I'm my own worst enemy when it comes to writing. I'll start a sentence, and just as swiftly, I'll erase it. I attempt to approach an idea from a different angle by changing my choice of words only to find myself becoming increasingly frustrated when I read them back. I end up tossing my journal aside or slamming my laptop shut simply because the words won't flow (largely due to the fact that I agonisingly scrutinise every detail of what I've written). This first paragraph alone has been altered more times than I'd willingly admit. As far as my writing is concerned, it's never quite as good as I want it to be; it's never perfect.
In my twenty-three years, I've come to understand that this concept of 'perfection' is somewhat of a fantasy. While we may be consciously aware of its non-existence, it's something we continue to strive for. Even if the perfect life is unattainable, we'll make damn sure that we get as close to it as humanly possible. In doing so, we begin to develop ideas of what an ideal life is, respectively. Our definitions are complemented by our desires and dreams, creating a form of perfection that is entirely unique to us. My nit-picking certainly doesn't stop with my writing; I critique and analyse just about everything else I do too. It's no easy feat satisfying an overactive and ambitious mind. A series of trials (and errors), however, have helped me to establish the foundations for what I do want in life and what I hope for myself. With each experience, I feel as though I'm closer to uncovering my version of happiness that hasn't necessarily been as easy to find as supposed societal norms might suggest. I've wondered about how to best stage the topic I'm about to discuss, because it's not one that I can easily sum up in a few words (to be fair, it's not even a singular idea). I thought about breaking it up into more digestible chunks, but the individual pieces are so intertwined, it would seem unnatural to divide them. In this post, I will gloss over some of the key components of my life (a comprehensive account would require me to publish a novel), and attempt to explain how perfectly imperfect each of them are. I invite you to make yourself a cup of tea (or pour yourself a generous glass of wine - go on, you deserve it) and cosy up, because I'm about to embark on a series of mini-stories that will reveal some of my innermost thoughts. I can't promise that I'm going to stay on track, nor can I guarantee that I'm going to come full circle with this discussion. I'm not even sure if I'm going to draw any meaningful conclusions from my ramblings (sorry in advance). All I hope is that somewhere within them, you might be able to find a part of yourself. Chapter One: Education During my years at school, I constantly imagined what I'd be doing as an adult. Geography class (and extra-curricular activity playing the Sims) inspired thoughts of becoming a city planner. Trawling around the career department, however, did little to encourage this aspiration further. I remember feeling overwhelmed by the university prospectuses presented to me and the number of options for study outlined in each of them. Naturally, I was a little scared of making the wrong choice. What if I hated city planning, then what would I do? When push came to shove, I followed my gut instinct (something that hasn't failed me yet). I didn't know much about what the world had to offer, but I was a wordsmith who loved English and all it encompassed. University certainly wasn't my only option but my desire for continued learning certainly steered me in the direction of higher education. I applied for a Bachelor of Arts and a Bachelor of Communications. Accepted into both, I selected the one that I thought best reflected my thirst for knowledge and need for diversity. With the power to pick and choose my subjects, the Arts degree was easily my top choice. Through the course of my studies, I was able create an educational experience that was uniquely my own. My time at university flew by, and soon enough, I was donning my graduation get-up and walking across a stage in front of thousands to collect that hard-earned piece of paper. Two years later, I'm still filled with elation and pride when I reflect on that moment. Sure, I sometimes wonder if I should've studied something that offered me a more direct outcome, or secured some sort of career path. An Arts degree doesn't exactly set you up for a specific job, but then again, I find it hard to imagine myself sticking to one thing, forever. I've never really viewed myself as a one-trick pony. I think I'm more like a racehorse that's ready to bolt out of the next open gate and go for gold. Even though Arts students have historically received a bit of stick for choosing a less traditional path, not one part of me regrets studying English, or any other subject I took at university for that matter (would you believe me if I told you I took Politics for a semester?). I didn't want to be a doctor, or a lawyer, or an engineer. I couldn't imagine studying something that might dictate my future. If anything, the flexible nature of my degree has opened my mind to the vast range of opportunities available to me through the skills that I've developed. Perhaps I'll become an English teacher and go on to make a difference in the education of others. Maybe I'll be a travel writer, trotting the globe and publishing my experiences for all and sundry to read. I might find myself working in public relations where I'll be able to channel my abilities as a communications professional. Who knows, I could even start my own business (and you can be sure that I already have an idea or two for this). Whether or not further education is involved in my journey, I'm more driven than ever to find my 'dream job.' And when I do, I'll kick-ass at it. Chapter Two: Work I started working when I was sixteen. My dad helped me to get a job at a local restaurant. Earning minimum wage, I spent my evenings after school serving drinks, clearing plates, scrubbing tables, and every once in a while, I'd experience the joy of cleaning up some stranger's vomit (living the dream). It was typical 'first job' material, and most of the time, I loathed it. I was envious of my friends who worked in retail, enjoying the perks of discounted clothing, and not coming home smelling like food. Despite this, I found a silver-lining in hospitality. The shifts were busy and I rarely found myself feeling bored or unchallenged. At the end of the day, I was earning an income and my savings were blowing up (thanks to my parents who had control over my account at the time). Even when I finished school and started university, I vowed to continue working in order to gain a further sense of what it meant to be financially independent. Over the years, I've had a number of jobs. I was a waitress at a Mexican restaurant, a residential cleaner, and an English tutor for primary and secondary school students. Through each experience, I established connections with people, gained skills, and learnt something new about myself in the process. No matter what I found myself doing (whether I enjoyed it or not), I was consistently reminded of the things I was able to achieve simply from being employed. So often I've heard the phrase "don't live to work, but work to live." A growing awareness of this philosophy has allowed me to find contentment in any job I've worked it, even if it's classified as dead-end or temporary. There's no way in hell that I would've been seen gallivanting around Mexico last year if I hadn't been working to save my ass off. While I'm well aware that my current job isn't my dream gig, I'm grateful for the work-life balance that it has offered. There are worse things in life than finishing work by 3pm or being surrounded cute animals all day. Even on the days that aren't so great, the smallest things can make the biggest difference. Seeing clients light up when I recognise them, or having someone express gratitude when I offer advice or empathy is enough to make me feel as though my job is important. I'm not worried about what I'll end up doing next, so long as I feel that my work is valuable and I'm able to continue doing the things I love in my own time as a result. Chapter Three: Dating I wasn't all that fussed about boys as a teen. Sometimes it felt like every girl was obsessed with them except me. Dating just wasn't something I was into. I tried on a couple of occasions, but all attempts seemed foreign and I would resort to using the compassionately worded alternative of "yeah, nah" to bring whatever situation I found myself in to an end. University was a bit of a different ball game. Having come from an all-girls school meant that I was more interested in being involved with the opposite sex than ever before. With new-found confidence, I indulged in a few short-lived romances before I met my then-boyfriend. Unfortunately, our relationship ended in similar fashion to the Titanic (because it was an absolute disaster). The image of the person I was so madly in love with was tarnished, and soon enough, I was single and back to the old drawing board. I threw myself back into the dating pool after my break-up to continue on with my quest for love (or at least to find a body to spoon). Such varied dating experiences provided invaluable knowledge, and in many respects, affirmed what qualities I'm seeking for in my 'special someone.' In saying that, I don't think it's wise to classify your type, or stick strictly to your mental checklist when considering your ideal partner. If recent experiences have taught me anything, it's that love can be found in the most unlikely of places with someone you least expect. My friends would probably say that I'm not one to fall in love quickly. While I find the idea of being swept off my feet rather charming, the truth is, it's not all that simple. Attraction is essential to sparking initial interest, of course, but it certainly takes more than that to win me over. The idea of commitment isn't an issue, nor am I longer afraid of being vulnerable. If anything, it's the allowance of time that's an obstacle. I simply want to get to know the person I'm with before deciding whether or not I see them as a part of my future. I mean, if you like someone enough and see a great deal of potential in them, then what's the rush to dive head-first into a relationship? Good things take time, right? Don't get me wrong, I enjoy being single. I relish in the fact that I can just be myself without trying to please anyone. Having said that, I'm not closed off to the idea of exploring the possibilities that dating offers either. In fact, I think it'd be great to have someone to join me on my adventures. Anything from taking a weekend road trip (car singing and dancing en route included), to going on a nature hike, or even just cooking dinner and watching TV. Whoever this person is, they're going to have to be pretty exceptional to change my current status. Chapter Four: Family and Friends If you're still reading, thanks for hanging in there. I'll keep this next section short and sweet, because if there's one thing I can't fault in my life, it's all the wonderful people I'm surrounded by. I feel incredibly blessed to come from a stable family. I'm aware that that's not necessarily the case for everyone, especially in this modern age. The love from my parents and younger brother is unconditional and I couldn't ask for a better support network. Over the years, friends have come and gone. As you grow up, everyone embarks on a new journey that takes them in different directions. I couldn't even tell you what some of my former BFF's are doing now (or where they are for that matter). Some of my closest friends from school are still around. Even if I don't get to see them as often as I'd like to, whenever we do get the chance to catch up, it's as if no time has passed at all. A part of me feels at home in their presence. As an adult, you become more selective about the people you associate with, and inevitably, you end up forming connections with those who add value to your life. My friends are some of the best people I know (no bias). They're the ones who I feel comfortable confiding in, who know my dreams and fears, and they're also a hell of a lot of fun to be around. We've enjoyed some wild adventures together, but equally, we can just sit down together with a glass of wine and be content in each other's company. It's friendship in it's purest form. I couldn't have rounded off this post without mentioning these great humans. After all, they're the ones who have helped me to navigate the challenges posed above. To Conclude: I'm not exactly sure what point, or points I've been trying to get across in this blog. I guess I'm just over putting pressure on myself to produce posts that are consistently articulate and profound that I wanted to give my brain a break and let my fingers do the talking for a change. No matter how much time and energy we put into something, no matter how passionate we are about it, it's never going to be entirely perfect. And that's okay, because it's not meant to be. I often reflect on aspects of my life and wonder where I might be if I had done things differently. What would I have studied? Where would I be working? Who could I be dating? The truth is, we're the writers of our own stories, and our choices will play a large part in determining what happens in each of the chapters. No matter how imperfect the journey might seem, we need to have faith that the decisions we make are the right ones, and that eventually, we'll end up right where we're supposed to be, happily.
3 Comments
Four months into 2017 and the not-so-new year has already seen its fair share of beginnings and ends, twists and turns. I’ve dealt with heartache, stepped into a gym for the first time (gasp), booked a trip to Europe, and watched friends and family embark on new journeys, leaving me to ponder what the future might bring for them and me. Thinking ahead has also encouraged me to reflect on what has already happened so far and how certain events have lead me to be where I am at this exact moment.
In March I left behind my beloved flat in Orakei which had been my home for six months. A week or so before moving day, I removed every personal detail that I had added to my room when I originally moved in. The built-in shelves that were filled with some of my favourite books, knick-knacks and travel souvenirs became a practical solution to storing boxes that contained the contents of my life. With each item I packed away, my room started looking less and less like mine, and exemplified how I felt about what was happening: strangely empty. I had taken the last room available when I moved in. I couldn't complain; it was my favourite one in the house, with peachy-pink wallpaper and an endless supply of sunlight streaming through the window. While I was in the process of decorating, I decided to string some fairy-lights above my bed (just like every other 20-something female). I kind of liked the idea of falling asleep with these teeny-tiny bulbs twinkling above my head; maybe some part of me hoped they would inspire me to dream. Whenever I looked up, it felt like I was gazing upon a sky full of stars. Returning to my room and unwinding after a long day became something to look forward to. For a while, some of my nights were spent curled up next to my then special someone after binging on Netflix and laughing to the point of exhaustion. Eventually, the extra space in my bed that was once filled became vacant. In sharp contrast, my room was engulfed by silence at night and I was left to mull over my thoughts until my eyes grew tired. This "me time" was something I came to value while I was flatting. Too often have I underestimated the power of having a moment that is mine and mine alone. When I had the house to myself, I could turn up my music as loud as I wanted and dance around like mad, or write and allow my thoughts to transpire on paper without disruption. I like socialising with friends as much as the next person, but I sure cherish those moments of solace to think, plan and dream, freely. There are a number of little things that I miss about my flat. I miss dangling my legs out of my window while sitting comfortably on the wide ledge reading a book, talking on the phone for hours with friends, or simply watching the tui's rustle around in the fruit trees. I miss our garish kitchen with the orange bench top that was often cluttered with dirty dishes and constantly being invaded by an oversized puppy scavenging for morsels. I miss seeing the view along Tamaki Drive on the drive home from a stressful day on a sunny afternoon. Most of all, I miss coming back to a home where I'm surrounded by friends and having a place that really feels like my own. In such a short space of time that house and the experience of flatting in its entirety facilitated the creation of countless memories. It was a place where I laughed with friends, sought sanctuary when I felt sad or overwhelmed and learnt all sorts of things that won't soon be forgotten. After all, it wasn't always easy living with three other people and a growing German Shepherd puppy while attempting to assume the role of a fully-capable, independent young adult. It's pretty remarkable how attached we become to the little things that to anyone else would otherwise be regarded as ordinary. That being said, it doesn’t make it much easier to say goodbye to them. No matter how much you’re able to prepare, endings, whatever the situation may be, can be daunting. Feelings of nostalgia creep in making you wish you could stop time, just so you can hold onto those moments for a bit longer. We then let go of what is familiar, what is comfortable, in order to delve into our next chapter, the details of which at that point in time are largely unknown. It's perfectly normal to feel nostalgic. In fact, I think it's something we should embrace when reflecting on the past, for it is the knowledge of our experiences that prepare us for our next venture. I’ve never thought of change negatively. I rarely find myself living in the past; I try to focus on what's current and imagine the possibilities that only the act of looking towards the future bring. How can we move ahead in life if we keep wishing we were in a different time and place that has already passed by? I feel confident that where I am now is where I'm meant to be, currently. Although I can't say that I know what's next with absolute certainty, I do trust that the decisions I've made, and the things that have happened so far have brought me here for a reason. With each day that passes, I'm slowly starting to see the bigger picture that is being constructed in the puzzle that is my life. Not knowing exactly what the next piece will reveal doesn't concern me; it only adds to the excitement and anticipation of what's to come. |
B is:A 26-year-old tea drinking writer of words trying to find her place in the world.
Archives
April 2020
|