Weeks ago, I was poised to make a post about Megan Fox and Michael Bay, which is still sitting in a Word document as a half-formed embryo. Why didn't I post it? A nasty bout of Twentysomething-itis.
Being as I am, at the tail end of my twenties, with virtually nothing to show for my efforts, I am prone to contracting the occasional case of Tewntysomething-itis. This tends to become particularly pronounced during essay season, where I struggle not to be overwhelmed by assessment tasks, and inevitably fail. This leads to rigorous self criticism - I can't do this, I don't want to do this, why am I trying to do this, I'm never going to get this shit finished, am I insane? I feel trapped in the house, and in my room; I feel trapped by my financial situation (broke); I feel like I'm never going to find a job that will both financially support me, and which will also fulfil me. I feel like I'm never going to graduate from my bachelor degree, let alone make it into, and through, post-grad. I feel like the deadline for everything I want to do and achieve is September 2011...my thirtieth birthday.
So, what is it that I want? What are all of these unattainable goals?
The simple wants are things like some fricken SPACE. I love my folks, and even my brother, and without their willingness to let me move back home, not to mention financial assistance with everything from car repairs to not accepting a cent as contribution towards household bills, I would have never been able to return to uni. However, as someone who has lived on their own for years, living in someone else's house is HARD. All of my stuff is either crammed into my childhood bedroom with me, or is crammed into the shed in the backyard. It looks like a fricken game of Tetris in my bedroom and I can never find anything. There is nowhere quiet or non-distracting to study, and as I have an entire household of goods squeezed into my bedroom, there's no room for a desk and therefore study must be done on the bed. This is not comfortable for more than maybe 2 hours at a time. The twitches of discomfort in my back, knees, shoulders, and the claustrphobic press of clothes, books, DVD's and knicknacks is opressive.
I want to have more than one room to work in. I want to be able to find a book, CD or DVD when I want it without the necessity to hire a team of archeologists to unearth it. I want a dishwasher named 'Smeg', not a dishwasher named 'Mum'. I want to use my zebra print dinner plates, my fuschia drinking glasses, my colour-coded, hygienic cutting boards and my ice cream scoop with the cow on the handle. I want to be able to have ice cream in the freezer without the fear that my brother is going to inhale it the second he detects its presence! I want to be able to get up from studying without the well-meaning query "How's the essay going?" assaulting my already fragile balance of concentration and stress. I want to be able to get up at 4am and do a load of laundry just because I feel like it, and not have to EVER sort through any quantity of my brother and father's dirty undies/grease-soaked work pants. I want to put frozen hash browns into the toaster to cook without Mum having a stroke about the potential for the oil to catch on fire. I want to sit on a comfortable couch. I want to have my friends over in the middle of the week so we can get astoundingly drunk and all pass out in various unflattering poses on and around the lounge room furniture. I WANT MY OLD LIFE BACK!!!
Slightly less simple - I want to finish my degree. All going well, this SHOULD have been within my grasp by the end of 2010. Instead, I've had this annoying and disruptive lupus, which has sapped my energy and motivation in all new quantities. I'm struggling to concentrate on anything for more than two minutes, and I have never been as tired as this in my entire life. I can't muster up the will to get out of my PJ's, let alone get in the car and go to uni. So now I'm wondering whether I'm going to pass any of my classes for this semester, which would put me back a whole six months. I can just imagine that if that happens, it's going to be even harder for me to maintain the motiviation to finish at all. The sooner I get the degree done, the sooner I can move on with my life. Get a full time job and move out? Maybe apply for a post-grad program right away, or maybe wait for a while and focus on getting some money saved up instead? I can't even think about this stuff until step one (degree) is sorted, except do you think that stops me? Instead, I worry about it incessantly.
You can see where I'm going with this, right? I want to travel, I want to buy my own place, I want to learn how to restore furniture, I want to start yoga, I want to learn how to play the piano. I want to go a postgraduate diploma in Media and Communication, then I want to do a Master of Teaching, then I want to teach high school English and Media. I don't want to be 30, unemployed, still completing my undergraduate degree, and be living with my parents. Classic Twentysomething-itis.
So, what does one do to cure Twentysomething-itis? Well, I'm not sure that there is an effective cure for all sufferers. Some will go on to suffer from Thirtysomething-itis, the Mid-Life Crisis, and possibly Dirty Old Man/Woman Syndrome (normally afficts only the wealthy). Forcing yourself to get the hell out of bed and into some fresh air is probably a good start. I find spending some time mapping out goals and achievements also helps - get an organised perspective on where you want to go, while reminding yourself of what you've already achieved. I've just had a very uplifting phone conversation not five minutes ago with an old work colleague and mentor, who was calling to let me know about a reference she had just given me for a job I've applied for. It was really nice to hear what she had to say about me, plus it sounds like I've got a good chance of getting this job. The income from this new job would also go a long way to helping me feel less trapped, and more like I'm on my way to achieving some of my goals. I need to let go of this fixation with turning 30 and the notion that I must have achieved everything I want before then. Quite frankly, I think some professional therapy would also help, but that costs time and money I don't have right now so it'll have to wait. It would be awesome if this huge zit on my nose would go away too. Zits are not empowering, especially when you're 28.
So all I can do right now is pop the seal on another can of Coke Zero, re-adjust my pillows, and try and get these fucking essays finished. Or at least started. I'll turn off this episode of Wife Swap (seriously...what the eff????) and I won't play Farmville, Zombie Farm, Tetris or Angry Birds. I'll take a deep breath and imagine the future day when I'll be sitting back on my own comfy sofa, with Zombieland playing on the TV and a cup of white jasmine tea steeping in my zebra print mug, and my Bachelor of Arts hanging framed on my wall. I'll be surfing the web for cheap overseas flights, recovering from a huge night out and getting ready to crack open a tub of vanilla bean and macadamia ice cream. Maybe I'll even have my dream job by then...if I've figured out what that is by then.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Friday, May 14, 2010
I think I'm allergic to studying
Was up all night last night, and achieved almost nothing in the way of study. Ran into Dad at 5am - unsuprisingly, he was ready for a rant. Note to self: when you hear a disgusted snort during the morning news, don't ask any questions. Unless you want to listen to a long diatribe on the government and all the ways in which it is shit, why global warming is a bullshit theory that only hippies and assholes believe in, and why you think the Pope is a Nazi.
I am going to see the play Waiting for Godot next Tuesday, which is going to be really awesome, by all accounts. I was charmed to read the following story about Sir Ian McKellen being mistaken for a hobo while in costume on the street (lulz).
In other news, I have been having some truly bizarre dreams lately, which I'm going to attempt to record for future posts.
Later, I think I will post something about my recent immersion in all things Megan Fox, and my thoughts on Michael Bay.
Cheerio.
I am going to see the play Waiting for Godot next Tuesday, which is going to be really awesome, by all accounts. I was charmed to read the following story about Sir Ian McKellen being mistaken for a hobo while in costume on the street (lulz).
In other news, I have been having some truly bizarre dreams lately, which I'm going to attempt to record for future posts.
Later, I think I will post something about my recent immersion in all things Megan Fox, and my thoughts on Michael Bay.
Cheerio.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
I hate people (sort of)
Being a twenty-something is full of all sorts of annoying social obligations. Like other people's weddings, babyshowers, housewarmings, Tupperware parties, etc. I mean, I like a good social interaction, but the problem is, I also get kind of frustrated with other people easily. Herein lies the porblem.
Social engagements on the whole are awesome. I have lots of friends, and they like lots of different things, and so each friend kind of supplies me with a particular kind of social satisfaction.
I have my gang of traditionally geeky friends - they love science fiction and fantasy, and with them I can go to things like Harry Potter fancy dress parties, Torchwood marathons, IMAX screenings of Star Trek and, the nerdy pilgrimage to pop culture conventions. It's great. When things are getting too geeky for my tastes (anything to do with WOW or Dungeons and Dragons pretty much sends me packing, and there's no way I want to get into a debate about whether it's plausible that Chekov would have been left in charge of the bridge at his age in the latest Trek film), I can bow out. I don't need to live and breathe that life.
There are other pockets of friends: the study-buddy, the work mates, the ones who will go to things like the Burlesque Festival or Roller Derby with me, the ones who will go to the theatre with me, the ones I can always count on to go to the pub, the ones I can confess my shopping sins to without fear or judgement or reprimand, the ones who I can sit next to on the couch while looking like mice are nesting in my hair, playing FarmVille and talking about our bowel movements. My friendship landscape is like a puzzle, and all the pieces fit together nicely. Most of the time.
Cue the annoying social obligation. You're asked to be a bridesmaid in a friends wedding. You're contacted to be part of the team organising a buddy's babyshower. You receive an invitation to a Tupperware party for your brother's girlfriend. You know why these things suck for me? I have to deal with people outside my friendship puzzle. They don't fit with my pieces, dammit! There's always someone involved who just rubs you the wrong way. I've had to cope with frustrating sisters of the bride, whiny and selfish and jealous, making every fucking decision from nailpolish to shoe style to who walks down the aisle first a fucking UN moderated negotiation. When the bride needs two people to hold up her dress so she can pee at the reception, whiny sister is nowhere to be found. Or, the annoyingly shrill girlfriend of your brother, who gave you a bizarre and smelly candle for Christmas, while you tried to thoughtfully select the most appropriate gift package from the Body Shop to suit her, who now wants you to come along to her sister's Tupperware party so you can feel pressured into ordering $150 worth of cake boxes and collapsable egg poachers. These people are RUINING my puzzle! I get nothing from these social interactions but annoyance, and sometimes murderous rage. What are they getting out of me? Apparently, $150, and the opportunity to sit at the bar double fisting the house white instead of helping their dear sister squeeze her lemon.
Currently, this is manifesting itself in the form of the babyshower organisation...a very good girlfriend of mine is spawning in early July, and I immediately offered to throw her a shower as soon as I found out she was baking babies. My motivation was thus:
- I like organising things
- I like parties
- I like babies
- I like my friend
- If I take initiative, then I won't have to collaborate with anyone else
I should have known this dream could not last.
In the last two months, I have begun to be plagued by emails and phone calls from women at my friends (lets call her S) local church. They have found out that I am planning the baby shower, and now they want to be part of the action. I find this ANNOYING. I've been S's friend for around 6 years, and these people have known her for about a year, so I would consider that I have a better grasp on what S may like for her baby shower (plus, I asked her outright) than they do. This has not stopped them from attempting to take over and completely butcher my party plan. I'm tired of having to argue about why I have decided to hand make invitations (it's actually not that hard and store bought invites are ugly). I'm sick of explaining why I don't think it's too much trouble to make home made cupcakes. I don't want to hear yet another lecture about how they have families to look after, and they don't have time to do all of these fancy things, and it might be okay for an unmarried person such as myself to do these things but it's really unfair to expect it of others.
*angry flailing*
If these women had not insisted on involving themselves, they could have just turned up to the party as guests, having received my home made invitation, and eaten my home made cupcakes without it ever having required any one of them to lift a finger! I'm not asking them to re-create High Tea at teh Windsor! It's a few fucking cupcakes and a mail merge in Word! I wanted to do it myself ANYWAY!!!!!
I'd love to tell them all to piss off and stop interfering, but I don't want to cause an awkward incident for S to have to deal with. Good lord, she's going to have a screaming baby on her hands soon enough, surely that's plenty. But this is a good example of why I kind of hate people sometimes. I don't like having to interact with people I haven't explicitly chosen to, unless I'm getting paid to do it in the workplace. I just have too low a tolerance. The solution this time has been to blame an existing illness and bow out of the proceedings entirely, letting them take control of the whole thing and do what they want.
Ahhh, rant over. It feels good to get that out.
Social engagements on the whole are awesome. I have lots of friends, and they like lots of different things, and so each friend kind of supplies me with a particular kind of social satisfaction.
I have my gang of traditionally geeky friends - they love science fiction and fantasy, and with them I can go to things like Harry Potter fancy dress parties, Torchwood marathons, IMAX screenings of Star Trek and, the nerdy pilgrimage to pop culture conventions. It's great. When things are getting too geeky for my tastes (anything to do with WOW or Dungeons and Dragons pretty much sends me packing, and there's no way I want to get into a debate about whether it's plausible that Chekov would have been left in charge of the bridge at his age in the latest Trek film), I can bow out. I don't need to live and breathe that life.
There are other pockets of friends: the study-buddy, the work mates, the ones who will go to things like the Burlesque Festival or Roller Derby with me, the ones who will go to the theatre with me, the ones I can always count on to go to the pub, the ones I can confess my shopping sins to without fear or judgement or reprimand, the ones who I can sit next to on the couch while looking like mice are nesting in my hair, playing FarmVille and talking about our bowel movements. My friendship landscape is like a puzzle, and all the pieces fit together nicely. Most of the time.
Cue the annoying social obligation. You're asked to be a bridesmaid in a friends wedding. You're contacted to be part of the team organising a buddy's babyshower. You receive an invitation to a Tupperware party for your brother's girlfriend. You know why these things suck for me? I have to deal with people outside my friendship puzzle. They don't fit with my pieces, dammit! There's always someone involved who just rubs you the wrong way. I've had to cope with frustrating sisters of the bride, whiny and selfish and jealous, making every fucking decision from nailpolish to shoe style to who walks down the aisle first a fucking UN moderated negotiation. When the bride needs two people to hold up her dress so she can pee at the reception, whiny sister is nowhere to be found. Or, the annoyingly shrill girlfriend of your brother, who gave you a bizarre and smelly candle for Christmas, while you tried to thoughtfully select the most appropriate gift package from the Body Shop to suit her, who now wants you to come along to her sister's Tupperware party so you can feel pressured into ordering $150 worth of cake boxes and collapsable egg poachers. These people are RUINING my puzzle! I get nothing from these social interactions but annoyance, and sometimes murderous rage. What are they getting out of me? Apparently, $150, and the opportunity to sit at the bar double fisting the house white instead of helping their dear sister squeeze her lemon.
Currently, this is manifesting itself in the form of the babyshower organisation...a very good girlfriend of mine is spawning in early July, and I immediately offered to throw her a shower as soon as I found out she was baking babies. My motivation was thus:
- I like organising things
- I like parties
- I like babies
- I like my friend
- If I take initiative, then I won't have to collaborate with anyone else
I should have known this dream could not last.
In the last two months, I have begun to be plagued by emails and phone calls from women at my friends (lets call her S) local church. They have found out that I am planning the baby shower, and now they want to be part of the action. I find this ANNOYING. I've been S's friend for around 6 years, and these people have known her for about a year, so I would consider that I have a better grasp on what S may like for her baby shower (plus, I asked her outright) than they do. This has not stopped them from attempting to take over and completely butcher my party plan. I'm tired of having to argue about why I have decided to hand make invitations (it's actually not that hard and store bought invites are ugly). I'm sick of explaining why I don't think it's too much trouble to make home made cupcakes. I don't want to hear yet another lecture about how they have families to look after, and they don't have time to do all of these fancy things, and it might be okay for an unmarried person such as myself to do these things but it's really unfair to expect it of others.
*angry flailing*
If these women had not insisted on involving themselves, they could have just turned up to the party as guests, having received my home made invitation, and eaten my home made cupcakes without it ever having required any one of them to lift a finger! I'm not asking them to re-create High Tea at teh Windsor! It's a few fucking cupcakes and a mail merge in Word! I wanted to do it myself ANYWAY!!!!!
I'd love to tell them all to piss off and stop interfering, but I don't want to cause an awkward incident for S to have to deal with. Good lord, she's going to have a screaming baby on her hands soon enough, surely that's plenty. But this is a good example of why I kind of hate people sometimes. I don't like having to interact with people I haven't explicitly chosen to, unless I'm getting paid to do it in the workplace. I just have too low a tolerance. The solution this time has been to blame an existing illness and bow out of the proceedings entirely, letting them take control of the whole thing and do what they want.
Ahhh, rant over. It feels good to get that out.
It's a beautiful day to be blogging
Hello, internet!
It's quite cold, so a warm, probably overheating laptop on the knees is welcome. A great time to start blogging, in my opinion.
I'm blogging because, well, I have a lot of ranting to do and I'm afraid that if I don't do it somewhere, I'm next in line for an ulcer or a nervous breakdown. I've tried to rant to my Mum, but she approaches the rant as a problem to be solved, rather than just some verbal abomination I need to birth and then leave on the doorstep of a metaphorical orphanage, like Benjamin Button or somesuch. Mum doesn't understand that the purpose of the rant is to just get the words out so I can move on, rational or irrational - sometimes, there is no solution. Mum's not a ranter. She can't understand it.
Dad's a huge ranter. He's so ranty, that I can't actually release my own rants in his presence because they will become absorbed by his ones and will only make his bigger and more powerful. I imagine Dad's rants to be a lot like the evil planet in The Fifth Element, where the military fires huge, ginormous bombs at it to try and destroy it, but instead it just makes it even more enormous and devastating. That's a Dad rant. I reckon I get trapped by one of his at least on a weekly basis. I feel like I have to sit through them til he's at least had 45 mins to an hour, because clearly he can't rant at Mum, so what other outlet does he have? Seeing as they've let me, their late-twenties spawn, move back to the family nest while I try to finish my education, I feel like I owe them.
I have got friends I can rant to, of course, but I feel a bit guilty about all the ranting I do. I mean, who wants to be talk to someone who is always simmering with rage over some issue or another? BORING. When I started to be known in 2007 for my catchphrase "SO ANGRY!", I decided it was time to maybe cool it on the ranting. I'm not actually quite as angry as I may seem. I just have opinions.
So anyway, it might be nice to shout some of these opinions out into the emptyness of the internet. I get to let off some steam, not unlike a boiler of some sort, and my friends and family get a holiday from my angry. In the interests of public safety, I think I shall begin a rant right away.
Thank you, and goodnight.
It's quite cold, so a warm, probably overheating laptop on the knees is welcome. A great time to start blogging, in my opinion.
I'm blogging because, well, I have a lot of ranting to do and I'm afraid that if I don't do it somewhere, I'm next in line for an ulcer or a nervous breakdown. I've tried to rant to my Mum, but she approaches the rant as a problem to be solved, rather than just some verbal abomination I need to birth and then leave on the doorstep of a metaphorical orphanage, like Benjamin Button or somesuch. Mum doesn't understand that the purpose of the rant is to just get the words out so I can move on, rational or irrational - sometimes, there is no solution. Mum's not a ranter. She can't understand it.
Dad's a huge ranter. He's so ranty, that I can't actually release my own rants in his presence because they will become absorbed by his ones and will only make his bigger and more powerful. I imagine Dad's rants to be a lot like the evil planet in The Fifth Element, where the military fires huge, ginormous bombs at it to try and destroy it, but instead it just makes it even more enormous and devastating. That's a Dad rant. I reckon I get trapped by one of his at least on a weekly basis. I feel like I have to sit through them til he's at least had 45 mins to an hour, because clearly he can't rant at Mum, so what other outlet does he have? Seeing as they've let me, their late-twenties spawn, move back to the family nest while I try to finish my education, I feel like I owe them.
I have got friends I can rant to, of course, but I feel a bit guilty about all the ranting I do. I mean, who wants to be talk to someone who is always simmering with rage over some issue or another? BORING. When I started to be known in 2007 for my catchphrase "SO ANGRY!", I decided it was time to maybe cool it on the ranting. I'm not actually quite as angry as I may seem. I just have opinions.
So anyway, it might be nice to shout some of these opinions out into the emptyness of the internet. I get to let off some steam, not unlike a boiler of some sort, and my friends and family get a holiday from my angry. In the interests of public safety, I think I shall begin a rant right away.
Thank you, and goodnight.
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