Judging a year by its cover

If the beginning of the year is an omen for the rest of the year, then I best tap out now.
Why? The beginning of 2010 was spent walking the long way home after having an argument with my boyfriend, who threatened to pack his bags and leave as soon as he was sober.
Good-o.

My work has been lovely enough to give me five hours of work in the first week of the new year. Which means that we will be living on $150 a week for the next two weeks. Why they've decided that the weeks after christmas don't need any staff bar the bare bones working, who knows.

I had my birthday a week or so ago. Only one of my friends remembered. Fuck me that hurt. You'd think at 26 you'd be over that kind of, um, popularity contest I guess. But I wasn't. What hurt wasn't that I didn't have all these birthday wishes on facebook or twitter, but that my closest friends, bar one, didn't even send me a text message. Just nothing. They say friends are the family you choose for yourself- I'm obviously not good at picking them.

It also looks like my depression has returned. I had been fine for months and months, but it seems like the whole birthday saga has stirred up lots of long-buried emotions, which have caused me to retreat back into my shell. I can be angry, I don't talk much, and my libido has goooooone. Bah.

My boyfriend, although caring and loving, doesn't seem to understand how deep birthday-gate (hah!) has affected me. Maybe it's just a girl thing? Who knows.

So, 2010, what have you got for me, huh? I hope to god the beginning isn't a reflection of the rest of the year. And if it is? I'll be goin' down swinging, baby.

Baby you can drive my car (but I can't)

I have an embarrassing confession to make. I don't have a licence. Not a licence to thrill (or kill), but a drivers licence. I am 25, and still have my learners. This is something I don't advertise, as the looks of pity and disgust are something I don't feel like being the recipient of. But there it is. Out in the open.

I did get my learners at 16, and had a couple of lessons, but I wasn't really that interested, and I didn't want to learn to drive with my Mum. She’s a nervous driver, and god knows how she would have dealt with being a passenger to a novice driver.

Then, at 17 I got my learners again. And again I got a couple lessons, but I didn't click with the instructor, so I gave it away.
I lived in Canberra for a while, and the public transport system made it easy for me to get around without a licence, so I didn't feel the need to learn to drive.
When I moved back to the area I grew up in, the public transport was not so great, but I was still able to get around.

Ease of transport wasn't the only reason for not learning to drive. I was petrified of driving. I was in a car accident when I was 14, and part of me still feels that fear when I get into a car. Since I have left it so late to learn, I have put driving on a pedestal, so to speak. It has almost become something that is too scary, too hard to learn.And of course its a bit scary, but at the moment I feel I can only get behind the wheel when I am in the driving instructors car. He has an extra brake. This is important to me, because I know that if I make a mistake he can correct it nine times out of ten. I find it hard to practice driving in my boyfriends car, as I worry that I might make a mistake, and endanger his life. So I don't drive with him, and can only afford one or two driving lessons a week. And the cycle continues.

I know it seems ridiculous for a 25 year old not to have their licence, and I should just take a concrete pill and, well, you know. And i think that as well.

But this is the year. I'm going to do it. I'm going to learn how to drive!*

*anyone in NSW, and in QLD in December, consider yourself warned.

Facebook fueled feelings of failiure

Right now, I am at the age where a lot of friends are getting married, having children, or both. On facebook, like many people, I have become ‘friends’ with people I went to school with. I don't know why I have sought out these people, or accepted their friend requests. I barely talked to them at school- why would I talk to them now? Maybe my ego got the best of me.
But now, my ego is steadily becoming deflated. Every day, it seems, there is another facebook announcement, “so-and-so is engaged!” or “I’m pregnant!” or I am directed to someones classy wedding photos.
God help me.

These developments in peoples lives make me more jealous than finding out they’ve bought a house, graduated university or landed their dream job. What is wrong with me? It feels like somewhere inside me is a 50’s housewife, measuring worth on whether I can cook my husbands favourite meal and have his martini ready when he gets it, all the while looking fabulous.

I need a Bex and a good lie down.

What is it about being a woman that inspires such jealousy? Maybe that's why women are so bitchy- its jealousy worming its way into our psyche. Add tall poppy syndrome to that and you’ve got the green-eyed bitch monster. Which is how I feel sometimes when looking at photos of peoples weddings, or of their precious new baby. I know i should feel happy for them, but my own disappointment in not having what they have makes me resent them. I try to sooth my savage beast with thoughts of ‘its not my time yet’, ‘you can still do whatever you want’ and ‘it will happen when it happens’, but there is a small part of me that feels like a failure for not contributing to the human race.

This, of course, is ridiculous. It is a strange, useless pressure women put on ourselves. We will continue to judge ourselves based on people from our past and present, regardless of how good our lives are. What we need to remember is that there will always be someone jealous of our lives. Maybe one of my facebook friends who have had a child will long for the carefree days where they could go to the shops without a fully stocked nappy bad and three changes of clothes (for themselves).

We may not be able to stop ourselves from comparing our lives to other womens, but we need to step back and take stock of our own. Jealousy is a useless emotion, and helps no one. We can be happy for our friends, school mates, people on the street, while still feeling secure and content in our own.

Marriage and children is not the be all and end all for women.

Happiness is.

Look Mum, no degree

I’ve been sick this week, knocked down with whatever lurgy is doing the rounds at the moment, lovingly shared by my boyfriend. This meant I spent one day in bed, and two days aimlessly moping around the house. It also allowed me many hours of naval gazing (It would have been much more productive to do some housework, but I was sick, dammit!).

In between watching Ellen and napping on the couch, I realised something. I hate uni. I hate my degree, I don’t want to work in that field, and I sure as hell didn’t want to go back again this year.

I’m doing the degree part time, and this is year three out of five. For the last five semesters, I’ve been quite sure that this is what I want to do with my life. Although I sometimes struggled with assignments, I was content.

This semester, however, is different. I haven’t wanted to go to classes, I’ve barely even looked at the lectures, and put very minimal effort into my assessments. At first I thought it was because I was tired, or lazy. But having this time off has given me time to think, to REALLY think about how I feel. And I began to understand that I wasn’t lazy, or I just couldn’t be bothered. I really don’t think I want to do it anymore.

This is a scary realisation. It means that I may have studied and struggled through the last two and a half years for no reason. That I have wasted my and other people’s time and energy for nothing. I expressed this worry to a workmate, who said “fuck everyone else. You’re the one who has to live with the decisions you make. You don’t want to look back in 10 years time and wish you’d done it.” Fair enough, I thought. What if I finish my degree, get to the middle of my grad year and absolutely hate it? At the same time, what if I don’t finish, and spend the rest of my life wishing I had?

It was enough to make me reach for the sav blanc.

But for this decision, I needed a clear head. As desperately as I wanted to flip a coin, I had to think long and hard about how I felt. I knew I had the support of my boyfriend, so this decision was entirely up to me.

And after some serious deliberation, a lot of pacing and a few tears, I came to a decision. I decided to take what’s known as a leave of absence. This means I am not enrolled in my classes for the rest of the year. This semester has been wiped clean, like I never went. I have taken leave until the beginning of first semester next year. I thought that five months would be more than enough time to come to a long term decision about my uni future. It will be a lot easier to work out what I want without the stress and distraction of assignments and study.

So there you have it. I’ve quit uni. Sort of. And only time will tell if I’ve made the right decision. But regardless of whether or not I return to my studies, the fact that I was able to take such a gigantic step makes me feel more confident about my ability to accept and adapt to change. Which means at least one good thing has come out of my boyfriend giving me his flu.

Now, where’s my wine?

Welcome to the crisis zone

I am a 25 year old girl. There are many of us in the world, so this is not new or exciting. And like many, I am currently in the grips of a quarter life crisis.

When I was little, 25 was OLD. I thought, when I was 25, I was going to be married, have 2.5 children and have a big house with a white picket fence and a yard. And a dog. I think I also may have wanted to be a ballerina.

I had plans, people, big plans.

And then, last year, I turned 25. And I freaked out. Oh did I freak out. I started focusing on all my failures and mistakes (imagined or otherwise) I had made, and wondered where the hell my white picket fence life was. Sure, I had a loving committed boyfriend, great friends, was enrolled in uni and and reliable job, but it wasn't the life I had imagined as a little girl. What happened to my big plans?

Life happened.

Bloody life. It always seems to get in the way, throwing detours and stop signs at us left, right and centre. What a pain in the arse.

I'm not embarrased or ashamed of how my life has turned out, not at all. In fact, its kind of great. And i knew it on my 25^th birthday too, but the idea of being a quarter of a century old took over. I became obsessed with comparing myself to people I went to school with, and people who were younger and (seemingly) more successful than me. This was not only counterproductive, but stupid.

I told my boyfriend that i was freaking out about turning 25, and he looked at me like i had two heads. This seemed to occur every time i spoke to a male about this. Apparently the quarter life milestone has much less significance for men than women. The men i spoke to were quite happy about where they were in live, and really didnt care how old they were. Most acted like 12 year olds, anyway.

It will come as no surprise that men, in general, don't spend their younger years planning out their life, including how their wedding dress will look, and the names of their children. They’re much more interested in climbing trees, riding bikes, and annoying girls. I guess some things never change.

It did get me thinking though. Maybe that's the key to reducing the quarter life induced panic- let it go. I mean, I’m quite happy living where I am, and i definitely don't think i could have coped with having two children by now- Im still learning to look after myself!

25 is not old, of course its not. I am still young, still learning, still working it out as I go.

And i wouldn't have it any other way

...wouldn't mind a dog though.