#30daychallenge day 19: disrespecting your parents

So here's some thoughts more on generational issues than on parents in particular; could mean coworkers, older family friends, aunts and uncles, grandparents ... relationships. Tricky.

I don't think it's news to anybody that close relationships operate a lot better when everyone respects each other. It leaves room to disagree, without things getting ugly.

I think it's important to note that in the case of adult relationships, the respect thing has to go both ways. It's interesting, to come back to your hometown as an adult and have to renegotiate that particular relationship. Once you factor in the generation gap, there are plenty of negotiations to be made; a balance between support and independence, the push and pull of meeting expectations and being free of them, the space to pursue whichever path your life is taking that particular week and the confidence to make decisions of your own.

It has been interesting for me to get into this analysis of Generation Y for one of my assignments; there was certainly the heartening discovery (or I should perhaps call it a reassurance) that it is typical of our generation to lack the financial capital to purchase a house at the earlier age that our parents did; that we pursue further education and career changes constantly throughout our lives; that different world events have moulded our perceptions of ourselves, our peers, our parents, our lives, our family. While our families watch our lives unfold, chances are there's going to be a disconnect between those living this stage of life and those of a different generation who are watching. There's just not a lot of point saying "by the time I was your age I had this and had done this and this", because really, it's just not that relevant anymore. Nor are we, the Generation Y (oldest of us in our early 30s, youngest of us just 13) particularly fond of hearing it. We're not failures for doing things differently.

A feeling of disrespect might often be as simple as miscommunication, but for Gen Y where communication is everything, this probably has a significance to us that it may not have had to our parents and friends when they were at our age. We are social media kids, and so we are used to having a voice. It's less and less the case that children are meant to be seen and not heard. For instance, I use my 'voice' loudly, on a daily basis, and I expect to be listened to. The earlier generations can grumble about how it used to be, or they can realise that time has passed and things are done differently, and marvel at how much people like me who are writing are willing to share with them.


I mentioned in this post that one of my highs of this year was getting to know my parents and be friends with them, and it's certainly true. It's always a bit weird to sort out how everything should work when you still want them to make you feel better when you've had a bad day, but you also don't want them to know all the details of your life (and they probably have a point where some things might become Too Much Information). I like to think I've got it figured out, so far, for now.

To lighten your mood and leave on a sweet note, I also like to use 'kids these days', ironically or otherwise. And to completely embrace my inner Gen Y, here are some more hipster cats. I know you love them, even if you're too cool to say so.

#30daychallenge day 9: what you hope your future will be like

I feel as though I probably touched on the things I want in my "10 year plan" numbered list; I was going to tongue-in-cheek it and have a rant on hoverboards in manner of Seth Sentry...

However, I have actually been doing some reading and subsequent thinking on the topic of My Future and probably have a few stray thoughts to offer on the topic. Be warned though, no final conclusion shall occur. 

I honestly didn't think I'd get to 27 years of age and still have so many possibilities ahead of me, rather than plans and commitments. I actually expected the commitments to come first, providing some shape to the plans in the form of tangible limiting factors.

Funny how the limiting factors I've come across so far (each time, expecting them to stick and each time being wrong) have been the boys I've had relationships with. Each of them saw me making a physical move (either to be with, or to escape from... Or to wish for a time machine to go with that hoverboard so I could go back and stay put) and now, here I stand, sad and free.

My mistake, perhaps, for harbouring the misguided belief that you make such grandiose gestures and decisions for the one you love ... "And I poured my heart out/ it evaporated, see?"

My future may look any number of ways. As my friend Karin pointed out, I might meet a nice Swedish guy next year when I move to Sweden (that's where you find them, apparently). My mum would kill me. 

I'm starting to wonder if maybe my future might look a little different from how I expected. Every couple of months I seem to shift my world view, plans and ideologies slightly. 

I hope I continue along this road of brutal and honest self motivation though. I've been reading up on why 30 is not the new 20- more on this to follow- and while I'm sure I've got more realisations ahead, I'm already working on creating some momentum. Are you? 

I asked my friend Ellie over the weekend what she thought I was going to be when I grew up. She wasn't sure, so I put it to you, blogosphere: what do you think my future should look like?

#30daychallenge day 1: my current relationship/singledom

my current relationship is with myself. i've been single since feb 14 this year (if you're going to breakup, why not do it on valentine's day?) and have gradually eased back into the comfiness of singledom.

this time round, i know all about how it goes, this singledom. i know that i have a huge list of activities which tend to fall by the wayside when there's a boy on the scene; activities i love to do and get a lot out of. i know i have a pile of great friends with whom i can surround myself (or not) at will. i know how much i like my own company - whether reading, going to movies, writing or just sitting about, i'm happy and comfortable and in fact often prefer these things on my own. i also know i have awesome family close by, be it my mum who i see in the carpark almost every workday, or my cousin and his wife who i hadn't seen for 6 months (they'd in fact had a whole baby since i saw them last).

i am a lucky motherfucker.

there's been an interesting shift this time, and i don't know if it's my age, or the very fact of being beaten over the head by yet another incorrectly-placed stint of optimism and trust, but i am not going to be rushing into anything serious for no good reason, if there should come a time when someone has expressed an interest. broken down: i shall not be dating anymore boys. men, please.

that's not to say i won't happily be set up on a date or three, but you know, i'm not keen on wasting my time on time-wasters. ain't nobody got time for that.

and all the activities i can do now, as a single lady, are my favourites. activities! free time!

the world is open and full of possibility.

and next year, i'm going to sweden.

secret: the art of fitting in/the art of belonging

I'm realizing that I've spent a lot of my life waiting to feel as though I fit in, acutely aware of the fact I didn't feel that way. 

I grew up on a farm but never wanted to be a farmer. I was a girl growing into a woman but could never get my makeup right, my hair from getting frizzy, could never fit into the pants that were in fashion. I mean, I still don't- I'm not made for pants.

I'm intelligent but I've never felt particularly smart, I'm musical but have never mastered an instrument, I'm creative but rarely feel sure about sharing my work. 

I'm acutely aware of what needs improvement, but not so quick to brag. Occasionally I will, or at least act to draw attention to myself. It gets boring constantly telling yourself that nobody notices you. And I don't necessarily always believe it. 

I am happier being the girl who has a serious boyfriend or is single and waiting for someone worthy to come along- I'm not a one-night kind of person and while sometimes I wish I was, ultimately it's not my style. 

I don't fit into a pick-up scene, boys don't tend to chat me up in bars and I don't think it's because I'm hideously ugly, I just think I don't put out the signals that you need for the required attention. 

Despite this list of social failings, occasionally, I have moments when I know exactly where I belong. These are the satisfying moments where I write something that people like reading, or I get a letter in the mail from a close friend, or sometimes it's just one of the many moments alone where I'm completely comfortable in my own company. I do better on my own, when I'm happy about it. Which I mostly am.

The thing I hold onto is the moment I have now and then, when I'm just struck by the feeling of being home. I felt it today, at work, halfway through some data entry, pumping some music from a friends band. I feel it when I get out to mums house and her dogs are so excited to see me that they howl a little. 

I got it on the weekend when I made the bed at my new place and I realised I was one step further away from the memories of being one half of a whole (couple). I realised that I might eventually be a whole on my own, all of the time instead of just some of the time. 

I'm realizing that life, for me, is going to be a search for those moments. I'm going to have to make peace with the fact that I'll spend a lot of time compensating for the fact I don't feel as though I fit in. 

The best part of all this angst, because that's what it is, is realizing that it's not something unique to me. I know very few people without doubts, especially at the ripe old age of 27. So I'm reasonably normal. 

Except for the addiction to wasabi peas and the recent interest in both mills & boon and Kurt Vonnegut. Maybe I'll call it research for a best-seller. Something with some middle ground. 

You out there reading, you're not strangers, you're my friends. You're probably my friends because you're a bit awesome and have some quality I wish that I had more of. Thanks for being there for me to write to. Sorry for the confessional crap I've been posting of late, and the silly pictures. I love writing always, but I'm discovering that I also love writing when I have an audience.

Thanks for reading. 

Here's another silly picture for good measure: 

treasure: this too shall pass

Even a complete idiot reading between the lines will realise I'm going through a post-breakup work through of all my various things.

It's like this sometimes unwelcome breath of fresh air, being single. Again. I'm gradually recognising that most of the things about me are things I like. He even said as he left, "don't let anyone tell you that you need to change. You don't".

A nice sentiment, but less warm to hold onto once you're alone than you'd expect. I find myself quietly dealing with the rage of the next in a list of failed hopes. I'm going to stubbornly insist I'm not an idiot for believing that I might one day have a relationship like I want. All I'll say is, one day the motivation and the intelligence and the sense of humour will be doable, for me and someone else, some kind of human person.

The whole package. And some hot sex also, that would be nice.

treasure: my van, and travel

I was given a van to call my own last year when I arrived back in the country. I think this van was a bribery of sorts, to encourage me and my boyfriend at the time to stay in Australia, to adventure and explore. It spoke to my imagination, and so I started to make plans.

I stop to wonder now and then if it was the plan making which served to drive a wedge of sorts between myself and said ex. For I would guess there is nothing quite so truly terrifying as being confronted with a determined girl such as myself, full of ideas and plans, when you yourself have no idea what you want; where to go, what to do, who to be?

Planning for me is kind of a comfort. It means I am reassured that I will never be stuck, as it's always a flavour of escape I am planning. I planned for trips around Australia, across Great Deserts and to stop and rest quietly by beaches, to be nestled in bush or tucked in quietly among the families at a caravan park somewhere. The peace of sitting side by side with a loved one, listening to CD's (CD's! How retro!) and arguing good naturedly about what music to listen to next.

I feel a little sad to know my life in the van is not to happen quite this way- although we had some beautiful times on little camps around the place, we never journeyed far from home, never got to use the van to her full potential. Not together.

I've avoided the van for the past few months, a symbol of failed love and lost potential; much how I felt about the relationship with Aaron ending. Plus, I'd built up quite the mental block about driving a manual car, having never owned one or really driven one before. I wondered if I even wanted the van anymore. I realised that I did when a friend asked me one day what was going to happen with the van, in that tone which indicates a certain interest, to be followed fairly quickly by an offer to take the vehicle off my hands.

At that moment I realised I didn't want to let go of the chance for adventures, the kind you can only have in an awesome van such as she. And after camping a night in her for a party, I decided it was time to give her more of my love and attention. I had my first driving lesson the next day, and once I get over my fear of hill starts I'm confident I'll be fine.

I'll build up slowly to Going Somewhere. I'm not sure how I'll put out the awning at night time- I'm not really tall enough. There are some things I'll have to learn to do, like where to check the oil, how to park, how to pack things away safely so they don't come away going down windy hills, and more, I'm sure. I think she needs a name; currently I'm pretty fond of Maude the Mazda, as I plan to "renovate" her in the style of little old lady. I'm thinking floral seat covers, rose-patterned curtains with lace sewn on, patchwork quilt on the bed... (favourite ideas on display below).

As for where I'll go, I'm hoping to go down the coast to Melbourne, pop over to Tasmania, then maybe across as far as Adelaide if I haven't run out of enthusiasm by then. There's a place alongside me for a friend to come and share the driving and the cooking and the petrol money and the bed (very comfy, comfiest ever really) and the joys and the sorrows and the planning too. This person doesn't have to be a partner-type friend, unless I find myself amenable to sexy times in a van, but they have to be someone who likes to plan and adventure. No other sort need apply.

#fmsphotoadaynovember 6. a favourite thing

i am well aware that it's a little bit gross to post a picture of your boyfriend as your favourite thing. i mean, what am i, a teenager? what's next, those nonsense sums you do to work out how compatible you are with someone else as a percentage? don't i know boys have boy germs?

having a boyfriend, or a partner (as the grownups call it) is one of those funny things in life. i've had a few different ones so far, and a list of a great many who i'd have liked to call my boyfriend. after my last one didn't work out, i decided to settle into singledom in whistler, a place where (i believed) relationships based on love and mutual respect could not flourish, unless you are kate and phill, or mark and lisa.

actually, more relationships happen than you'd expect, but there's also (and excuse my bluntness here) plenty of whoring about. an excess of endorphins, alcohol and party drugs, combined with a general sense that nothing that happens in a whistler season is applicable in the real world, leads to many many walks of shame.

i barely ever dabbled in walks of shame myself. i instead fell in love with the snow, and the place, and the lifestyle filled with friends and extreme sport activities. wholesome stuff, you know? i sat back and appreciated the cuteness of boys in outerwear and toques (for boys they all were), did whatever i wanted nearly all of the time, and liked the freedom of it. no walks of shame, just tired and slightly drunk walks home from the hill or the bar or a potluck dinner, filled with shiny joy at falling snow and at the good in simple things of life.

the happy thing that happened next was that a person came along who i really quite liked, who for some reason also seemed to be quite liking me. and the very best part was that i still got to do all the fun stuff that i liked, without compromising my freedom or my friends or my energy and space. the second-best part was that he laughs at my jokes. if they're funny, anyways.

we had a lovely summer, followed by a tough winter when it became clear that due to my ankle injury i would not be one half of the most awesome snowboarding couple of all time. that was a struggle and somewhat of a black mark, only in the way of it necessitating the painful readjustment of expectations. not always so good at change, me, but i beg my humanity as an excuse there.

there were other bumps, like his inability to procure another visa for Canada; the making and breaking of plans, leaps of faith where people put others on planes not knowing when they'd get to see them again... just the regular stuff people do when they're in love and live in different countries.

anyway, not to spoil the whole story for you or nothin', but he's here now, in my house and my proximity, and my arms and my thoughts and all the places. i'm happy in a way that (mostly) makes allowances for the fact we've never lived together before and both have quite the propensity for moods, of all different sorts. true to form, i try to make him think what i think, and he just thinks what he wants to think; i keep trying to make jokes he'll laugh at and he keeps only laughing at the ones he actually thinks are funny; i keep forgetting my toothbrush when we go places and he keeps packing it for me; i keep making plans and he keeps up with me.

he really is a favourite thing, my person. and i still like him, and he still likes me, which i think is something of an accomplishment. and that is all i have to say for now about one of my favourite things.