’t really read any sad books before, and it hit me quite hard when the character’s best friend suffers an ill-fate. If you want your 13 year old to cry – give her this book. Start ‘em on the misery of fiction and life nice and young. Like all the characters in these books.

Honorable mention: The Pillars of the Earth by Ken Follet for including a character so beastly you wanted to punch the pages.
Oh, and of course: Othello and Hamlet. But you expect that with plays under the genre ‘tragedy’.

There are a lot of other books I have read where bad things happen to characters to the point where you don’t know if there’s any goodness in the world any more, but these were the ones where the good resolution didn’t happen. I do believe – if I can recall correctly – that the last 2 ended well, but the rest didn’t have the happily ever afters that you expect when heading into a book. So I guess this list is actually lacking a lot of sad books that could technically be included.

A story with a tragic ending does not necessarily make a for a tragically awful book, however. Even if children die and adults are awful to each other, the writing, story and characters can still be interesting. Saddest thing you’ve ever read? Book where the ending never became happy?

3 Years On

I realised that you were a good match for me when I found someone who also enjoyed mocking Bob Dylan’s singing voice. This is a legitimate reason for dating someone, right? I knew I loved you when we were at the cinema watching Toy Story 3 in 3D. Have you ever looked to the person sitting next to you and felt a demanding, heavy rush of love? It bubbles over. Terrifies and comforts. Excites and relaxes. All that stuff you’ve probably heard before. I still get the same rush when I look at you by accident.

The Ultimate Romance

Today is one of those special relationship days because we’ve reached year 3, and it both feels like it’s been 10 years and 1 year. I hate to be soppy, but well, I can’t help it today. Right now I just want to walk up to strangers, spin them around so they’re facing me, point my finger in their face and yell “HEY MAN I LOVE SOMEONE, HOW GREAT IS THAT?!” I don’t know if this is the correct way to express these feelings, however, so a peaceful blog post will do instead.

“HE MADE ME A BOUQUET OF FLOWERS FOR OUR 2 MONTH ANNIVERSARY AND HASN’T SINCE BECAUSE I HAVE HAYFEVER, WHAT A SWEETHEART”

The memories that stand out to me include…
The time we bought 2 mice that we were promised were brothers that turned into a sister and brother coupling that had 11 babies. My favourite was a tiny grey one named Effy, but I also had a soft spot for the black, hunky mouse named Denzel Washington.

We went to the Wildlife Park once, and let’s face it – anything to do with animals makes me happy. We pet a snake, saw the crocodile being fed, watching the funny lizards go nuts in their tank (they were 2 foot long, so it was kind of scary) and shared lunch while watching the birds.

It’s all fun and games feeding the kangaroo, but when the Emu’s show up you had better run.

This little guy was on his back and that bastard tortoise over there bit his foot for 10 minutes. Animals are dicks.

When I came for a sleepover, one of the first, you filled a drawer with my favourite candy and bought a bunch of awesome television shows. We spooned and sucked lollipops, and it was a comfortable cocoon of sweetness and warmth. Gag on that cheesy-ness.

You are a great dancer (at least in my eyes) and the early part of our relationship spent dancing until it was late are some of my fond memories. So are our walks at 2am on the dark, empty streets. There was nothing but orange street lamps and my hand in yours, placed warmly in your fuzzy pocket.

We saw my friend perform in her circus class and ate pizza with her family afterwards. I remember this because of how sleepy and comfortable I felt when we got home that night at 2am. Plus, she performed tricks so well.

Travelling the hours to see your family in another town makes me feel like part of the family. They’re lovely and have awesome food – the quickest way to my heart.

Plus, they have friendly chickens. Woah!

Spending the last 3 New Year’s Eves with you and your special punch makes me happy – you’re satisfied to spend the night just with me but this year I promise we will do something perkier. I will not fall asleep at 9 and wake up grumpy at 11. I will not drink alcohol in the heat. I hope.

Eating out with you makes me feel good. I don’t mind sitting in silence, but we rarely do that. We haven’t run out of things to talk about yet. We still have interesting, emotive, entertaining discussions. I love to hear you opinions and tell you mine.

We climbed to the top of a tower with friends and looked at the whole, dark city, peppered with lights. Being scared of heights impeded the climb but so did the fact that I thought there would be a murderer waiting at the top. Who says my imagination is over-active? Standing high up over the bushland in your embrace with friends is a feeling of thrilling happiness.

Jokes, too, are great. Everyday we laugh – really, properly laugh. You’re hilarious, that’s why. Witty one liners, in-jokes or simple ridiculousness makes sure there is laughter everyday. Surely this is a key to happiness.

Fights end with ‘let’s just talk it through’ instead of ‘fuck you’ screaming. We sort everything out, and move on the same day we get mad. Thankfully.

It’s impossible to describe a relationship. I’m sure there are some people who think they know all about mine, but I’ve learned that it’s impossible to know anybody else’s relationships no matter how much you think they tell you. When I text a friend to say “wah J be’ed mean 2 me” (because that’s so how I text) they probably think that my relationship is entirely bad, that I’m terribly unhappy with it and there’s nothing good in it. This is a lie: I vent feelings very quickly when I get cranky, but deep down I know I’m happy. People don’t see that by the time an hour has passed, I’m happy again. Luckily, this happens rarely. Still, it shows me that relationships are between 2 people always.

I’m glad to be with someone who makes me feel better 99% of the time, who makes me smile and laugh everyday, who plays everyday, who can be serious, who shows up when he says he will, who gets me everything I ask for (as in, cups of water when I’m thirsty, not diamonds, I’m not that spoiled) who rubs my feet everyday, who makes me plan things for the future, who let’s me jab them in the neck every morning. Whoops.

I look forward to the places we will go and the things we will do.

I guess you don’t have to explain happiness, it just is. I’m glad I found someone who makes things better, not worse, and who doesn’t seem to be going anywhere soon. I only hope that I make them happier, too.

Happy Anniversary, you big cute shit.

The Things We Did in Childhood

When I was 12, my best-friend turned to me and sighed, “You have such an interesting life.” A decade on, I am now the one sighing this to her, but at the time even if it was true, I didn’t notice that mine was any more interesting than hers or our classmates. To a child, whatever circumstances they are surrounded by, these become their norm.

I think kids are excellent adventure seekers, even the shy ones. A forest reached by climbing a wire fence is a magical fairy land. Strolling through the undergrowth, feeling the low-growing ferns, climbing the flaky-bark trees and taking off shoes to walk through streams are all fantastic adventures to have when you’re 9. Once, my sister and I went through a large forest area behind the home of an amazing woman,  where we found a creek with a strong current. We removed our shoes, rolled up our pants and made our way down the stream looking for anything special. However, we looked up at the same time to realise that a giant, black bull was drinking from the creek right across from us. 2 terrified children hauled butt, grabbed their shoes and ran faster than an Olympic sprinter.

Finding your way through a maze is pretty difficult. Especially if that ‘maze’ is a drainage system that runs through town. We once took an adventure through the creek system of our town and it took some effort! One girl cut her toe open and ripped her shirt, but the rest of us were much better at wending through stone paths, wire fences and tunnels. We came out of the system quite a few blocks from the original location and had to traipse back home thirsty, tired but with a good fill of the accomplished explorer.

I couldn’t find a picture, but this is how they begin and look in sections. We walked through the parts that were smaller.

We also used to enjoy sneaking out of the house in search of chocolate. Together, we would only have about $8, but with that you can buy an alright Easter egg. We would walk along the highway, cut through the carpark of the shopping complex and then explore the shopping mall. We only did this a couple of times, but we were frequent visitors of the display-homes complex (a block where all the houses have been built and decorated for show as examples for the building companies customers) a few blocks away. Amazing houses! Wonderfully decorated! …and our playrooms. Who gets what room? The one decorated like a sailors boat? The one that is entirely gold? Once, though I wasn’t there to see, someone actually cooked in the display kitchen with the display pan and the onions. Because kids don’t care if you’ve spent an hour making the show-house look great for potential home owners, their imaginations are telling them that this is their own adventure home.

Like a McDonald’s playground!

Picnics at nighttime at a local park near your house are great. Especially without parents! Heading off to go buy a box of hot chips and chicken then setting up shop over the road under the playground makes dinner time that much better. Unless someone has to pee and brave the dark toilet block – that’s when it’s time to find your way back home before someone wets themselves.

Ours did not resemble this but this looks like a great idea.

Going to a theme park is pretty fun when you’re a kid, but have you ever gone to one without an adult? Sure, it’s difficult convincing the people to let you in but once they do you get a free reign at an adventure land! Rides, displays, characters dressed up, food, pools – all awesome. Except when your brother and sister get on a ride you don’t want a turn on and the ride ends at a different location than where you get on so you have to run all over the park looking for your family. Though the dramatic run and hug with squeals when you finally find each other is nice. Oh and getting sick at a water park with no parents to take you home sucks. So is losing your brother at the water park and having to be in charge of finding him. Actually, don’t send your young children to theme parks without you. It kinda sucks. Send them when they’re older.

I cried while lining up for this ride so ran back down where a strange man gave me a sexy ‘damn’… when I was 12. Creepy. To be honest I cried on like, every ride. Don’t take me to theme parks.

I don’t think I would ever send my future children to an adventure park alone, but the nature walks and town explorations don’t seem too bad. My friends and I were never ‘bad’ children – we didn’t swear at random citizens, or vandalize things, or steal anything – we just kept to ourselves and enjoyed our freedom. Nothing bad ever happened besides that cut toe and ripped shirt, we always returned safe and sound. Would you trust your own children today to explore a forest or swim in a creek? More than that, would you trust the rest of society to let your children be adventurers in peace? Today, it seems like the ‘good’ kids are kept inside and the well, little ferals, are allowed to terrorize the streets while sculling energy drinks and starting fights at McDonalds. I would love for those future kids to learn about freedom, to manage time, how to be safe when out, being responsible for themselves, but it’s hard to know if they’ll be safe while doing it.

It would just be nice if ours wasn’t the last generation to run away from wild bulls or have picnics in the dark or become firm friends through riding a bike.

How I Get Through a Migraine

If you’re someone who suffers from migraines, then you may want to read this post in case one of my tips happens to work for you too – and likewise, feel free to leave your own tips in case they work for me!

Basically.

I really do believe that migraines are part of your genetics in a family sense. There are more women in my family affected by these things than just me, and this suggest a family link. However, it could just be a big coincidence. I first had a migraine when I was 11. I felt awful and had no idea what was going on – migraine is different feeling from a regular headache. A trip to the doctor confirmed what it was and that it was probably triggered by lights and he gave me a needle, I spewed on his carpet and felt instantly better.

Unfortunately I can’t afford tp and don’t always have time to visit the doctor for every migraine to get a needle to clear it up and the cure relies on me fixing it. Identifying triggers is a good way to keep a handle on them and I don’t get as many as I used to after discovering them all and avoiding those things as best as I can.
Triggers for me include: 

• Lights. Not specifically bright ones, but more how the light catches my eye or bounces off surfaces. The neutral, muted colours and muted lights of big buildings like universities and hospitals can give me one for instance, as well as some projectors. Hard to totally avoid as you don’t know what building will have them before you go in.
• Hormonal changes that occur naturally in your body. Impossible to avoid forever. 
• Straight sugar. Long gone are the days when I can lick whizz fizz. Rich cake is also a no.
• Stress.
• Spasms in the eye that happen when tired. Uncontrollable.
• Very loud noises. Outside of one’s control.
• Any food with orange food colouring (I discovered it was the colouring and not flavouring by being able to eat orange tic tacs migraine free!)
• Tension in neck and back
• Tooth aches / pressure on teeth caused by a dodgy orthodontist. What a bi-atch.

So! To cope when I get one…

+ Because I don’t ingest caffeine on a day to day basis, drinking Coke helps. Luckily, I stopped drinking soft drink everyday a couple of months ago so I don’t get as many sugar ones. Only drink 1 cup though, you only need a little caffeine / sugar hit.
+ Water after the cup of Coke, and a few sips of a sports drink. For all those sports I do when I have a migraine of course.
+ Actually, sometimes depending on the type of migraine, doing something light active helps. A bit of cleaning or walking.
+ Sleep. Sleep actually doesn’t work for every kind.
+ Eat spaghetti. Yep! Carb it up. I don’t know why but a few pasta noodles with a bit of tomato helps. Or something a bit salty.
+ Ice pack on the forehead, top of the head or back of the neck.
+ A foot rub or / and a face massage.
+ Don’t let hair fall on your face but don’t tie it back tightly.
+ Watching television from a distance. This might sound nuts but actually, so long as it’s not a show with flashing lights, this provides a distraction from the pain and doesn’t require much work for the eyes. Do not read or look at the computer, though.
+ Light. Some people say pitch black is what they need but this strains my eyes unless I am sleeping. Sitting in the dark does not work – I need ample light to see so I don’t have to strain.
+ Dissolve-able aspirin.
+ Silence. Like some people need pitch blackness, I need silence. I unplug everything and just pray nobody yells. (The television at an okay volume is okay for some migraine forms ^ because there are different levels and kinds)
+ Lastly, if I can manage it, vomiting. Go ahead! Throw up! It will help! Unless you’re me and have a body that takes 3 hours to vomit. Seriously, a stomach flu for me goes on for so much longer than other people because my body insists on being at that pre-vomit state (you know just before you do it) for 2 – 5 hours. Not kidding. I hope the talk of vomit has not disgusted you.

The worst thing about migraines, though? People telling you how you should be avoiding them as if you’re giving one to yourself on purpose. I had somebody tell me once, “it’s a pretty good excuse because you can’t prove it.” she was someone who had taken it upon herself to be personally offended by my illness (illness is correct to describe this?) and to tell me how I should be dealing with them…. despite not suffering them. It’s times like this I wish I was the type of person who tells nosy people to ‘fuck off’. You can prove a migraine simply by looking at the person’s white face, unfocused eyes, wobbly balance, squinting, vomiting, falling down etc. and generally looking they want to die. You know. Anyway, thank you people who don’t suffer from migraines for trying to help but sometimes, you’re not helping at all – you’re just acting like we’re doing the wrong things on purpose and aren’t trying to fix them. I avoid all my triggers as best I can and no longer suffer migraines every 2 days like I used to, and I do it without medication, a feat I’d say.

May a migraine cure be found soon. Identify triggers, avoid them and get through them as best you can and if you live somewhere with good healthcare visit a free hospital for one of those needles or drips to stop bad ones in their tracks! Good luck, fellow sufferers!

Being a Hermit Sucks

When we were younger, a friend and I used to joke about her becoming a hermit when she grew old. I promised that I would bring her groceries and leave them by the door. It seemed like a great idea at the time; retreating from the world, not having to deal with people, doing what you want when you want. Unfortunately, the dream has been shattered this year for me.

The thing about living a hermit-esque lifestyle is that you get both lonely and bored. Days go by very quickly and you find yourself feeling sedentary. This week I have been starting my days with exercise instead of my usual roll out of bed, make the bed, sit on the bed and do some internet-ing from the bed. Not really ideal. Well, it certainly fills in an hour and gives me a happy, light feeling. The problem is that it gets me all motivated and ready for the day… a day which involves nothing but sitting alone with my homework and chores.

Ah I guess I’ll just keep watching the old ocean since I don’t have anything to do today. I’m cold.

Hanging out with friends is harder now because they all have wonderfully busy lives, while I am quite the opposite thanks to leaving a job and online study. Filling in days with mini triumphs is my new way of marking the passage of time: an appointment here, drinks at the pub there, driving lesson for good measure. One awesome triumph this week was the passing of my Hazard Perception Test. Oh yes, this blogger right here can safely recognize road hazards and is one step closer to being able to drive.

Very soon I will be on the roads and as my friends tell me, it will change my life. Walking the streets of my town alone can be a bit of a gamble. Just yesterday I witnessed the man in front of me walk into somebodies front yard , turn on their outside tap and wash his face. Two blocks before him it was a gang of leering teenage boys. Before them it was an angry junkie. Was I attacked or mugged by any of these people? No, but I prefer not to have crazies jeering at me from cars or walking too close behind me on the street or making me feel threatened on my block. Ladies who have to walk around by themselves will know the feeling I’m talking about! However from a car I won’t have to worry about whether I have enough energy left to make a run for it if the shirtless guy talking to himself decides he’d like to chat with me. I can visit friends and go places. Amazing! I also can’t wait to visit some towns nearby.

Freedom.

Ah, social interaction! People need it. As much as stowing away as a hermit for a while seems like fun, the truth is that you need regular contact with different people. Even a telephone call can brighten your day. I’m looking for work so that I have some structure and people in my life. People are social, and even for someone like me who likes alone time and can be tied over for a fortnight on one single social activity, you can’t be alone forever.

Besides, all this hermit-ness is sucking my inspiration dry. Talk about lack of ideas flowing! This is purely because I don’t see enough, hear enough, experience enough new and different things each day. Unless I write about monotony like this post… You have to seek inspiration, not wait for it to hit you. If you spend all your time doing the same things then eventually your mind will be sucked of all it’s enthusiasm and hope – you’ll just be left with a hollow feeling of needing something, someone, anything to get outside. It’s just that at the same time it stunts you from being able to do those things.

At least we have the internet? It’s a shame that interacting on the internet doesn’t fill you up as much as interacting in person. Nothing can give you that feeling of purpose and satisfaction like talking to a good friend face to face. In a couple of months I should (if all goes to plan) be driving, and then working, and writing and exercising and studying and blogging and playing and hey, suddenly the empty days will be filled up and I’ll be wishing that I had a little more time to just myself. Better savor this time.

How Many Followers Do You Need for 100 Likes?

I’m guessing that you need a lot, because while I see that many people I follow have well over 500 followers (some of you popular bastards have about 800) the posts themselves don’t often get over 40. This isn’t an indication of bad blogging, in fact, a lot of the time I read funny, honest, great posts that don’t get the kind of attention that you think would come from 700 followers. Buddies, if I could like your stuff 10 times I… probably wouldn’t unless it was really above par.

How I feel after writing that introduction.
Always watching, blogging pals, aallwaays watching.

Perhaps there is some kind of ratio in play. For every 100 followers you’re eligible for 1 like, or something. If I were a mathematician I could have worked out some kind of average / guide by now but sadly, I still count with my fingers. I do not believe that you need to have 100 likes for every post you write, because it’s all about the quality not the quantity (unless this is your pocket money giver) which I have written about before, but it is funny when you see a post you whipped up in 5 minutes get twice as much positivity as the one you spent more time and effort on.

There are bloggers out there getting 300 likes a post. I’ve seen them with my own eyes! Just over the mountain! And these people tend to have 2,000+ followers. When you think about it, that’s still quite a gap between followers : likes. Where is everyone? My theories – which I have totally spent heaps of time thinking about and aren’t just come up with right now, pfft – are as follows:
- Time differences. While you’re posting maybe your followers are sleeping then going to work and by the time they log on, your post is lost in the dust of the reader.
- They don’t remember when or why they followed you and are too lazy to click and remember, preferring to stick the ones they know.
- Your post was very specific on one certain topic that only concerns / interests other people from that specific thing.
- Their readers are broken.
- You wrote something offensive.
- And of course, people just didn’t really like it enough. (Not meaning it was bad, meaning people have individual tastes)

Because, you can’t please all of the people all of the time. 

But darn it if I didn’t wish I could. Imagine for a moment being so spectacular that nobody dislikes you. People don’t even resent you for being so well liked. You could have anything and everything. The drawback no doubt would be that your ego and sense of reality would warp until you became a horrible brat, but for a while it would be nice, right? Meanwhile, in reality, we’re here knowing that that’s impossible. So how do you appeal to a wider range of followers?

Ah yes, this would actually work.

Cats? Sex? Scandal? Brilliance? I don’t know, I apologise if you thought I would have answers. I just know that sometimes I read a wonderful post that gets 12 likes and an alright one that gets 67. People like what they want to like, and you can’t appeal to everybody’s interests at once. I guess you just have to write as well as you can and hope that people like it for real, and mostly, that you just have to write posts because you want to and not for the likes.

I haven’t been posting as regularly lately, mostly due to assignments and laziness, but I will hopefully have another posted this week. Perhaps something simple later today about life and all that jazz. Not that my life has any jazz in it. Should I have more jazz in my life? How’s your jazz life?

On Friendship

One of the saddest parts of growing older is that the number of friends you have goes down after highschool. People simply disappear into their own lives and journeys, and it can be a long time before you start building up new friendships. If you’re a shy person, well, you might have to prepare for some tough years of loneliness. Combat some shyness by taking a deep breath, smile, listen to the person, ask questions, just talk politely- it gets easier.

Making friends at high school is often as easy as sharing some jokes with the person you’re allocated to sit next to. Classmates are easy to make friends with – you’ve got 24 people to choose from and after a while you find you have something in common with someone, you talk, you sit with one another, you have lunch together and suddenly a year later you’re best friends. I wonder if this kind of approach would work for the real world. Do you think if I just like, follow someone nice looking around they’ll eventually accept me and agree to hang out? Work is another place where you are thrown together and so end up having to converse together, and eventually (or quickly, if your workmates are cool cats) you might become more than workmates (real mates, wow!).

Perhaps if I take my hood down she will know I just want to get a coffee, play scrabble, have a chat, you know, that kind of non-violent non-murderous thing.

It’s actually making a friend for real that’s harder. Finding someone who you just ‘click with’ and want to spend time with in a non-romantic way that is more difficult to find. I read a magazine article once by a woman who took up the challenge of making a friend. She asked her current friends and workmates to set her up on friend dates to see if there was anyone she got along with really well. After meeting with multiple women, she ended up with (I think) 1 new friend. The others didn’t work out, but she was surprised to find that all of the people who agreed to help her did so with enthusiasm and well-wishes. Apparently, it’s common for women to find themselves a little lonely as they get older. I am really very fortunate to have a partner that doubles as a best-friend who’s fun to do stuff with.

This is what we all need. Except it’s hard when you’re a Chandler.

Maintaining friendships is also harder than it was in highschool, or at your job – you don’t see them everyday. You have to put in effort and time. It doesn’t matter if you’re tired because of pesky things like working six days a week, having family commitments, study… if you want to keep friendships healthy you have to be prepared to ring them up, and see them. This is something that I know, but aren’t very good at practicing. I have to work on it or else when I whine, “I have nooo friiiennnds” it will be really true. Sleepovers were my favourite past-time when I was younger, but there’s something less easy about them now – we all have more things to do than play the sims and eat chips, unfortunately. ‘We’ referring to my friends, I’m in my pajamas on a Friday eating chips and blogging.

Ah, I know what I need to do! Lock a bunch of different people in a room with me for 8 hours and see where the fun takes us! Baring our tortured souls, smoking some dope, dancing to ’80s soundtracks… perfect recipe.

Being a good friend, is also hard. Damn, I am not making friendship look good in this post, am I? But they are, really. Friends are the people who we can hang out in the sun with, vent to, talk with, see a different perspective of yourself from, see other lives in play by, laugh with, cry with, and simply not feel lonely with. We make friends because we’re social creatures. However, it is true that making and maintaining friendships and being a good one can be hard. Do I have any tips? Well, I think it helps to let your friends know that your door is always open for a chat, to always be there at their birthday parties, to let them know you haven’t forgotten them, to send them links or things that they are especially interested in and to always say thankyou when they do the same for you. The little things that show you listen and care, you know.

All this talk(..ing, to myself.) is to muse on one thing. What kind of friend am I? Probably – most likely not a very good one. Do I want to be a better one? Yep! Can I be a better one? Let’s hope so! I’m going to be the Leo to your Kate, mates. 

If all the work you put in fails, that’s just the course of nature. Friendships dry up. It’s inevitable for some. I read something once about how most female relationships begin with becoming as close as you possibly can be – you talk about everything, but they often end in silence. They can fizzle. I don’t know how to stop that from happening. It’s just life and people. I just know that the ones that don’t are special and deserve your extra consideration, and that there’s always someone out there who could possibly be your newest friend. I don’t know when I’ll meet my next one, but when I do, I hope it’s lovely. And that they like midoori, horror movies, walks and sarcastic comments on things currently happening. Man, we’re going to have a great time.

Semi Related Youtube Video: Be My Friend! 

Future Pressure

Also, add in “not enough time” to the middle.

My constant emotional state lately could be classified as ‘terrifyingly paralyzing anxiety’. Basically, my age and circumstances have hit me quite hard. I was sitting in an appointment the other day with a man who asked, “Any qualifications since leaving school?” and while pretty much the entirety of my school year could have answered that question with ‘yes, I’m now doing honours in my awesome degree or heading off to work in my great job’, I had to look down and mumble ‘no’. Not one qualification. 

Why not? Short answer is that I am an idiot. An idiot who extended an original gap year by another 12 months, worked a pointless job for some extra money that hasn’t made any impact on my situation at all and who made the fatal female mistake of choosing a relationship over moving towns and pursuing education. Ladies, don’t do it. Drag him with you or go alone. For the record, my relationship is wonderful and we are very happy, but I can’t help but think we’d be happier if we were you know, going somewhere in life.

No they don’t. They make for really bad stories. You wanna know what makes good stories? Working hard, learning lots, going places, gaining experiences, meeting new people, getting into the world, taking chances…. Which are generally all good decisions.

This year I have worked at changing. I made some goals and I am sticking to them, it’s just that I have found that I am not sure which goal I should pursue and what future I should try to have. I feel incredibly old and out of time. It’s not that I am particularly old, it’s just that I should have finished all of these things by now and should be just moving into the world as a post-graduate worker not as a beginner. I have a very tough choice to make, and whichever path I choose, it’s going to be more years of study, work and being poor. Now if I ever needed a get rich quick scheme, it would be now! I don’t mind putting in the hours if it means I get to where I need to go, the problem is that hurdle of feeling like I have messed everything up too much to get anywhere.

These are feelings that can only hold me back, however. This year I have surprised myself by approaching university with the attitude of ‘I will do this now.’ rather than ‘eh, I’ll do it tomorrow.’ In fact, this attitude is true of my other goals, too. I’m hungry, man. Which can surely be the only way to tackle the future – with the desire to meet it, make it and get through it. I have things I want to accomplish, and now I know that ‘tomorrow’ is an ideal wonderland where in fact, nothing gets done. Things get done today. I have talked about this quite a bit, and I feel slightly repetitive but this post is directed at something else. My dilemma is this: continue with my current degree which could take me to a post-graduate course and lead to one career, or begin a new degree from scratch and go in an opposite direction. It feels impossible to choose.

I also feel like this when stumbling into the kitchen at breakfast time and having to decide between eggs or muesli.

Which career should I choose? Stay on course with my current and get there quicker, or choose something different and possibly be happier? Who can predict happiness, or success? I just know that I have to pick soon, and when I pick, I have to stick to it like glue and work hard. I have to keep passing classes, I have to keep meeting goals, I have to meet people, I have to write write write, I have to try to not let the worry about choosing or age delay me from ever getting anywhere.

What I really need is a magical wish to read my soul and tell me what path to choose: option A, or option B?

A Bed’s Importance

We’re all aware that there’s nothing quite like climbing into your bed at the end of a long day, when the sheets are fresh, the doona warm around your shoulders and colder round your feet, with the pillow soft under your head and a relaxation spreading through your body.

I thought that I would miss the single bed I spent my childhood sleeping in. I thought this until I moved on and bought a queen sized bed. It’s amazing how quickly you can love a bed when you can lay in full star-fish position in it. It’s also wonderful when you can roll onto the cold side and cool down on a hot morning, or gather the big doona around you on a cold night.

My bed is more than a sleeping place, though. Current living arrangements means that my bed/room have become a manifest of all the rooms.

From my bed I:
Study and work as if in an office.
Write as if in a window seat in a library. A novel was written from here.
Eat as if at a dining table, spilling onto the covers and realising it’s pretty gross but at the same time not caring.
Watch movies as if in a lounge room or home theatre.
Apply make-up as if in a bathroom (though this is the only bathroom related thing I do, I promise)
Play and laugh as if in a rumpus room.
Have been loved and held. A relationship has been kindled in this bed. It was purchased with that person in mind, ‘will they be too tall for this?’ Never a night has been spent without two people sleeping side by side.

My bed is the center of my current world. I take care of it: wash the covers, plump the pillows, vacuum the carpet underneath, because right now my bed is my home.

Wisdom Comes With Age

Currently at uni, I’m learning about how in western societies our ‘life course finds it’s orientation along the axis of age’. Basically, age and what we do have a direct correlation (school as a child, uni as a young adult, work as an older adult, retirement in old age etc) and the lecture went on to explain that we judge the maturity of other people based on achievements that match the ‘appropriate’ age. The interesting point was that this is of course not always necessarily true – we all know someone who despite being 30+ still ‘acts’ like an 18 year old, and it seems as though grading maturity according to age and completed achievements is not exactly useful.

Of course the development of our minds is related to our years lived. Think back to when you were fifteen and feel the difference in your worldly intelligence, your ability to understand things, or think outside of yourself. Like when you hear a joke in a movie you watched at 14 that you never understood at the time, but now at 24 upon a rewatching it clicks and makes sense, and you laugh. However, if you were to never be challenged, quizzed, cultured, taught etc then even if your brain was developing, it would just be arbitrary.
Does wisdom come with age, or experience? 

I typed in wisdom on google images, it suggested ‘wisdom tree’. What is this wisdom tree? Should I cut it down to get the knowledge?

Living through things is the beginning of life lessons. Learning from them, understanding why and how they happened, being able to look at and understand the situation from not only your perspective but others involved and outsiders too, seeing your part objectively and wondering if and how you could have changed it (if you wanted to) are all just as important as actually having an experience because it means that it didn’t just simply happen to you mindlessly.

Maturity, for that matter, is not dependent on what you do. Simply going to college, having a baby, getting a job, or getting a tattoo (yes I just lumped together getting a tattoo with having a baby, they’re both permanent) doesn’t make you ‘grown up’. It’s how you approach all of these things that really decides it. Do you leave your baby in the car on hot days with the windows up? Do you sexual harass your female coworkers through lame jokes that you then laugh raucously at? Did you get a tattoo from a drunk friend at a party? Of course, if you really want the tattoo and can calmly accept it without regret forever then I guess you’re okay. Calmly accepting leaving your baby in the car is a bit different, though, sorry. Now, if you always try to make your baby happy, healthy, safe and educated and not alone in a hot car then you’re doing a good job.

People put a lot of importance on maturity. It makes sense, you don’t want to hire an idiot who might slack off or injure someone, but the problem is with people who try to appear more mature than they are. The result is always the opposite. Just let those needs to be seen as an adult drop, concentrate on working hard, studying, being good to your friends, not letting your dog starve, stop hoon driving at 2am, etc and suddenly boom, other people will view you as someone who can ‘step up’ (as in dance really well like in the movie), takes things seriously, and be spoken to like a nice, normal person.

Oh, and being able to laugh and have fun is definitely not a sign of immaturity.

I resent this joke, typing 58008 on a calculator is hilarious. I did it at work once, chortled for days.

The only exception is if you decide to have a private giggle session at a funeral / in a customer’s face, or knowingly make inappropriate jokes to someone who won’t appreciate them because ‘stirring the pot’ is ‘cool’. Social norms fun, guys. Because being able to respect people and put yourself into their perspective decides the funniness of that boob joke.

In the eyes of strangers, your achievements completed at the ‘right age’ will be the suggested maturity level. To yourself, and those close around you, you know that your maturity is actually based on how and why you made those achievements, and how you handled them afterwards. It’s not the choice you make, it’s why you make it and how you accept it afterwards. For me, knowing that I am this old and still not finished a uni degree is excruciating when compared to other’s ages and their graduation ceremonies, but when I think of my decisions individually and I recognize that I am now working hard on that degree, I realise that the maturity for me came from not rushing it for the sake of keeping up with the other people on facebook.

A search for ‘mature’ in google images gave me this: ‘mature janet in fur’. Despite knowing this is probably from porn, this is actually going to be me in 50 years. Meet ‘mature’ Jessica.

[only the first part of the introduction of this post has come from (indirectly) my university course, the rest is my own thinking.]

University Coping Methods

These weren’t discovered by a psychologist or a scientist. Oh no, these were discovered by the highly credible and so very intelligent me. Yep, I have found ways to deal with university workloads. See, I dropped out of my first university last year due to the demands it had on me. Not just the work, but the distance it was from my home. I began university again this year closer to home and it has eased the burden amazingly. Six hours on a train to get to and from school is no longer necessary. There’s my first lesson: if you’re going to study, live near the campus, otherwise you won’t get out of bed.

“I don’t wanna get up.. Stuff it, I’ll live with my mum forever, it’s warm here.”

I found myself falling behind in one class though despite the new ease of proximity. The old me hissed “just drop the class” but the newer me (who has better hair and a smarter outlook, of course) decided that the ways of the past aren’t going to cut it any more. Instead, at the end of week 5 I actually made and spent the time needed to catch up. I just finished off the learning portfolio I need to hand in in a week that wasn’t even half-finished a day ago, and it’s 5 weeks of work.

It didn’t help that my books were the size of mattresses. Hard to turn the pages.

These are the things I recommend you do before you drop a class, coming from someone who dropped a whole course and now isn’t ditching anything.

1. Get a folder, organize it. My class is set into 3 modules, so I put in 3 dividers for the notes and readings for each module.

2. Read your unit outline back to front. Find the ‘point’ of the class (mine was written like a mission statement under ‘syllabus’) and really take it in so that you know why you’re doing the unit and what learning outcome is expected of you.
3. Read through the required assignments you will have to do. Choose an essay topic, a project topic etc. Doing this will mean that when you revisit and first visit the next weeks, you will find relevant information and sources for these assignments.
4. Go back to week 1 and re-read the info. Go to the first divider in your folder for module 1, select some paper. Re-read the week 1 readings, view the videos and lecture and this time - take handwritten notes! First, check the questions you are being asked and answer them in your notes. Then write down any info that will be handy for those assignments.
5. Go to week 2. Repeat.
6. Repeat for weeks 3, 4 and 5 or whatever you’re behind in until you are up to date. Re-read every reading, this time with a higlighter and a notepad. Re-watch the lectures and any linked videos. Visit any discussion boards. Take notes for assignments.
7. Reading and listening to things a second time is a great way for information to suddenly make sense. It’s no longer a nonsensical blur of dates, definitions and discussion – it’s a text you can now see the premise, relevance and important passages in. I find that reading an article etc when you get it all the way through first, then leaving it for a break, and then reading through a second time slowly while taking notes is the best way to understand what’s happening in an article.
8. Finally, if after re-visiting the weeks you missed or didn’t understand at first and you’re still not getting it, talk to your tutor or a classmate. If their help still doesn’t help you with the class, it may be too hard for you. If you don’t want it to be too hard for you, then harder work will just be required. Trust me, I am a procrastinating, lazy dumbo who suffers from chronic migraine and I have caught up at week 6 – you can do it, too.
9. For some classes it’s possible to find and watch documentaries on the subject which will help. You can even eat while you watch so it’s like fun television. Take notes!
10. Don’t forget to keep hydrated and eat some healthy food while you study.
11. Exhaust all help before you back out! (oh man, I would be the most annoying slogan saying teacher and it would tickle me pink)

So even though my eyes are streaming from my computer screen, despite my virus, and it being Easter, I have finally conquered the class I thought I was going to fail. There’s just now, you know, the rest of the weeks to tackle and attempt and the assignments… Do you have any study tips? I hope mine come in handy one day to a struggler. Meanwhile, Happy Easter!

I found speckled eggs for the first time in many years, so mine was indeed, happy.