An Open Letter to Merida

Dear Merida,

It's been 2 month's since you walked away and for 2 months I've been trying to find the right words to say.

I got accepted into a Prep Program at university starting next year. Reese and I are moving in together come the new year too. All my dreams are coming true and you're not here.
Maybe it's the summer rain, maybe it's the big life choices. But either way I miss you. I miss late nights and bottles of wine on your dining room table with the dogs licking our feet.

I keep trying to fill the void. Thinking  that if I love Reese enough or talk to Lesh enough that it will be filled. But the truth is that every night I cry for my best friend and that when Reese had his attack, all I wanted was you.

Remember that Grey's Anatomy quote that goes "Derek's the love of my life, but you're my soulmate"? Sometimes I think that's still true . Reese is everything to me. He's the reason I get up in the morning and why I can still giggle and smile. But he's not you. He doesn't get Carina jokes and he doesn't want to put on makeup and drink champagne till we fall off the table.

I'm mad at you because you walked away and because Reese put me in that position and because I fucked things up with you like everything else in my life. I don't deserve the things I have and God I'd give them all to have you back.

I still love you and wish it wasn't so hard to live without you sis
- Seven

One moment at a time

"Try to look at your experience here as a mandala, *Cara. Work hard to make something as meaningful and beautiful as you can. And when you're done, pack it in and know it was all temporary"- Adaption of the Yoga Jones quote from OINTB

If the road to hell is paved with good intentions, then surely the road to self-actualization is paved with loneliness and wars with time, or at least that's what I've garnered over the last month.

I don't know if it was by pure coincidence but September was one of the most strange months of my existence. One of transition and development and working harder than ever to push towards self actualization. 

Over the space of about 2 weeks. I lost my relationship of 6 months, my best friend of 2 years and had my car breakdown to the point of the needing nearly a grand in repairs. But I didn't fall apart. Instead I got up and watched as metaphorical windows began shattering around me. 

It's hard to explain what my life is at the present. How the passage of time is always painfully slow.  There are new periods of great loneliness and I miss constantly talking to the now ex and former best friend. Some days this manifests as a dark depression- a deep pool of pain as the extrovert inside me craves the company of others yet other days as a sign of addiction and gratitude at a chance for withdrawal and moving forward. 

It's a bizarre place to be in. One with a now seemingly over abundance of freedom, where aside from work I have 142 hours of free time. A number that near constantly overwhelms me. 

But that is the sheer beauty. I am free.  I feel closer than ever to myself, and have found a new sweetness of bond with my ex. I cherish the relationships I have with those around me and relish in the moments of sweet joy: of sex to the sound of rain on the tin roof, cuddles with my baby 'niece', floating in the pools in Southbank and the rush of endorphins when dancing.

There's no doubt that Reece and Merida changed me for the better. That thanks to them I walk forward confidently and with a fresh perspective on life. Despite our bitter ending- Merida taught me the true meaning of independence and how being alone is sometimes the best.

Then there's Reece, a person who I will always consider a close personal friend. I cannot thank you enough for cleaning the mirror and showing me how beautiful I am, for walking beside me as I hit milestone upon milestone in my personal life and for being the wonderfully rare kindred spirit that you are.

I've learnt to live by living each moment and not thinking more than five in advance. September taught me that life can change in a moment and the only way to move forward is to keep walking and being present.



As part of my healing process immediate post break up. I took a self portrait every day for the first week after. Here is my story (in random order)

I hate you!

I hate you!

I hate the way you snore and are never on time,

I hate your bad puns and childish ways.

And how I want hold you for days and days

I hate that I’m writing this, and how badly I rhyme

I  really hate the way you handle me, the way you can’t speak girl

Yet more so I hate the way you make it ok, the way you rock my world.

I hate that I can’t fix you when you’re hurt or understand what’s going on.

I hate that you don’t try to fix this, even though something’s clearly wrong.

But most of all......

I hate that I let myself fall in love and that now whenever you suffer, I suffer too.

I never want the pain of ever losing you.

You're my person!

When I was a kid there was one thing I wanted every year for Christmas. 

I wanted a best friend!

Unfortunately Santa never delivered. So year after year I hid away in the friendship of Anne and Diana- there was literally a point where I could quote half those damn books. I resigned myself to the fact that I was NEVER going to find someone as crazy as me.

                                                        (I always wanted a bosom friend)

Fast forward like a decade and something weird happened. I met my best friend at an art exhibition, that admittedly I only went along to for the free wine. Little did I realize that the Weasley look alike with the scary heals was masking what I'd wanted my whole life and that although we didn't know it then, our lives were about to be changed forever. 

     (This is pretty much what happened)

Let me try and explain.

I'm Dinky and she's Merida. 

We have that relationship where we can read each others minds so well that we scare the crap out of our boyfriends- best party trick EVER!. 

We understand our mutual co-dependency's on wine and coffee and don't judge them. 

We speak random babble fluently and yes we do start twitching without contact for over a week - the month we broke up was the WORST of my life.  

She's my sister, confidant, shopping assistant, life coach, soon to be business partner and my person

I love her and, despite being slightly annoyed that it took us 19 years to meet even though we grew up in the same town, I couldn't imagine my life without her. So remember- every once in a while- childhood dreams do come true. 

The Honeymoon is Over!

In every relationship, there's a "honeymoon" period. You're madly in love, they're perfect and the sex is mindblowing. But then the pigeon slams into the window and it shatters. Suddenly you'reacutely aware of their snoring, nagging voice and morning breath.

This week I learnt that adulthood has its own Honeymoon period. You start out fresh out of home- Centrelink and Mummy have your back! Pay Day is Pub Day and any money you earn is immediately spent on hipster tees, a gym membership and Chai lattes (The 2014 West End version of Sex, Drugs and Rock and Roll).

In the space of 3 days Centrelink axed my Healthcare Card, my car faltered for unknown reasons (leading me to quickly realise that "Boyfriend" is not Australian slang for "Taxi") and Mummy just couldn't save me this time.

There's no easy way to say it: Adulthood sucks! Working your ass off all week and then realising you have a choice between eating or medication isn't fun, nor is never having enough time for your loved ones or having to figure out tax returns.

Yet the thing is. I still wouldn't change a thing. Being an adult is exhausting and so overrated but in a way it's fun. Remember being a kid and playing "Grown ups"? No, not every day is like that, but God it's fun when it is! When I go to work for a week and come home to Reese having made me dinner, or sitting around for hours drinking wine with Merida - and subsequently challenging every fictional best friend relationship in history. It's well worth it for that!

     (Also when you make your bedroom look like an Ikea catalogue)

Woo Hoo *Bitchy Woman

Being a woman is a bitch!

I swear if I hear one more man complain about PMS or hear the phrase "Damn it woman". I'll become a lesbian just to troll you all. 

Being a woman isn't fun! Whilst I'm sure the male gender comes with your own problems. I'm yet to hear you fella's being teased about your emotions- the closest you get to that is the accusation that you have the emotional range of a teaspoon. 

Well, Why is being a woman such a bitch I hear you sarcastically ask. 

Let me break it down for you. Work, Body and ultimately - Society

Work

Can we please stop pretending that women aren't cut out for man's jobs? Or that there's even such a thing as a "man" or "woman's" job. I work in a physically demanding retail job. My boss and A.M are women and I promise you - we all work just as hard as any of our male coworkers. I'm lucky to work for a company that values equality- but damn I feel sorry for my sisters on salary who earn 70c to every man's $1. Is it worth mentioning that because of the laws around paid maternity, we're likely working harder than our male counterparts to make ends meat in some circumstances? 

To be clear- This our CURRENT Minister for Education 

Body

 If I hear one more word about 'empowering women' or 'body image' I'm going to burn and sacrifice my designer Zara dress........

Ok now I have your attention.....ladies and fashion conscious men. When I started this blog I vowed to be both brutally honest and cynical. I may have been away for a while but I'm back and tonight will be writing about something I'm truly passionate about- No it isn't wine- although that does explain my recent emplo.........Anyway. 

So there's a few things I take issue with here. But it all comes down to this

CAN WE PLEASE STOP CALLING CURVY WOMEN REAL WOMEN.........

Seriously!!!
A while ago I got into a discussion on social media with several young women on the topic of shaming women for different body sizes. 

As pointed out by S, 25 "Whether you're too large, or too small- just because you don't fit into societies norms  means you're fair game for anyone to have a crack at" (Read more: Like Seriously?)

 I find it disturbing that as a weird twist of 'protest' against the media culture of skinny models,  common society has started to shame skinny girls and praise curves. Get into a dictionary (No you may NOT cheat and Google it) and look up the definitions of "Real" and "Woman" I think you'll find that the only definition available is a human identifying as female. 

WHY THE HELL AM I RUNNING?????

When I was 12, puberty hit and I had firmly decided that, unlike my classmates, there was no point in running unless my life was in danger- pretty reasonable logic right? It wasn't apparently or at least not until 9 years later when Tracey Spicer got up the gall to tell it like it is. The Lady Stripped Bare

My next point on the topic of "Body". Our bodies take a beating- not only do we get the fun of childbirth but also the parasitic accomplice of PMS and menstruation.

Now while you guys are happily joking about your bitch being on the rags or yelling "Shut up woman" over our hormonal outbursts, we're battling a physical condition that is clearly an evolutionary joke.

 As any loving father of daughters or emotionally in tune boyfriend will tell you- We are NOT having fun when we're clutching our uterus's and going through more emotions than Melbourne does weather in 30mins. So if we have the decency to not publicly mock your weird obsessions with boobs-  which by the way hurt, ooze, grow weird hairs and hate the booby prisons known as bra's, can you please shut up about our emotions?

                                                            Pretty much actually

Society

I know this girl called *Aleisha. She's one of the sassiest, most gorgeous women I've ever met and I'm proud to call her one of my best friends. To me she's just Aleisha- defined only by herself. But to so many others she's still defined by the fact she used to be *Stephen. Aleisha is an inspiration, because despite the fact it's the 21st century- she still battles against a society that condemns transgender people and sometimes seems hell bent on reverting back to the time before human rights or feminism itself.

Dear Society,

I don't care if you're male, female, conservative or a freaking squirrel. Can you please stop making it so damn hard for my gender.

CAN YOU PLEASE STOP WISHLIST

Making clothes shopping a trauma
Ruining our self-esteem and body confidence
Calling sexually liberated women Sluts and Whores
Putting stupid taxes on tampons
Discriminating against transgender and Bi people - No I'm not fucking "confused"
Mocking lesbians
Thinking all feminists hate men and we're just a hoard of angry vagina's
Judging us because of OUR choices about OUR lives - I'm looking at you anti-abortionists
Sending us mixed messages resulting in this ( Apparently we don't need feminism? )
Giving us crap if we're brave enough to speak up against anything

And FINALLY.................

Pissing us off to the point where we find it necessary to write posts like this in the first place!

It's August 2014 and I'm off to research entering a law degree

Losing yourself

It's raining, and rain makes me think. I have tea and an hour before I need to leave for work. This piece has been a work in the making of several months- So forgive the apparent lack of continuity. The thing is though- I don't make sense and that's whats so delightfully wonderful about me.

When I started writing this post, it began as a forced process to "prove a point" and ultimately ignore a now glaringly obvious point about my life. I'm hesitant to write this because of both my love of denial and tendency to have 'startling revelations' that result in intense face-palming and no action being taken. This is a relatively poignant moment for me though and it seems foolish to waste an opportunity to write.


 I've been absent for a few months and - despite the fact my readership probably consists of my parents best friend, I figured I owed it to you guys to get out of bed and bring my snarky cynicism back to the page.

I suppose part of the reason is because the last few months I feel like I havent had a voice- insert shield against feminist uproar/ accusation about having a patriarchal boyfriend here.

 My life has taken on a blissful level of boring, a world where my biggest whinge is that there's new species of mould growing in my housemates crockery- really wish I was kidding about that. It's not that I don't read feminist articles and rage over politics anymore, but rather I know that that's not going to pay my rent.....yet anyway.

Somehow in 4 months I've become an adult. Apparently that doesn't happen overnight, I call bullshit. I blame a few things, primarily my first 'adult relationship' and becoming totally financially independent - which I still think are seriously overrated by the way.

So I got a permanent part time job and within a week realized two major things. Firstly that retail is not an easy job and secondly? No wonder my parents are always so tired!.  Suddenly I LEGITMATELY  need to do my laundry, really really badly; end up looking at my pay check each week with a "I worked THAT hard for THIS", let alone my serious envy of people who get normal weekends. I love my job, and on a recent holiday-  I swear I started twitching after 4 days without it.

The other night we talked. Of the many things said and debated that night the one thing that truly smacked me in the fact was "You act like a 1950's conservative house wife", It came fast and furious. How had the once vivacious, independent and proudly feminist Cara  given way to what I'm pretty sure is Tony Abbott and Chris Pyne's ideal 'woman'. I had surrendered my voice, become dependent on a man and was insisting on doing the domestic chores constantly because "I'm a woman".

That night I made a promise to myself that the rule book went out the window- and it kind of has. This week a comedic hero died and my role model marriage fell apart. Nothing in life makes sense or is serious. It's so easy to get caught up in the hum drum of work, relationships and even depression. There is no startling revelations and no one is invincible. I'm violently against the taxes put on tampons and to hell with being a Stepford Wife.

There is so much I want to say and ask, and even with my lack of life skills. I really want to know how the hell you deal with a stray possum in the work place.

My house is a mess, and this week I was bitten by a crab the size of my thumbnail.

(Attempting to be a 1950's housewife)

Time Indifferent

I'm different. I accept that. 

I am 21 and something. I have a job. I have friends and a boyfriend. I appear normal. But am I?

Sixteen

My eyelids stay shut
I won't let them move
They are all that's keeping me here
Keeping that wave upon the sand

I step out in dress and shoes
A vision of crimson
Pose Smile Flash
Frozen in time

Sunshine filters through
Everything invites me in
Clasp tight upon my breast
Verbose Gumption

Wind Ice Sunrise
Running along the dune
Directors Cut

He traces
Love on my belly
Safety a vague identity

The ocean rushes
Wave reclaimed
Dreams shattered
Eye's awake

Seventeen

When you're failing english
I am there, study notes in hand

When you're fighting with your boyfriend
I am there, listening

When youre abandoned by your friends
I am there, sitting by your side

Yet when I'm failing science
You couldnt care less

When I'm crying over a friend
So sit there and say nothing

When you abandon me
Well thats that 

Eighteen 


Would they even notice?
If I went insane?

Would they even care?
If I went insane?


Would they even talk to me?
If I went insane?

What if suddenly?
I just stopped talking?
or stopping running around?

Would they even help?

Would they even notice?
If I went insane?

No! They'd be too embarrassed! 
Too horrified and ashamed!


Twenty-One 

Are things really different to then?
No?
Yes? 
Even I can't answer that.......

Into Darkness

Today I woke up, showered and then put on the same clothes I wore to bed. I was exhausted. I'm sleepy and sad and too tired to even make tea or food. Because what's the point?

I am 21 and yesterday my manager informed me I have no hours due to Easter. I cried, but then realised it didn't matter because I don't go out anymore anyway. Going out means putting on a bra and mental make up. It means working so hard to project an image that I'm ok and that I won't scream or claw at my skin in the street- even though I want too, every hour of every day.

I have a boyfriend, whom every day tries so hard to love me and yet whom I feel indifferent too. He may be the best thing that's happened to me in years and I know it but I can't feel it. My mind tells me I love him, but I can't remember the last time my body felt excited in his presence, that I felt like his actual girlfriend and not just a sock doll with painted on lips and eyes.

Some days are better than others, some days I can get up, clean the house, drink half a bottle of something and appear happy and normal to the world. But days like today I can't. I see no point in getting out of bed and question why I even bothered to shower.

At first depression is a really sad stage- we cry and drama to our friends and slowly but surely push them away. But as the disease advances- we stop caring, we feel horrible numbness and darkness and become committed to hiding it when we do venture to the world. I talk to my friends all the time on Facebook, but they never know what's going on inside.

Everything irritates me, and anything can set me off- So I try not to leave my room and my doona. For the first time in my life I am experiencing not just the emotional symptoms of depression but the physical too- and that really scares me.

All I want is to be normal, have energy and be able to get up and do things like normal people. I want to be beautiful and skinny and have a good job and wear nice clothes and a group of friends. But that will never be normal for me.  If I can write half a job application today- then that's something big.

Quite often it feels impossible to explain my definition of 'normal' but I imagine it's like the weather......in Melbourne. On average I get 180 days of sunshine a year if I'm lucky and even then I can go from freezing cold to sweltering heat to pouring rain to dust storms in the space of 30 mins.

Do you know how hard it is to study or work like that? When some days you feel like you never grew out of puberty with your hormones and others you just don't see the point of getting out of bed. My illness isn't a choice and I can't just get over it. It's a cage and I really don't have control over how I feel.

Convincing people that I'm not faking it or lazy or have a vicious personality or am attention seeking is hard. I even struggle to convince doctors sometimes. "Just because you don't understand it, Doesn't mean it isn't real to me!" is what I feel like screaming sometimes, but I don't because even then they'd laugh at me.

I am not writing this to garner attention or pity but to try and explain what it's like from the inside out.

T.V Series- What they really represent!

It's Thursday night and you've just ditched your girlfriend's offer to cook for you- Why? Because hello! Season finale of HIMYM

We're all guilty of 'watching one episode' to check out a series before quickly proceeding to binge for the next 48 hours straight. You become personally invested in the series, the characters and their stories! Then you go outside and realise that no one else is particularly devastated, much less cares, about the death of George O'Malley (Grey's Anatomy- if you haven't watched past Season 5 then we really can't be friends!)

You're not part of a fandom, no you're not obssessed- you just can't go to bed without playing the soothing sounds of the "Battlestar Galactica" Soundtrack as your bedtime lullaby.......

Admittedly some of these binge sessions aren't the worst things that could happen!

My list of top series (in no particular order) and my ever accurate assessment!

The O.C (2003-2007)- Assuming you were a first gen O.cer, it ultimately gave you unrealistic expectations of adolescence, high school and guys. However it  was the better "Team *cute guy" debate (Sorry but Twilight does NOT compare to Seth vs. Ryan) and it did make geek's sexy- Cheers Seth!.

Friends (1994-2004) - There is a reason this show lasted a decade. No matter how many times you watch it- Chandler Bings 'bad' humor never gets old. Sure it played on cliched character stereotypes but that didn't make it any less entertaining. Friend's may have ended a decade ago - someone hand me a walking cane!, but it's re-runs have become emotional chicken noodle soup.

Grey's Anatomy (2005-Present) So it's basically the Bridget Jones of t.v series and the best threat of punishment for misbehaving boyfriends since the invention of DFO's. Admitting you like Grey's Anatomy is a little like publically admitting you enjoy cheap wine: You don't want to admit you've gained motivation from the narration of an otherwise glorified soap opera, that you know Eric Dane and Patrick Dempsey only as "McSteamy" and McDreamy" or that you were secretly heartbroken after they killed off ******** at the end of season ******* (Still not as many deaths as Game of Thrones!). Oh I forgot- It also gave unrealistic expecta.......just kidding- There's no such thing as an ugly doctor!

Star Trek (BC- 2005)- Everyone has a Star Trek story and I've formed deep relationships with lecturers, coworkers and friends based on the knowledge of what "The Borg" refers to. That being said I've also almost lost relationships over who the better captain was. Star Trek has the brilliance of combining realistic to achieve sci-fi with morality and really epic quotes. It really did make a lot of radical concepts - like being a woman, black, asexual, or nerdy totally accept to society - just as long as you are wearing a really flattering jumpsuit.

Battlestar Galactica (2004-2009) - Every series has their identifier, so why not have yours be the power to curse constantly on prime time t.v and make technosexuality appealing?. Of course there's the brilliant plot line and beautiful interaction between politics, religion and science and you really do love Roslin's 'visions' on 'kamala root' and Adama's "Come at me Bro" attitude but lets be honest- The only things anyone ever remembers about BSG is that Six and Baltar and that pilot chick have the sex life most of us dream of.

How I Met Your Mother (2005-2014) - Barney's real life counterpart may be the guy we avoid at all costs, but who hasn't read the Bro Code? Who hasn't found themselves personally identifying with any of the other characters? and who hasn't celebrated the fact the world's most legen.....wait for it.....dairy straight dude is in fact played by a gay guy?

Dexter (2006-2013) - Only in America would writers contrive a way to make psychopathic serial killers sexy and appealing to the general public. I never had the misfortune of getting addicted to Dexter- mainly because after watching two episodes I developed a hyper suspicion of every tall, blonde and muscular guy I knew. However those two episodes I watched did leave me with a disconcertingly blase attitude towards blood.

House (2004-2012) - In reality- if you had Dr House as your doctor, you'd be screwed. In the magical world of television though- this guy is a legend. Not only does he get away with being a total jackass but the series also reinvented the concept of "Wilson!". It goes without saying that serious credit goes to the writers of this series, even if it did make life slightly harder for people who genuinely do have Lupus!

Game of Thrones (2011-Present) - Haven't actually watched this since I'm involved in politics and hence don't need too, but from what I hear it's the mother of all soul gathering, overly dramatic and lets kill off everyone in the series there is - See my point? In fact - Just join a political party


Happy Weekend Folks!

The Art of Losing

They say dying is easy and it probably is. Living is really god damn hard.

Recently I was put in a position I'd never been in before. I was put between 2 sets of friends, both of whom had valid arguments. I never got as far as studying diplomacy in I.R, and I haven't watched all of TNG so maybe that was it. I made a snap decision to take the middle road and thought that was the safest bet. It wasn't.

Once you get past the apologies, the tears, the fighting and defending your case you're left with the reality. You're left with the acceptance of several different stories of what happened, a knowledge that only time will amend, and that for now all you can do is focus on moving one forward in front of the other. You accept that your life will never be the same again and that you can longer think more than 10mins ahead. There's no point in fantasizing about an alternate future because that may never exist.

"And when that life turned against us, we comforted ourselves in the knowledge that it really wasn't our fault, not really. You cannot play God then wash your hands of the things that you've created. Sooner or later, the day comes when you can't hide from the things that you've done anymore"

You recall what you've survived in the past and try to accept that this to is another thing you'll have to learn. That those who lined your footpath, all those other times you learned to walk again, are no longer there and it's all on you now kiddo. How hard you fight is up to you, no one is measuring your success now. This is rock bottom and it's your chance to build yourself from scratch .

..............................................

A few weeks later.......

In time things get easier. You still fight your demons each day, but you know that you can get up and go to coffee shop with the man who, despite the odds,  is falling for you. You find a way to accept your empty bank account and smile at your Ikea bed. Your life isn't the glorious whirlwind of going to the gym and advancing yourself beyond expectation like you thought- but you're alive and you've survived and you'll continue to do so.

You still deeply miss hearing your best friend telling you to grab your gun and bring in the cat and you're terrified of tomorrow. You gain clarity in realising it wasn't the end of the world  because no matter what happens next you're walking on your own two feet and you are still here. Besides, the art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities but it wasn't a disaster

That awkward moment when..........

Once, on a school trip to visit universities, which was designed mostly to convince my grade that the HSC wasn't just "That little quiz before Schoolies", a friend of mine Percy had great difficulty with one of the lecture desk-chairs. It was my introduction to the 2011 craze of "That awkward moment when......"

Thing is, back in 2011, I didn't realise that in the coming years I was about to become the Queen of Awkward Moments! Worst of all most have involved meeting boyfriends or friends parents. 

Now, I'm not particularly proud of the time that my then boyfriends father walked past an open window and saw parts of my body his son hadn't even seen up close yet, or when I found myself explaining to my friend's very dignified and sophisticated English mother what a MILF was.

 But the icing was truly laid thick on the cake when whilst at work the other night I was greeted warmly by a gentleman whom I instantly realised was probably of some vague but largely important significance to my life. In my defence, I was totally in the lock and load serve people mode. However I'm not sure that excuses the fact I didn't recognise WILL"S FATHER.

So remember- No matter how embarrassed you're feeling right now. I can promise you- I've done worse  

Culinary...........Yeah lets call them "Triumphs"

Late last night I was going through my phone and attempting to clear out some of the 1058 photos.........Let's face it, that was NEVER going to end well!

Now aside from the 500+ selfies and 'whose body part is that?" a large majority of the photos depict a strangely accurate timeline of my 'evolution' as a chef since leaving home. 

There was many a great phase in my time-

The deserts phase-  Caramel slice, Pancake wars* and bourbon with a side of trifle ......... well you get the point.

The enough-pasta-to-feed-a-village-in-Africa-for-a-month-phase- Vegetarian goo (errr I mean mac and cheese) and tuna pasta,

The 'classy' organic hippy phase- maple salmon and spinach & fetta pie made with pastry that was more or less the consistency and flavor of cement

The um what phase- the eggs that were half frozen when I cracked them and the brownies that were referred to for over a year as "pompeii" (Sadly not photographed),

The vegetarian phase- trademarked mostly by attempts at paneer curry and homemade spinach "naan" (aka half baked dough that was fed to a very very drunk Alex)

Don't worry, I've since 'evolved' to making sure I live within sneezing distance of as much takeaway as possible


*Pancakes shown were actually made by Alex, I can't make pancakes to save my life

Part 5: Acceptance

This is part 5 of a five part series on grief. Given the five stages of grief never come in order, neither will these posts. 

Tonight I passed my ex and his girlfriend on the street and it reminded me of this, a piece I wrote several months ago shortly after we broke up. 

DEFECTIVE

When I was 15, I became defective. 

Lose the romance, lose the drama, lose the statistic. I became defective

It wasn’t really something I did or said and yet it wasn’t really something that happened to me. It just was.

It was that when I looked at myself in the mirror years later I saw something that had occured without existing.

That to say I was defective, broken to begin with was somehow easier to understand than what had actually happened to me.

I remember at a Hare Krishna Service once and hearing them talk about how modern knowledge was trying to interpret and understand experience whilst veydic knowledge gave a complete understanding. That’s what it felt like to me and that's what I'm still searching for. This is a whole thing to me, not just a piece that others perused over and tried to equate and comprehend. 

I always took great comfort in statistics, except when it came to this. They say 1 in 3 are defective, and so, so many times I would sit there with my friends and the knowledge that I was the defective one.

“It wasn’t your fault” is the mantra of everyone- from your therapist, to your best friend, to the guy you just tried to sleep with. But you never see it that way. Least of all when you realise what happened has made you defective.

Sure we find ways to laugh about it, smile and repeat the story like we’re reading off an order at a restaurant. In time we form comfort in the siblinghood of statistics and a tainted warping of “Solidarity Forever”.

For a few years the victim card is a comfort, a curtain to hide behind when the fear of attraction knocks on your door. But as time progresses you inevitably find yourself seeing it as a prison, the past a devils snare that infects you with an inability to relax.

You find yourself sick to the stomach, crying and pleading with life to make you normal. This entrapment infects you with other things. Mental things, that like the defectiveness itself you become dissolved in hiding.

And yet you also play scientist and engineer. Constructing your own little crutches to try and fix it. Seeking ways to survive medical examinations and partially repair other systems damage, or at least build up an arsenal and ready weapons control.

I wish there was a happy ending, and for a moment I thought there was. But a brief antidote became more venom of the snare and once again I was left staining the sheets and crying for forgiveness, pleading for absolution from this personified hell.

Those who tell you dying is easy are probably right. I won’t say my life is easy or hard. Yet it just is. 

.....................

Tonight when I passed my ex we stopped momentarily. In that second he looked at me a said "Wow". Wow it is indeed, that even though I felt like dying when he left me, tonight I accepted that it happened and I am ok.

Things happen in our lives that are hard and painful, but eventually we gain that the acceptance of life and that our life is as it is. For all we've lost, for all we've gained. It is. We find our serenity

Atleast 40 Dishes, Providing hope in a 21 and somethings world!

Look I've never actually read "40 Chances- Finding Hope in a Hungry World" by Warren E. Buffett (How ironic). In fact I didn't actually know the book existed until I attempted to Google "world poverty ads" but I hope it's a great book.
The point of tonight's post is to do a little shameless work place promotion. Now kids, I failed math in Year 10, but I did get far enough to learn the following basic equation.........

If x = y then y must equal a.23b factor 0........Just kidding

Increase in amount of customers that come to Cara's workplace = ^ in Cara's hours which therefore = more food x energy for Cara = More witty and awesome blog posts.

Seriously though. I've worked in a few Indian places in my time and the food at Ghan....wait..... Gandhi (Yeah so I'm a smidge dyslexic) is pretty darn good. The staff are friendly and our location means that dinner with us means prime seats to the Riverfire and New Years Eve fireworks- Not to mention our weekly Bollywood dancers on Friday and Saturday nights

So why treat yourself this weekend with some quality curry and fantastic service!

Did someone say curry?

"Roughing" It

So here I am. It's 10.30pm and I have a 5.30am wake up to go visit my parents for the day.
This would be fine......except I'm at my sisters place, in the forest, and twitching at every single noise there is.
I'm tired and my brain is undoubtedly declaring "Fuck Cara! Go to sleep" but I just can't. I grew up in the Byron Shire and yet it's amazing how quickly my body has adapted to the comforting sounds of Boeing 747's, snippets of neighbours conversations and stray ambulances.
It's at the point where I'm considering youtubing city sounds to get me to sleep. I can feel my country friends passing judgement and sis, please don't take it personally.
Admittedly, staying with my sister isn't it exactly "roughing it". She lives in what is definitively a mansion/ fairytale castle. There's a pool, a coffee machine and a Cara proof bathtub- essentially all I need to be happy in life- Oh and her of course!
Some people go on alcohol benders- and lets face it, our twenties are the decade we permanently preserve our livers, but this week is looking more like a coffee bender. It's not that I physically can't do 5am, it's just I work in a job where right now is my normal dinner time. I'm beginning to think 2am-10am isn't the best sleeping habit to have.
I like my sleep, and distinctly remember the battle I used to have at uni of finishing assignments at 3am. I never pulled an all-nighter but learnt very very quickly how to survive on 3hrs sleep.
I'm thinking that's my reality tonight. So yes I am roughing it ;)

"Advancing" YOUR Social Standing!: Creative alternatives to "I dropped out of university"

There’s something really awkward about saying you're dropping out of university- or as I like to call it "Re-evaluating my tertiary position whilst accelerating my personal growth". Aside from losing the respect from every single family member (except for my parents who are still relishing the fact I graduated high school) it puts you in a weird societal lull. 

I used to study politics so I know my way around a thesaurus and have subsequently realized that it all comes down to good marketing!

So how do you get around the awkwardness of "So what do you study?" Ah never fear my dear reader! Tonight I present you with.......

"Advancing" YOUR social standing: Creative alternatives to "I dropped out of university"

Scenario 1

Location: Workplace conversation  with co-worker or client

Solution: “Oh I used to attend (Their university)” – leave them to make their own assumptions

Scenario 2

Location: West End

Solution: “Yeah man I was studying (insert degree here) but I realised that it wasn’t the right path for me so I’m taking some time to really connect with myself and the universe”

Scenario 3

Location: Pretentious Relatives

Solution: Lie, just blatantly lie. This is the perfect opportunity to impersonate your mate with the GPA of 6.5 who has been giving you essay by essay descriptions of their degree’s for the last 5 years.

Scenario 4

Location: University of Queensland,

Solution:  See Scenario 3

Scenario 5

Location: Parents

Solution: Well I realised it wasn’t what I want to do in life and I’m just focusing on working and doing odd little certificates until then

Scenario 6

Location: Friends parents

Solution: Oh I don’t study I work and am deeply committed to my involvement in  (insert charity you think is pretty)

Scenario 7

Location: New Roommates

Solution: Oh I was studying but then work took over and I’m deferring (This argument is particularly well supported if you have a social life akin to a celebrity)

Scenario 8

Location: Internet Dating or one night stands

Solution: Profile’s don’t ask for occupations, use your hobbies as your job description ie Personal Shopper

Scenario 9

Location: Job interview for something you’re actually qualified for

Solution: Start by not listing your time at university on your resume. If you did do this however your words should be “Well I realised I was a more (Opposite of what your degree actually involved) kind of person and I really think your company will help me in advancing my skills in this industry”

Scenario 10

Location: Institution related drinking session

Solution: Pick a random area – preferably one too obscure for a drunk person to ask follow up questions on ie. Comparative Evolutionary Genetics

At the end of the day, there’s no shame in stepping back from the game and hanging out at Centrelink for a bit. If all else fails, 1. Just lie- I’m fairly certain most of the ALP thinks I’m studying at UQ thanks to my intimate knowledge of the campus and friends currently studying there, and 2. Appreciate the world of inside jokes your time at university opened up for you.

Xx Who am? That's a secret better written than the script of Gossip Girl xo xo C.

 University Summarised!

The Alex Murphy Appreciation Society

Let me preface this post by saying that as much as he begs me too *Alex will NOT be aliased as “Barney Stinson”, “Mitchell Johnston” or “Darryl Kerrigan” .

I first met Alex when I was living in Malignant St. Typical story really, he moved in,went for a walk with a case of cider, woke up hungover in my bed and became my brother.  Malignant St was a nightmare, but that’s another story that even Pepperidge Farm wants to forget.

For you to understand the existence of the Alex Murphy Appreciation Society, it is crucial you understand what is Alex Murphy.  He is the guy who shamelessly had wine for breakfast at 9 on a Sunday, dragged a couch 2km down a hill after a Sunday session,  Views “The Bro Code” as a way of life and built a bar out of milk crates.

Because of these stories, late one night it became decided that he really needed a Facebook page. Now admittedly the Facebook page was a shining example of Myth 2 (See: Myth vs. reality post) but the argument stands that for the 8 quotes that were actually posted on it, it was worth it!

Well that’s me for now and remember kids! “Don’t make friends with salad” 

The realities of being a woman

So recently I went and saw Fiona O’Loughlin’s “My Brilliant Career” at the Brisbane Powerhouse. I’ve always been a fan of female comedic greats like herself and Judith Lucy, but to be within vpl analysing distance was an honor I’m not likely to forget.  

Aside from teaching us exactly how to crawl to the fridge for more wine at 3am, these women stand as glorious testament to the realities of being a woman in today’s world.

I suppose I was always a feminist.  As a child I was enraptured by characters such an Anne Shirley and Captain Kathryn  Janeway ( to this day I still want to break a slate over some guys head), then more recently Julia Gillard,  Quentin Bryce, Meshel Laurie and of course my beloved comedians. Women who truly proved themselves to be strong independent women who didn’t need no man to complete them.

Indeed,  my mother attempted to foster such an attitude by teaching me about the great feminism movement of the 70’s and how to cook, clean and properly serve a man…….yeah I know but this was the 90’s.

 Funny thing is that at 21 I’ve realised the realities of being a woman are whatever the hell we want them to be – having / wanting a vagina, shopping, running businesses, being a mummy,  wine, tequila, travel, fighting for equality, being for/against abortion, raising goats. It’s all relative!

When you think about it, aside from childbirth- these woman we idolise aren’t talking about the realities of being a woman. They are talking about the realities of being a human being

Happy International Women’s Day people!

Myth vs. Reality

So here I am.

 21. minimally employed, unqualified and attempting to commit myself to a blog for the 'lets not talk about itth' time. 

I suppose I could go off into some ambitious fantasy about changing the world or how glorious my life is. The reality is that I'm actually sitting at the dining room table, in the newly created dining room of my eclectic Brisbane sharehouse, debating exactly how lazy I'm going to be with regards to lunch- toast is looking pretty damn good right now. 

Given it's my first post I feel it appropriate to give a myth vs reality summary of my life. Dear Reader (aka close friend or relative I've probably bribed into reading this) please forgive me for the following. 

Hang on, I'm going to get some toast 

Ok back, Now I'm sufficiently toastastified lets get started

Myth 1: 

 "I'm just taking some time to myself to really figure out what I want to do with my life and studying distance TAFE as a stop gap" 

Ok let me burst that bubble for you right now. Unless you're a relative with exceedingly high expectations then you've probably clued into the four things that really means.
1. I really have no clue what I want in life
2. I'm really freaking lazy
 3. I'm somewhat intimidated by my friends/ roommates who seem to be in some weird cylon farm breeding new super degree's
and 4. I've looked at my assignments.......repeatedly, in different internet browsers and at different times.

Myth 2:

"I know! I'm going to (Insert somewhat unrealistic goal that results in all 5 days of commitment)!"

The amount of times I've bounded to my friends, on an upward swing of hormones or liquid personality, with some brilliant scheme that inevitably fell apart within the first week is almost cruel. These schemes have included the groundbreaking genius of  blogging, finishing university, becoming a nanny, dieting, starting my own bussiness and travelling to Asia this year. Sufficient to say most, and by most I mean all, of these schemes fell apart well within the incubation period, however not without their small additions to my general knowledge. There might be an underlying fear of commitment or failure here, but, as you can see, I'm deeply committed to continuing to fail to commit.  

Myth 3: 

"I'm soooo busy this week"

Busy (adj): The state of which Cara's week is filled with social reps, gym, 2 shifts of work, publically declaring her need to do laundry, and a metric F'ton of half starting projects  and watching t.v series to the point of almost full episode quotation. 

Myth 4:

"I'm very much involved in politics" 

 There is a big difference between having a photo of yourself and the former prime minister/s on your wall and actually doing something. Although this stuff does sound great on an internet dating profile ...... and that brings me to Myth 5

Myth 5:  

"I'm really happy being single" 

Ok maybe there are some people who genuinely are, and if you're one of them - ROCK ON. But I'm not, and the "I'm really happy being single" line is really just a verbal sock in the mouth for together people who find it necessary to remind single people of the fact our biological, social, emotional, sexual orientation, god knows what clocks are ticking. I'm not happy being single, I just accept it- much in the same way I've accepted that I will never, ever be a geneticist (Not that I ever really wanted too- don't you need math for that???) 

Anyway. That's me for now. Hopefully I haven't lost too much respect over this post and hopefully I actually make another in the next decade.