This is How it Works

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.” ...

I used to hate orange. You know when you're a kid and you're shown that paint colour wheel and you pick a favourite colour, and a least favourite? When you're a kid, it's so black and white - I love pink, I hate yellow, I love blue, I hate grey etc. Well I used to HATE orange. I thought it was too bright, and boring and clashed with everything and it was just yuck.  But recently it occurred to me that when someone, namely me, pictures the colours, you don't imagine the full spectrum of shades and combinations. You, that is, I, picture that silly colour wheel and those dull primary colours. Why? Why do I do that? When someone asks me what my favourite colour is, I don't picture that bright, boring, plain red from the colour wheel when I tell them my answer. I'm picturing the shades of red that remind me of good times - the lipstick my best friend wears, the dark crimsons of my favourite nail polish, the cherry red of my hair, oozing dark reds in horr...

So again, I haven't posted in a few weeks, and that's on me, but I've been travelling a great deal, and I just haven't really had time to address this stuff. So - quickfire round on my opinions of world news lately: Brexit. Those people who don't live in the UK or EU may have no idea what it is, but it's going to have a huge effect on Britain and already has, so if you're interested in world politics, it's quite a fascinating clusterfuck. Basically, those politicians asking Britain to leave the EU convinced them to vote using lies and half-truths which shouldn't surprise anyone by now. What surprised me, however, was that they bought it hook, line and sinker and Britain is now "brexiting". How? So many of the lies were disproved early on in the campaign, and yet people still voted out. A large population of those who voted out were those in the older generations, and most of those who voted in were millennials, and that honestly just show...

I haven't posted in the past couple of weeks which was very rude of me, but I do have quite a good excuse. I was in New York, and then Reykjavik and have finally touched down in Ingatestone in the UK, where I will be staying for quite a while. Even now though, I cannot settle for at least a month because tomorrow we set off for Belgium and France and Italy. Before that however, I would like to reflect on some of my travels. This, my gap year that is, was supposed to be for self-reflection and working out what I want to do, and so far it has been nothing but the stress of findings jobs and hating them when I do get them and having the alternate stress of no money if I quit. That is NOT what I set out to do this year. I have an inkling that my gap year might turn into a Gap-two-year-plan... But the real idea was that when I arrived in England and my family went back to Australia, I would have the space and the ability to do this on my own. I absolutely did not expect for it to star...

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I have had a lot of time to think about the many ways in which we love each other over the past few weeks. Saying goodbye to people, spending time with them, it becomes obvious that we do not need to say the words, "I love you". The words are, of course, important, but there are other ways to express it as well. On our way home from Brisbane yesterday, my father told me I have magic inside me and never to let anyone ruin that.  My mother always listens to what I have to say, even when it's annoying or crazy or even something that's just plain boring to her, like movie trivia. She listens even if I drone on for hours. My sister used to (and still does sometimes) mimic my interests and hairstyles and that used to really annoy me until I realised she just wanted to be like her big sister.  My friend Clare hovers around my house every weekend, and is basically living with me at this point. She constantly pesters me to wat...