Living a dream

Eat, Pray, Love.
Bridges of Madison County.
How Stella got her Groove Back.
Julie and Julia.
Under the Tuscan Sun.

Just a few titles of movies about women having crises later in life. Uprooting their lives and doing something totally out of the norm. Maybe 33 is a little younger than the women in these plot-lines, but this is how I feel. I'm unhappy, restless, and trying to be positive. What I want is a total revamp. I want to live in Italy for a year, and write. I want to learn foreign languages and new skills. I want self discovery and experiences. It's obviously a common theme. I'm not alone, it's a rapidly growing topic in literature and film. Of course, that tends to be for those that take the leap and embrace the risk. I can't quite manage it, yet. Maybe that's why I am slightly below the usual age, I have to wait for the kids to grow up before I leap?

It makes sense that after broken relationships, and time spent on other people - children, family, etc. that women want to find themselves again. That they want to live a dream. What if you don't know what your dream is? How can you work toward it, then?

I can see how these films are successful. How exciting it would be to throw off the traditional, and the expected, and take a leap into something we all want to do, but few of us manage.

And, in the meantime, what do I do to fulfil the empty? To give myself a reason. To be ME. I keep travelling, I keep learning, and I keep striving to ignore that someday, and live in today. I work on what my dream is, I fine tune it, and I find ways to live it. Stubborn. Determined. I am rambling today. I'm not in a good state of mind. I am not happy, and I am not positive. Mostly, I feel lost. I guess my thoughts are too.

Do gentlemen still exist?

I was thinking about this when I wrote the palooza post. Something I vaguely recall through my drunken haze, was that at the end of the night when we decided to leave, the group of guys we had chatted to that night, were leaving as well. When the cab pulled up, they bolted into it, and left us to wait for another.

I'm not saying we deserved the cab more - but we had been waiting longer - and surely the gentlemanly thing to do, would be to let the 2 drunken girls with sore feet take the first cab??

I don't know. I am all for equality, but being gentleman is attractive. Is it the increase in feminism and independent women? Are gentleman a dying breed? What do you think?

Adult High School

I was thinking the other day, that sometimes I see the patterns of high school repeat in adult life. In high school, for a while, I hung out with the in crowd. They would bitch about one another behind their back, so I knew I would be copping my fair share as well, but I figured there was not really anyone else to sit with, so I stayed.

In my last year of high school, I made some new friends. They were not the in crowd, but they were cooler than them anyway (they just felt no need to shout it from rooftops...) And they were my kinda people. The in crowd would either rubbish or ignore them, but I wished I had found them earlier than 17.

As an adult, I have discovered a similar thing. A vocal majority may disparage someone for various reasons... maybe they whine a lot. Maybe they are religious, or do not engage in certain memes or behaviours that their values do not align with... But often, these people are "my people." Often, I find that the friendships offered are stronger, more genuine, longer lasting, and less fair weather, than those with a louder voice. "Choose your friends wisely" - indeed.

I think sometimes we get so caught up in fitting in, even as adults, in saying the right things. Being witty, being clever. Sometimes - especially in the online world - I find it hard to distinguish the real people from the personas they create. Larger than life characters, but not 'real' people. If you put the real you out there, though, and you're accepted and loved - no feeling in the world beats that. 1 true friend over 100 people adoring someone that isn't really me... No contest.

Just something to consider over the weekend. Enjoy it :)

Sucky Anniversary.

This weekend, 12 months ago, I discovered my Mum had breast cancer.

Tonight, I seem to be falling apart. Always surprises me. I ought to know better, grief has no rules, huh? All it takes is one little thing, can be totally unrelated, and the head is yanked from the sand and off it goes.

All these memories are swirling around my head and I can't seem to stop crying.

I remember her saying "I've got breast cancer" and my world felt as though it had shifted right off it's axis. My head literally spun and I felt like I was dreaming, life didn't feel real. I remember gulping to stop myself sobbing. I remember the look on my Dad's face. The fear. The sad. The fact that he could hardly speak. His voice cracked.

I remember 2 weeks later, her telling me how scared she was. Her tears. For the first time to me, she looked old and tired. And so vulnerable.

Getting drunk and high with my sister to escape.

Reading about the precautions post chemo, the extent that was needed to keep her and anyone else safe from the poison. Scared.

Her screaming when she set the kitchen on fire. The realisation at that moment that things were very wrong. She was not Mum as I knew her.

Her head in a turban. Bald.

Watching the chemo mix - bright red - travel up the line into her arm and wanting to rip it out, yet being so fucking grateful it was there.

Crying so much, needing mild sedation.

Feeling grateful that her odds were so good.

The relief at the end of her treatment cycle.

So much fear.



Thank god it is over. Thank god she was so lucky and caught it early. My heart aches for those who are not as lucky.

My heart hurts tonight. I need vodka.