Public Transport - Busted

Once upon a time, a trip on the bus was my idea of a good time. It was something of a treat. Perhaps because it usually meant going somewhere awesome, like school camp!

Going on the bus meant not having to wear a seatbelt, which to my un-rebellious ten-year-old-self, was the epitome of being cool. I was never fortunate enough to have a space on the back seat, that was always wordlessly reserved for the "popular kids". I was just happy to have a pal next to me who I could share my packed lunch with. After we fought for the window seat of course.

Now though, like so many childhood experiences, bus trips seem to have lost their glorious appeal. Buses in the real world are nothing short of horrendous. An unfortunate, but necessary experience that comes alongside being a university student.

Buses almost NEVER arrive at the preconceived time. They trick you into believing they will be, with their strict timetables and 'live-time' displays. Yet nine times out of ten, I find myself waiting for an overdue bus. (In the shack they call a bus shelter, yet it fails to shield anyone from the pouring rain) Or else running to catch it as it cruises by, ahead of schedule.

In the case of the latter, I find myself running like a madwoman, arms flailing, to arrive on board sweaty and puffing. Smiling at the driver is rarely greeted with a warm welcome. Instead they barely make eye contact, and start driving off before I even come close to sitting down! With a jolt, I make my unsteady way to the nearest vacant seat, probably unknowingly molesting people with my bulky handbag.

If the bus is full, it's even worse. All the good poles are always taken, people cling to them like they're actual gold, and glare when you get close. Like overly territorial dogs.

Somehow, I always end up squashed against the back door. Then I worry because the peeling sticker above my head says "please do not stand in the doorway". And I have to keep sucking in, so that people can squeeze past me into the freedom of the outside world.  It's all very stressful.

My palms are sweating so much by this point that I struggle to hold my grip. Buses have only two temperatures. Sweltering to the point where you feel as though you're drowning in other people's sweat, OR so chilly that you end up looking enviously at the creepy guy in the trench coat.

Anyway, it's about now that I start longing for the plush upholstery and air conditioning that personal automobiles offer. Seatbelts too. Being strapped in is no longer a hindrance in my mind, more like a privilege.

When I get off I feel like every muscle in my body's had a workout. What with holding myself so tensely, trying not to knock a stranger as the bus jostles me around unceremoniously.

Even if you are lucky enough to get a seat, the journey is still generally an uncomfortable one. You still get thrown about in your seatbelt-less seat.

I always consider it a delight if I last the entire ride without having to sit next to somebody. But more often than not, despite keeping my head down and praying for them to sit elsewhere, I end up sharing my personal space with an undesirable stranger. Different offenses include, bad breath, body odour and unnecessarily heavy breathing.

Then there are those commuters who are simply too large for the bus seats, so you end up either squished against the grimy window, or sharing a cosy snuggle with the newcomer.

Perhaps the worst of all though, are ones who are just dying for good friendly chat. You can spot them as soon as they board the bus. Overly enthusiastic, they scan the passengers, looking for victims. Then they sit down and stare at you for a while, which you sense so therefore offer a polite smile. Big mistake. You've now welcomed the conversation. Your new companion will want to know your life story, and in turn, subject you to theirs. I'm sorry, but I don't have room in my pessimistic life for this type of mindless banter. Then I worry, perhaps I shouldn't be so close-minded and selfish. But now is not the time for deep personal reflection.

Of course, there are those people who place their bag on the vacant seat next to them, clearly trying to repel any seat-seeking people. Nothing says "piss off" more clearly. But I always feel bad doing that. Maybe because one day I left my backpack beside me, and the bus filled up without my knowledge. Next thing I knew, a middle-aged woman was throwing my bag (laden with books, ouch) at my head because I was clogging up the only vacant seat. She was less than impressed. Even more so when I had to clamber over her to exit at my stop. Sorry lady. But needless to say, I am now a bag-on-lap kind of passenger.

You may be thinking, if I hate it so much, why do it? Why not just travel in style and comfort behind the wheel of a car? Well, for one thing, my falling-apart Mitsubishi is far from being stylish. And secondly, paying for parking is a luxury I can't afford to splurge on.

There is admittedly something quite nice about getting somewhere without having to worry about traffic. Plus there's never a dull moment when it comes to the daily commute, evidently.

StuDYING

It's that time of year again. The semester is coming to an end, the assignments are piling up. You feel as though your brain might explode if you try and feed it any more information.Well, in my experience anyway.

We cruise through the year and then bam, pressure is on. Everything is due at once. My diary becomes a scribble of hurried notes and desperate reminders. I spend time reflecting on my bad organisation skills, when I know I should be doing something productive instead.

As every student knows, mastering the art of procrastination is easy. Much simpler in fact than writing the assignment in question. I for one, find that when I have an assignment due, my house is spotless. The washing is folded, the dishwasher's unloaded, because I'd rather do these mundane tasks than actually sit down and write an essay. I even tell myself it's important. "It's essential that I clean out my wardrobe, I've been meaning to for ages" and "while I'm at it, I should really alphabetize the DVDs".

Avoidance tactics, they're everywhere. "I really should spend some time with my cat, I've been neglecting him lately". All the excuses come out. And taking a nap is suddenly the most appealing thing in the world. (Notice how the word studying ends in dying, coincidence? I think not). Anyway, fact is we will do anything to prevent the inevitable study time.

Nothing seems urgent until it's the last minute and you haven't started planning/researching/writing. Then the panic sets in. You try and urge your brain to concentrate, but it does the opposite. It's sunny outside, the birds are singing, it's all too much. Closing the curtains works temporarily, but never for long.

I find myself wandering to the fridge every few minutes, hoping some delicious food will magically appear, but it never does. Motivation doesn't come easy. Distraction however, hangs around bugging you relentlessly until you give in.

Generally, as the hand-in date creeps closer, the desperation becomes a little worrisome. At this point I have to shut myself away somewhere silent, make sure my phone is nowhere in sight, and force myself to write.

It is a great feeling though, you know the one I mean. When you finally come to the end of an essay or whatever else it may be. Knowing it's all completed and you no longer have to think about it. You breathe a sigh of relief, massage your stiff neck and visualize your freedom. This is of course assuming you've remembered to include your APA-approved reference list. That unforgiving bastard of a task that always catches you out. Wouldn't want to lose points because you forgot to include a page number. Honestly, who makes these rules! Surely it's obvious that I just wrote some ramble then added a few quotes in afterwards... Oh dear, have I revealed too much?

It is brilliant though, when all your assignments are handed in. The only deadlines you have to worry about are those that appear on your social calendar. It's incredible how quickly one's body can slip into holiday mode.

I always find that when I'm not studying, I'm not doing much else either. Sure I go to work for a few hours here and there, but sadly the gym becomes like some faraway land. Much too difficult to access. Instead I favor spots like, my bed, the couch, and the various homes of my friends.

It's not exactly easy, to fill in four months of endless leisure time. I mean, there's only so many times you can watch Friends from start to finish. And with limited income, the world isn't exactly your "oyster".
You won't catch me complaining though. Being a student may have its ups and downs. Extreme tension versus complete serenity. But it sure beats the daily slog of that real world we're all desperately avoiding.

Women are from Venus...

The theory of "Women are from Venus, Men are from Mars", sure is a preposterous one. To think that we come from different planets seems far-fetched and unfathomable. Yet there's definitely an element of truth to it, when we consider how different we are from one another. In today's colorful world of new ideals and constant developments, men and women remain true opposites in almost every way.

Let's face it, girls are crazy. See guys, I can admit it. And ladies, it's not a betrayal it's just another element of self-acceptance and reality. I've recently come to terms with the fact that my female hormone-driven brain can sometimes be irrational. In particular when it comes to encounters with the opposite sex. Now, I'm not trying to generalize women too much, because I know each one is special and different in multiple ways blah blah, but surely you understand when I say there's moments you wonder "WHAT was I thinking, getting so worked up about that?" I often look back on a situation and question how I became so demonic and completely possessed by the need to be right. For example, having a rage fit about a towel left on the bathroom floor... Or picking a fight to make a point that will be irrelevant in five minutes. "YOU didn't reply to my text today, I suppose you were tooooo busy to spare a moment to answer me?!". Ridiculous.

 I'm not sure what's worse, the all-consuming anger, or the " I'm-feeling-sorry-for-myself-why-don't-you-love-me" tearful insecurities that also surface sometimes. (This usually goes hand-in-hand with becoming a chocolate-eating machine, and needing a hot water bottle because it's that cursed time of the month when everything about being a woman is unfair). We know that we don't need to hear "I love you" every day for it to be true, and we certainly don't need to dish out the silent treatment because our man failed to say the right thing. Yet these trivial things get over-analysed and eat away at our delicate brains until we emerge as an unrecognizable raging monster full of anguish. Okay maybe that's a little bit exaggerated. But seriously, we've all been there. Sometimes we may not admit it, but we become aware that we were perhaps being a little silly, even if it's too late to admit it. Don't take it too hard, just embrace the fact that a little craziness lives in all of us. And try not blame the testosterone, it's not his fault.

It can be frustrating I know. Standing there practically overflowing with indescribable emotion, while in front of us stands a male who appears to be feeling nothing at all. Blank and unreadable. Maybe we need to be enlightened, but men just seem to lack that ability to share. There are times when we all wish we were psychic. Women are just better communicators I think (no offense gentlemen). We are fond of talking, that much is obvious, so when we provoke you it's most likely we are just trying to get a reaction and spark a revealing conversation with you. While at the same time expecting you to accurately gauge our unspoken feelings. It rarely works though, unsurprisingly, and that's when the frustration rears its ugly head. A classic situation -
Boy: What's wrong?
Girl: ...Nothing
Boy carries on as if all is merry, girl rages a silent monologue along  the lines of obviously something is wrong you you ignorant a**hole, and if you had any brains you would realize and apologize! 
See, irrational. However, at the time we are fueled by self-righteousness and resent. It pains me to admit this. I'm mildly embarrassed that I'm familiar with occurrences like this one, but it's all humorous in the scheme of things. I realize my ramblings appear to be more about girls and their male-related insecurities, rather than the actual differences between the two. But I am completely blank in regards to the fundamentals of the male brain (which I guess is kind of the point).  

I could go on all day about the differences between men and women, from obvious things like appearance and interests, to the deep psychological variations. But maybe we need to stop trying to make sense of it, and just accept the fact that we will never quite understand each other. Enjoy the mystery, (easier said than done I know), because nobody likes a predictable life. Instead of formulating our own ideas of how we should behave towards each other, let's just be unique in our differences. And if that loony hormone-driven voice in your head starts to speak up girls, just try your best to ignore her.  Accept men for what they are (something akin to an alien race) and vice-versa. No expectations = no disappointment. As if this will ever happen. Ha! Worth a try though, right? The question of understanding the opposite sex is one that will linger forever, and probably never be fully answered. I'm not saying give up on the hope for a functional relationship, maybe just live with the reality that we're never going to be mind-readers.

Rock and Roll

I’ve always been something of a risk taker. Despite being described as quiet and reserved in most situations, I was always fearless when it came to being adventurous. Always going higher and farther than others would even think to attempt. My friends looked on in awe, and my mother was continuously sent into fits of worry. I left no tree unclimbed, no rock unexplored, and even as I grew older and wiser, my attitude didn’t really change. Until one day, I overestimated myself.

As the boat slowed and we approached the island, I couldn’t help but notice the rock formations, majestic and enticing against the clear blue sky. I was practically itching to get ashore and start exploring. But that wasn’t what we’d come for. However, before long I got tired of baiting hooks and casting lines with no results. Fishing proved monotonous when the most exciting catch was a lump of seaweed.

                “I’m just going to wander ‘round the island”, I called to the boys, abandoning my rod and doing up my jacket.

                “Okay but don’t do anything stupid!”

I couldn’t help but smile at Sam. I knew he worried about me. I also knew that he just loved to say ‘I told you so’. It’s not like I’m gonna fall, Gosh, I thought stubbornly to myself.

Now, as I stood atop a large outcrop of rocks, I felt a mixture of exhilaration and serenity. I looked out at the waves, shielding my eyes from the mid-afternoon sun. Climbing came naturally to me, and up here on the cliff I almost felt at home. I’d stripped off my jacket now, my back damp with perspiration, my hands raw from the surface of the rocks. But it felt good. To my left was an array of wide, flat boulders. Smooth and welcoming. I was tempted to lay down for a pleasant afternoon snooze.  But to my right lay more enticing path. Uneven and half hidden in shadow. I always loved a challenge.

When climbing, I had this rule that three out of four limbs must always be secure. That way it was almost impossible to lose my balance.  Here though, I could tell by looking, that to make it across the ledge before me, I’d have to break that rule.

                “Just this once”, I murmured aloud to myself.

Securing my foot, I braced myself to push up and grab the rock just above me. In the split second before I fell, I knew something wasn’t right. I heard the crack as the rock gave way, felt the unwelcome pull of gravity beneath me. And then there was nothing I could do. How long I tumbled for I’ll never be quite sure. I tucked my arms close to my body and gritted my teeth, hoping it would stop before I met the oyster-covered rocks near the water. Finally, I came to a halt, flat on my back on a bed of small rock fragments.

Trembling from head to toe I got gingerly to my feet. After testing each of my limbs I felt a surge of relief, I’d expected broken bones. My exposed skin felt raw all over. My bare arms grated and shredded like cheese. The sky, close enough to touch just moments before, was now a distant patch of light above my head. Only a slither of blue visible between the jagged outcrops.

My stomach gave a jolt as a drop of blood splashed onto the toe of my shoe. The realisation that it had come from my head was enough to engulf me in shivers once more. Only one thought registered clearly. I must get back to the others. At that point there was no pain, only survival instinct and adrenaline urging me forward. I made it back to the spot surprisingly quickly, stunned to see them still engrossed in their fishing. Completely oblivious.

                “Don’t be alarmed but… I think I fell”, I managed with a weak laugh.

The boys’ smiles vanished as they took in my blood-stained appearance, and immediately rushed to my aid. I collapsed into their arms, and only then did the tears start to flow. Not a single ‘I told you so’ was uttered.

Digital Domination

The digital age is upon us people, that much is obvious. And although it pains me to say so, it's here to stay. The internet has most certainly changed the way we live, think, and communicate. We can shop without moving, see people who are worlds away, we can even exist in parallel universes, as fictional characters! All through the use of some wires and a little glass box. We can do things that would have been thought laughably impossible a century ago. To think that the telephone was a revelation! Yet here we are. If it's true that humans never stop evolving, does that mean our children are destined to be square-eyed, arthritis-ridden and anti-social? I hope not. When I was young, my vision of the future was of flying cars and robots and jetpacks, I'm sure that's a pretty generic perception. Sadly though, my rationality now overpowers my imagination, and the apparent future is nothing but an endless network of computers and virtual amusement. It's quite a haunting thought. Negative too, I know. I should be ranting about the endless opportunities and the societal improvements the internet creates, but I just can't bring myself to do it.

You might be thinking "if she's such a hater, why post it on Blogger.com?" Well, you'd be right to question my motives. The thing is, I face an endless internal struggle. I want to hate the internet, this dominating, identity-stealing, laziness-creating presence, yet still I embrace it. Here I am writing this public slander, using the very means that I am criticising. And last night I purchased a new jacket online, rather than going to the shops. And yesterday I checked my Facebook a multitude of times, out of boredom and curiosity. My hypocrisy is conspicuous and embarrassing. I, along with the rest of the planet, have succumbed to the merciless claws of the World Wide Web. It is entirely understandable that the internet has become an asset and a way of life. Humans will always embrace the quickest, most convenient way of doing things, busy creatures that we are. And that's exactly what the internet provides, an alternative, a practically instant way of achieving the things we want to.

As I'm sure you’re aware, you can find ANYTHING on web. You search the most obscure word or concept, and you'll get results. Need instructions on the best nose-picking technique? Want to locate your nearest fellow stamp collector? It's a guarantee that someone out there has taken the time to post it online. The amount of information available at our fingertips is nothing less than overwhelming. Search the name of a popular celebrity, and Google will provide you with an average of 500 million results. 500 million! It borders on ridiculousness. That's more than a lifetime's worth of reading.

The fact that anybody can contribute information is I suppose what makes the internet so vast. Anyone can be a publisher or a critic or a superstar. If you have an opinion about anything, it's easy to make it known. You can even scope out people that share this opinion, be they down the road or across the ocean. It really is quite incredible. You can even do all this while remaining anonymous. The thing about that is, people get all brave when nobody can see their face. Things that they wouldn't dream of saying in a normal context get plastered on public forums or in comment boxes everywhere. People hide behind their keyboard, thinking they're bad-ass with their witty judgement and their derogatory messages. All you have to do is scroll down through the commentary on a YouTube video, and you'll find one or more of these ball-busting cyberpunks at work. But on the other end of the spectrum, there's the incentive that if you post something, you'll receive an overwhelming amount of positive comments, riddled with exclamation marks, from complete strangers. That's bound to be an ego boost. It's no wonder everyone's jumping on the bandwagon.

It works the same way for things like blogs for example. I'm currently making my thoughts publicly accessible. I'll pretend that I'm not phased by people's reactions sure, but in reality, I'll be disappointed if nobody reads it. The net fuels our primal need for constant approval, but provides justifications if those needs aren't met. It offers us an escape route per se, a delete button. However, even if our opinions are sent to live eternally and invisibly in cyberspace, they're not erased from our minds. We are undeniably human after all. It's sad to think that some words appearing on a screen can alter our sense of acceptance though.

We've been given the opportunity to broadcast ourselves, and we've reached out and grabbed it with both hands. It's almost as if nothing is private anymore. We publicise photos and locations. God, we even publicise what we're eating for dinner. As if people are interested. But it would seem that they are. 64% of all New Zealanders belong to some type of social networking site, Facebook being the obvious majority. This mass participation means that people are constantly in contact. People's lives have lost any element of mystery whatsoever. There's no such thing as a "catch up", if you've been avidly following your friends' Facebook updates. You could argue that this is a positive development, it's nice to know what's going on right?! Except when it comes to the obsessive "stalking" of people we barely know, just to satisfy our nosy needs. Or having to endure that one friend who posts unnecessary statuses 6 times daily.

I guess like any debate, there are good sides and bad sides. I'm not about to get on my high horse and say that the internet should be discontinued (as if I have that power). Despite making us lazy and altering our natural lifestyles, I agree that the internet is highly beneficial. For a lot of us, our entire being revolves around internet-based activities. And as much as I love to resent it, I sure as hell couldn't live without it. I often fantasise about how life would be, had I been born in the 1800s, when the word "internet" existed in nobody's vocabulary. Or if I went to Hogwarts, where magic and owls compensate for technology. But this is nothing more than fruitless escapism, because I am obviously a 21st century human being, and a life without showers and computers is unfathomable. Perhaps my apparent dislike for web technology stems from the fact that I don't embrace change very well. I still prefer to meet people face to face. I'd rather play a board game than play Angry Birds. And the extinction of books (and I mean paperbacks NOT eBooks obviously), is something that genuinely frightens me.

Having said all this, I'm learning to recognise that boycotting the internet is not going to do me any favours. All it will do is make me feel isolated and inferior. Its existence was obviously born out of the human need to communicate, something that existed long before computers and satellites and electricity. We've just gotten wiser over time, and learned that there are more advanced ways to make contact. So although the internet can be used as a weapon and a shield, it's also a priceless tool and a noticeable advancement of human achievement. Admittedly, it's nice be able to stay in touch with far away friends, to be able to access things instantly and share things far and wide. It seems that my negative attitude is again likely to be thwarted by majority and logic. I’m sure there's other people like me who fear the dominance of this cyber companionship, but evolution is inevitable, and even if it's daunting, we minions can't prevent it. So the only option is for us to just go with it, which I will endeavour to achieve without complaint.

An Ode to Childhood

When we are children, everything is more colourful. Everything is bigger and louder and more exciting. The things we experience are all shiny and brand new, and our brains are like sponges, never bored, always craving information. It's not healthy to live in the past, I know that. But there's no harm in a little reminiscing. It's not that I'm not excited about what's still to come, because I am. However, I want to recall the feeling of utter freedom that comes only with being a child. That innocence and naivety that makes the world look like a playground. That serenity that can be achieved with a simple cuddle. When we are children we are carefree by nature, because there genuinely isn't anything worth worrying about. There is no pressure to be successful, unless it's in regards to a game of Monopoly. No need to impress people, unless there's a chance they'll give you a lolly.

Admittedly, I am a little reluctant to grow up. Sure, I can be mature when it matters. But does maturity mean forfeiting the things that excite me? Does it mean that I have to like gardening as opposed to climbing trees? Favour watching the news over watching The Lion King for example? And spend my Saturdays doing housework, rather than playing with my friends? Because that all sounds monstrous. No matter how old I am. When I was a teenager, I didn't feel I was missing out on anything, I was eager to be treated like an adult. Only now, that I have experienced the big wide world, have I come to the realisation that our childhood years are some of the greatest. If we didn't want to walk, we could be carried. We didn't have to decide what to do with our lives, because we didn't look past getting to school.  Tricky decisions like what to eat for dinner, and which socks to wear, were all made for us. Any problem could most likely be solved with a tasty treat or a kind word.

When you're a child you can be anything you want to be. A princess or a knight, an astronaut, a popstar. Endless possibilities, without the hindering knowledge of them being unlikely. The first thing I can remember wanting to be was a postie.  Riding a bicycle all day and delivering peoples' letters sounded delightful. I then jumped about between teacher, zookeeper, florist and detective, truly believing that I could be all these things. Perhaps I could have been, I'll never know. The point is, my glorious childhood brain imagined it, therefore I saw some truth in it. I didn't pick apart the negatives, like I would with anything nowadays. I didn't think about the salary or the hours or the hard work. Only the enjoyment. That's the power of a child's innocence.

Kids can get away with anything. They say something that would generally be incriminating and rude, but instead it's adorable. I would love to be able to tell people outright that they're annoying, but that just isn't acceptable from the lips of an adult. Children can ask endless questions, and although we may be exasperated, we will still continue answering them. A public tantrum will always be forgiven. Tears are greeted with sympathy, no matter how insignificant the problem is.

Special occasions are always more exhilarating when you're young too. Christmas is about new toys and pretty decorations and Santa Claus. Not about eating too much food, and drinking the day away, and cursing the hideous carols that someone insisted on playing. Birthdays are your special day where you dominate everyone's attention and there is an abundance of presents. You believe you're the most special kid in the world. Just like you believe that a giant bunny comes to your house bearing chocolate. And that a magical fairy is wiling to pay you for your grotty old tooth. A child can believe their life is a fairy tale, without any consequences. A adult living in dreamland is a concern, for a kid on the other hand, it's the definition of normality.

The days of childhood are filled with carefree enjoyment, endless fantasies and minimal complications. I envy my 10-year-old self.  I long for those days, the fun and the craziness and the chance to dream. But at the same time, I have independence, I still have new experiences every day and a long life stretching out before me. So although the lighthearted times may be seemingly behind me, I still have fun. I still have laughter, friends, and an imagination. Childish amusement is something to be embraced rather than evaded. To be young at heart is to have the best of both worlds. Let us look ahead to the incredible days we will encounter, and pay tribute to the ones we once had, never forgetting that dreams last forever. And things are never quite as bad as they seem.

Social Pressure

The human brain is a wonderful and terrible thing. Yes, it's phenomenal the way we homo sapiens think. We have emotions, imagination and a vast range of knowledge all packed into a relatively small, fleshy blob. Remarkable. Yet, there are times when I wistfully think about how simple life would be if I had the brain of say, a butterfly. Or the brain of my cat, thinking only of where I might find the next patch of sun. Because with the human brain, comes all the complications of an advanced mind. The desire to know what the future holds. The fruitless ponderings about what life really means. Or the wondering about what's happening in other people's minds. I often wish there WASN'T so much room in my brain to fill with these trivial things.

You see, I am the kind of person who will take every situation, and over think it. I will find things to worry about, even when worrisome things don't exist. I will lose sleep over imaginary happenings. It's exhausting, it really is. Inventing scenarios in my head, and convincing myself that they will unfold. Perhaps I'm mildly schizophrenic. I may just be a chronic worry-wart. Either way I know it's pointless, but I can't prevent it. I have an ever-present fear that I'm not performing as I should be, or that I'm upsetting or offending people. I secretly hope I'm not alone in this mindset, that there are others who suffer this same insanity. But really, this is not the way the most advanced minds on the planet should function! Constantly pressuring ourselves to be acceptably "normal".

I wish I could say I'm someone who is oblivious to what other people think. The freedom must be extraordinary. Doing whatever you please, as it suits you. I know what you're thinking, you should live like that anyway! Who cares! If only it were that simple. I ask myself questions like, "I bought this 2 years ago, can I still wear it?" or "Will people think I'm rude if I don't go?" As humans, the approval of our peers is essential to our well-being. Even though we will defensively deny it over and over. We will tell ourselves we are happy with our decisions. But in reality if there's nobody to support us, we only continue justifying things because we feel we have a point to prove. So we say "screw them, I am going to go ahead with this idiotic endeavor because I know I am right". But then comes the little niggling in our brains, the questioning of one's motives. "Maybe they aaaare right, maybe it is a waste of time". Etc etc. And the need for approval defeats us. Social pressure rears its ugly head. Sometimes, we indulge in hobbies, not for the enjoyment but for the the label they'll give us. Or we spend hours in the morning fretting over which outfit is more flattering. Just admit it. Sadly, even the approval of strangers can alter our sense of comfort. A stare is enough to make us assume they're judging us. Or if they ignore us, we're either too ugly to be worthy of eye contact, or they're just rude.This is complete madness of course, we know it's not even true yet our minds tell us that it could be, therefore its a  plausible cause for discomfort.

Intertwined with all this feeble uneasiness, there is also the pressure to live up to life's expectations.  We're paranoid about having a reputable job. Paranoid that we will not be married by a certain age. We want to live up to all those cliches that we associate with a happy and successful lifestyle. A loving husband, a nice house, multiple well-behaved children. Things that we can be proud of. I don't know who got to decide that this is the way life should be. Oh wait, I do know, it's called Society. Society rules the subconscious minds of us all. We feel like we're letting ourselves down if we don't comply with the socially acceptable way of doing things. We do not what we want to do, but what the people around us want to see. Sometimes I want to just throw all that out the window. I want to climb a tree, never mind the fact that I'm an adult and we're in a public park. I want to buy a farm with pigs and live there, writing all day, in among my passionfruit vines. Who cares about a real job! But I never would, because of the social burden, and the label it might give me. Okay, so maybe that's a little over the top. I do have ambitions. But I want them to be fueled by desire, not by social pressure.

So the challenge is this. I want my brain to stop arguing with itself every day, over what I should and shouldn't do. I want to exterminate the doubt. Do things based on my own opinion, and not fret about what other people might think or assume. So far I've made a goal to be happy about everything, and a goal to continue welcoming love. This will be the hardest one yet. But if we all did it, there would be a lot more people in the world with smiles on their faces.  If you can truthfully say you aren't a victim of social pressure, then admire you more than you'll ever know. As for the rest of us, if you dream of living a spontaneous, rootless life, do it. Make a crazy investment that you will undoubtedly regret later on down the track. If it's a thrill for a moment or two, then it's worth it. If your goal is to have a husband and a house and a perfect family, go for it. But do it because you want to, not because it's expected. My fellow first-world-worriers, free your minds of social pressure, and perhaps we'll accomplish something more than just a daily headache.

Love Is All Around

In light of my recent ramble about happiness, I discovered that despite my seemingly negative outlook on life,    and my inability to be tactfully expressive, I am in fact something of a hopeless romantic. That's right, I am in love with love. Perhaps it's because I recently had the pleasure of attending a fairy tale wedding. Or maybe it's just that I have too much time to think about irrelevant things, being currently absent from studying. Anyway, my insomnia last night (the best ideas always come when sleep doesn't) led me to thinking about just how important I consider love to be. Love is great. Why else would it be the topic of all the world's greatest literature? If happiness were a car, love would be like the petrol you need to keep it going. Or if happiness were hokey pokey, love would be the chocolate that covers it, making it all the more fantastic. I'm just a sucker for love. I'm like Carrie Bradshaw, only minus the big hair and the hot bod. And the Manhattan apartment. And the Gucci and Chanel. Okay so I'm nothing like Carrie, enough with the wishful thinking. I'm just an ordinary person, with a lot of love to share.

If I were a cartoon character, I would be one of those big red lovehearts, with arms and legs and a face. Walking around making people love each other. Like cupid, except I'd be way cooler and I wouldn't be naked. My own heart is too big for my own good. I fall in love too easily. I stumbled awkwardly through my adolescence, foolishly believing I was genuinely in love with a multitude of males. There was probably a new crush-candidate for each month of my high school life.  Admittedly, most of them I just watched creepily from afar, always too scared to emit a single word while in their presence, but still somehow managing to make my feelings embarrassingly obvious. And more than once, I threw myself headfirst into relationships that were completely dysfunctional, thinking that love would undoubtedly see us through. Blind to everything negative. A lot has changed since then.

You would think that my being so full of love would mean that my heart is open to everyone. Not quite. I don't have love for the guy who shares his B.O with me on the bus. Nor for the people who jump the queue at the supermarket, and then pretend they're innocent. Also, love, when it's openly displayed, makes me horrendously uncomfortable. I am no fan of public displays of affection. Holding hands at the shops makes me mildly embarrassed. If people kiss, I want to yell at them to go home. Yes yes we all know you're his and he's yours. No need to bombard us with it. I've never really enjoyed big romantic gestures either. Perhaps I've just never had them directed at me, so I am unfamiliar with the fondness one is meant to feel. Having flowers delivered to work for example, that's nice, but may cause unwanted attention for people who wish to remain invisible. The thought of a public proposal makes me cringe, regardless of the fact that it's not at all likely in my near future. My own contradiction confuses me. I guess love is like anything, I like it when it's not thrust in my face.

Love, just like happiness, is a very heavy word. It builds hope, but also has the power to shatter it. It alters the way people think and act, sometimes substituting common sense for idiocy. Sometimes making us believe things that are so blindingly false that we shouldn't even be allowed to call ourselves humans. Because humans are smarter than that. They're not influenced by magnetic impulses right? Wrong. Love and attraction completely override all the rules of rationality. Is that a bad thing? I don't think so. Entertaining sure, when it's not you who is making a hopeless fool out of herself in the name of love.

So when it comes to love, where do we draw the line? It enriches our lives, yet we can't allow it to control them.We can't sacrifice everything for it, and we can't spend our lives searching for it, even though countless others before us have. If it's unrequited love, life is miserable. If only daisy petals really could decide for us. Loves me, loves me not. Settled, and we accept it graciously either way. Rather than having the heartbreak and the rejection and the moping. Even when it's consensual, it still drives people crazy.  But love also makes people kind. It makes people selfless, and open to more possibilities than they would otherwise recognize. Family love, friendly love, romantic love and passion. In this ever-changing, money-hungry world, love needs to be more dominant. I've been hurt, I've been lied to and walked all over. Yet I welcome love like I welcome sunshine and ice cream. I have a heart and I have a brain. I listen to them both. It may make me vulnerable, but it's the best way to be.

"WHEN WE'RE HUNGRY, LOVE WILL KEEP US ALIVE"

The Object of Happiness

Happiness is a word that poses endless questions. We all know it. We've all asked ourselves at one point or another "am I happy?". "Am I content with my life, or am I settling for something?".

So what is it really? More than just an emotion, that's for sure. Something that any human being, in any stage of their life, strives to achieve. 

From the moment we are born our sole focus is to create an environment in which we can be happy. We ponder it, we question it, and we reassure ourselves before questioning it again.

I am something of a negator when it comes to the big things in life. "Why would I want to study and get a degree, all it will do is put me in debt" and "Why should I strive to achieve when it's the no-hopers that get everything for free?". "Who says marriage is a good idea, in three years I might despise you!". "Children? You mean drooling, pooping, screaming machines..." 

Truth is, I am just so reluctant to grow up, because it means that I must make all these life-changing decisions, and being unhappy is a very real danger. Gone are the days when happiness was achieved with a lollipop, or a compliment from a teacher. 

I am now at the stage where I must create a happy LIFE for myself, rather than just temporary enjoyment. Scary stuff, huh?

So here is the situation. I am part-way through a degree that I am finding pleasantly interesting. I have a career in mind, but I also have the worry that I will be unable to acheive said career, and be left with some hideous monotonous job and a large loan to repay. 

I am in a relationship with a wonderful man, who supports me both financially and emotionally. I can see myself embarking on all the journeys life has to offer, hand in hand with him. But who's to say that he won't wake up tomorrow and decide he's had enough of me? 

What if... what if, one day I end up with nobody to love and no roof over my head? You see, happiness can trick you into a false sense of security. It pretends to be your friend until one day it favours some other lucky soul and you fall into the clutches of misery.

 Unhappiness is an ever-present fear. Surely I am not alone in this mindest.

In my short 22 years, I have (and I'm certain others have too) experienced uplifting delight , right the way down to soul-crushing dejection, and everything in between. But stangely enough, it's the positive things that stand out. Like the fact that I once toppled down a rocky cliff, yet all my bones remain unbroken. Positive right? Or the way the end of one relationship opened the door to another. 

Watch out, this is corny, but there IS a silver lining for everything. You just have to make the most of it. 

This morning, for some unbeknown reason, I had an epiphany. And my epiphany was this, why do we stress about being happy, when the means to achieve it are right in front of us? We need to learn to appreciate the little things we are thankful for, beacause these are the things that will never let us down. 

Instead of worrying about calories, add some more chocolate sauce, because you know you want to. Stop complaining that technology is taking over the world, and enjoy the fact that someone "liked" your photo. Be happy that there are no clouds in the sky, even if a storm is forecast for tomorrow. Don't worry that another birthday means another year older, just revel in the presence of cake and gifts! Instead of stressing about the big questions, just recognise all those little morsels of joy, they're what will really get you through life. Instead of saying "what have I achieved?", look forward to all the things that are still to come. 

Don't pretend it doesn't please you when you get a kiss on the cheek in the morning. Or when your cat greets you at the door after a hard day. These are the things we must learn to acknowledge. That way, happiness is a realistic, achievable goal.

My aim is to recognise all the things that put a smile on my face, be they small and trivial, or life-changing. Am I searching desperately for reassurance? Perhaps. But at least I know that I'm striving for something real, and enjoying it in the process. 

Perhaps that's what achieving happiness truly feels like. Perhaps.