This is How it Works

The time of half-hearted resolutions is on its way! The first few weeks of 2017 will be ushered in by people with grandiose ideas of self-improvement, and then will fade into a sense of resignation at our inability to make serious change for the rest of the year. Then, of course, the cycle will start again in the first week of 2018. A vicious cycle that only serves to solidify our own ideas of our capabilities, or lack thereof. As you have probably guessed, I don't like New Years Resolutions. They rarely ever stick, and they're usually about trivial things, like joining gyms and losing weight, or reading more and watching TV less, or putting more money aside. Of course, those are all nice enough ideas, they're just not anything I really care about with enough conviction to make a resolution. Back when I used to make them, my resolutions would be more about pushing through my anxiety, or rising above bullies, or wishing that my family was happier or wanting to feel better ...

So I already wrote a speech on this, but since I did that long before I created this blog, and because I'm not really done with this topic, I thought I would rewrite it and elaborate.  Teenagers get a lot of flak for being obsessed with pop culture, addicted to their phones, emotionally stunted… but the big one is antisocial. I've heard a slew of these phrases thrown at my generation and the generation above me, and some of them are true, but honestly, I don't think they're all as negative as we assume they are. Antisocial behaviour covers all of these things and more, but do these things give rise to antisocial behaviour, or is it the other way around? Honestly though, for most of us, I think we are mistakenly labelled anti-social when we are actually introverted, socially anxious, or just having a bad day. According to evidence collated by Beyond Blue, One in four Australians between the ages of 16 and 24 feel unhappy with their lives. One in six young Austra...

So, if you hadn't already noticed - I love movies and TV and books and music. More specifically - I LOVE A WELL EXECUTED STORY WITH BELIEVABLE CHARACTERS AND DEVELOPMENT. Ah, so glad I got that off my chest. It's so hard just nodding when someone tells you how much they loved Batman V Superman and you practically bite your tongue off trying not to tell them all the reasons that movie made you so damn angry. Badly written stories infuriate me, particularly in instances such as that ,   where there are so many options, and so much money thrown at them, and I could shit out a better film script in half a day, with more relevance to the comics. Movies and books with well written scripts and characters CANNOT get high enough praise from me. Stranger Things   is the breakout hit from this year, and for good damn reason. NOT, as people keep assuming, because of nostalgia - if that were true, Ghosterbusters, Fuller House, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Independence Day, Jason Bou...

Look, I like this word, panophobia. It rolls nicely off the tongue, it's all-encompassing, and perhaps most importantly, it's not a real thing. PANOPHOBIA, as a concept, does not exist. So labelling my personal battles as something almost entirely unreal somehow makes it easier for me; it distances me from my issues. You may have already picked up on the fact that I'm good at distancing myself from problems, having moved across the world by myself to work things out. But the simplest truth I can offer is that, despite my attempts to dress it up in a pretty negligee and make it do a sexy dance for aesthetic effect, I have severe anxiety and at least some form of milder depression. And that is not a fun truth to grapple with. It's hard to admit to yourself that your brain is slightly broken. Because when someone asks, "Are you okay?"                                           ...

Regina Spektor. Regina Spektor is my favourite musical artist, bar none. Elbow comes pretty close, and there are a collection of other incredible artists and bands that I absolutely adore, because  music is so important to me.  But none of these remarkable people have come  close  to shaping the person I grew up to be like Regina. Her lyrics and musical genius have gotten me through every milestone I can remember, from my parents divorce, to puberty, to graduation. I listen to her music when I'm happy and I wallow in those songs when I'm sad; there isn't a single mood I can be in that at least one of her songs wouldn't match. Honestly, I was going to write something completely different for this post, but after last week, it's going to have to wait. Because I saw Regina Spektor last Tuesday. And it was a big deal for me. She made me cry. HARD. I cry quite a bit, when I'm sad and frustrated and annoyed, but I rarely cry when I'm touched. And god-fuck...

As far back as I can recall, I never had a “home”. I had a house – in fact, after my parents got divorced, I had two – but they were never homes. My birth home is England, but we moved to Australia when I was four, so I suppose that makes Australia my second home. It never felt like one though – with my weird accent, unusual brain and know-it-all attitude, it was no question I was eventually going to be bullied, I just didn’t know it at the time. I quickly learnt to change the only obvious part of myself, and lost most of my English accent in favour of a more neutral Anglo-Aussie hybrid, which seemed to help things, even if only a little. I tried not to cry, and I speedily learnt the fine art of emotional repression *go me!* but there were times I would break down in the bathroom or fake sick days to avoid being in that environment. And when I did break down, there was always one common theme to my tears, something we’ve all heard from a scared child – “I want to go home.” ...