I like anime, videogames, cakes, kittens, green-tea, funny things, the people I follow.
I live in Australia, I'm 24, and I take the train heaps.
Nice to meet you, let's hang out sometime.
hahaha tony abbott weeping over mandela shut up you would lock him up for years if he was here in your time
Omfg I just discovered that the English lyrics from A Day In The Life Of A Fool were not a part of the original Portuguese song Manhã De Carnival, and not only are the English lyrics not a direct translation of the original text but they are not even related to the original text! The original Portuguese lyrics are completely different to the lyrics of the English version that I have been working from, which by the way bare absolutely no affect on the melody, harmony or rhythm of the chart, that I have been painfully analysing for the last few weeks as if they do.
I feel wordy. I’ve felt wordy all day but I’ve also felt tired and I’ve also felt exhausted and like I’m being stretched in a hundred different directions.
It’s this marriage thing that’s got me buggin’.
Most days on Facebook I see people that I went to school with getting married, young people meeting their match and just going for it. Ugly dresses, uncomfortable grooms, and that god awful fruit cake smothered an inch thick with concrete sugar. Blech.
Should I be married? Am I going to get married? I used to have answers to these questions. I don’t anymore.
I see those guys, whom I last saw in school uniforms and passing each-other each day in the hallway obliviously, and I think, “wow, how did that work?”.
How did they get through all the b.s that comes along with trying to make two lives work together, two lives that were completely fully functioning on their own, and then bind them together legally and physically and financially and emotionally and still keep some kind of air of romance? And finding those insanely evasive balances between freedom without being confined, together as one but still individuals, everything working together flawlessly but enough challenges to keep it interesting, different but same? It does my head in.
It frightens me.
When I was 17 I was ready to throw myself into marriage.
When I was 19 I was ready to throw myself into marriage.
When I was 22 I was ready to throw myself into marriage.
All this time I’ve been ready and waiting, all this time I’ve been day dreaming things like what kind of mother would I make?
What will I look like on my wedding day?
Will my husband cheat on me?
How do you know how much money to set aside for the electricity bill?
How do mortgages work?!
Am I even ready for this?
I thought I knew what I wanted, and with my 25th birthday now less than a month away I can’t help but cast my mind back to the good old days when I thought that by now I would definitely by married, probably with child, and a house. I thought I’d be settled, I thought I’d be in the ‘adult’ phase of my life, I thought I’d be… something.
Was I naive? Probably.
But at least I knew what I wanted.
Now I have no idea,
Tonight I ate potatoes and vegetables for the third time in as many days for dinner, and as I sit here and consider weather or not I’m nutritionally balanced enough to be having this conversation with myself I look around that vicious face-slap of egotistical wealth we call Facebook and I click like on their wedding photos. I am genuinely happy for them, and I hope they are truly happy and didn’t just jump into the deep end because everyone else seems to be. I don’t begrudge her a husband or a happily ever after.
At this point in my life I’m starting to see why cliches are cliches, there’s so many bullshit one liners I’ve caught myself thinking that it makes me sick, and at the end of it all I’m feeling like I don’t really want to be married right now.
Could I be married? Sure!
Should I be? Fuck no.
But even in the face of all that, even when I’m resolute in my decision to just watch the world evolve around me as I sit back and sip cocktails and sooth myself with thoughts like, “at-least I don’t have kids to deal with” and, “I could pay a mortgage but I’d rather pizza” and my personal favourite, “they wish that they had my life”, I still feel that burning instinct that sings to my blood every-time I see a pregnant woman with something shiny on her left hand…
When will I grow up?
or more importantly…
When will I be ready to grow up?