Rip Tide

Been doing a lot of reflecting lately (lately?!? you say with bewilderment).
I have been amazingly privileged to get some feedback for my blog from people in my life, and instead of humbly accepting this encouragement and using my creative energies for good, I let my ego inflate and wreak havoc. Maybe it's the awkward teenager in me who gets all giddy and crazy at the thought of being accepted. Maybe it's just my natural tendency for arrogance. Either way, I was feeling pretty up myself this past weekend. I had it all; a romance (or two), an appreciated blog, a nicely developing reputation at work, well wishes from people I have gotten close to as I prepare for the next leg of my adventure.
Cue Frittany.

What's more classy than downing a bottle of red wine while chain smoking cigarettes and obnoxiously 'gangster' dancing? Ooh pepper in some public makeouts and yelling obscenities at people. It wasn't all bad...had a very electric moment with someone very special...laughed a lot...gave a few positive pep talks. But overall, I was pretty fucking annoying. I can always tell when I've had a great night versus when I've had a Frittany episode. The details are often fuzzy, and the hangovers feel the same, but there's a general sense of shame and regret after Frittany comes out. Like if I had to put up with me that night, I would be pretty close to punching me in the face.

So I've been apologizing to the necessary parties, and listening to a lot of Lana Del Rey. And it reminds me how far I have come. I clearly remember a time when I always felt ashamed and out of control, and to make myself feel better I told myself that I was ok and had nothing to be ashamed of. But that is a blatant lie, and karma always catches up with you. So one's actions should always be considered, even if one is travelling and this isn't "real life". It is real life, and if I leave tomorrow and choose to forget everything that's happened in Perth, the people I have met and influenced will remember, and it will still be real to them. And thus I've had [another] reality check and have calmed my ego down. I used to think that once you fuck up, then learn your lesson and mature somewhat things are rosy. But no, I am realizing that you just keep fucking up, and then you learn a new lesson, and so on. And yet, there's no use beating a dead wallaby. Shame is something you recognize and forgive yourself for and let go of. Guilt is something that hangs around being negative, like a cranky 90 year old at the local pub, and I have no time for that.

Which brings me to my next point - Time. Two months ago I was all set to say 'catchya Straya' and be on my merry way. But then I realized I was just being lazy, and I would look back on that moment years later and think "you idiot" so I decided to stay. As I've said before, I can feel my Perth days are numbered. And like any great experience, I don't appreciate it fully until it's almost over. I can't believe I've been here for almost six months. I haven't been up to Broome, I haven't been on a wine tour in Margaret River, I haven't been to Rottnest Island. But I have met the most brilliant people. I have shared moments of fear, honesty, joy, freedom, pleasure and so much more. I've learned to go around barefoot and not care. I've been out at a gay bar and felt completely comfortable. I've gone for a drunken midnight dip in the ocean. I've been out walking and just stared and marvelled at the trees here. I have known people, and I have gotten to know myself.

I am sad to leave. I am excited for what is to come.

     

In The No

I've rediscovered the joys of saying 'no'. I think it's a service industry thing, because I have vague recollections of this feeling from when I worked in a nightclub, back in the day (am I old enough to say that yet? Meh, just go with it.) Years and years of dull office drudgery and polite submission have worn me down, programmed me to say 'yes'. Yes I can do that, yes I can figure it out, yes I will keep track of how much water you drink on a daily basis [while I fantasize about poisoning your coffee]. But since I've been working at the pub, I've woken up from my haze of yes and have started saying no. Granted, it is a customer service job, and I do honestly want people to have a positive experience. But when it's the busiest night of the year and some fool is asking you for six cocktails that I don't know how to make, and we're not actually supposed to make them anyway, it's incredibly liberating to just say 'Nope!' and serve someone else. I'm still a little rusty, and unfortunately will respond to people whistling or waving money around. However, since it's abundantly clear that tipping is not part of the Australian culture, I'm learning to ignore them and just go with my instincts. Like the quiet man at the end of the bar who's been waiting patiently for ten minutes. Overall what I'm (re)learning is that industry jobs are about smiling and acting polite and apologetic when things don't go the patron's way, but ultimately not actually caring at all.

I am slightly concerned that I will never care about anything again. But I'm going to go out on a limb and say that's just the over-dramatic teenager inside me, who will literally worry about anything. If I'm being honest I have to say that I feel more comfortable with myself than I have in, well, possibly ever. I sent a [completely unflattering and also hilarious] photo of myself to a friend in Canada and he asked me "who is this person you are becoming?" The response I gave him was the truth; someone who doesn't apologize.

I've spent so much of my life apologizing for things that aren't necessarily my fault. Some things, yes, I was an idiot and it was completely my bad (ex. spending money foolishly, being snobby in high school, getting married). Other things, such as being tall and thin, not so much. So I'm working on realizing the things I should say sorry for, and things I should not. Dressing like a dyke and getting drunk and making obscene gestures in photos, well, that's what I feel like doing right now and if that isn't your cup of tea I'm not sorry.

On the other hand, I don't want to lose my sensitive side, which may be a legitimate fear. I'm terrified of getting close to someone emotionally, since I've gotten used to flying solo. But these walls make it harder to empathize with people. How do I stand up for myself without turning into an asshole? How do I keep my heart soft without becoming a door mat? These are the questions that circle my mind, which I have to say are much more valid and interesting questions than "why isn't he calling me back?" So even though I'm a work in progress, I think I've still been making progress.

A girl I work with told me that she has recently become a rather avid reader of my nonsense, which surprised me. Partly because she and I don't know each other very well, and partly because I'm always surprised when actual people look at me and say "I read your blog". Sure I have a page counter, so I have a vague idea (though I don't trust the internet), but it's still a small shock to know people are actually taking time out of their day to invite my thoughts into their heads. It's interesting because I'm not really that interesting. Let's be real, I'm not the most clever or wise person with a blog, not by a long shot. But I think the people who read this are people who are somewhat like me. People who are confused about life in general and wonder why it seems to be so easy for other people...people who graduate, go to school, get a job, get a partner, buy a house, and so on. I've always been interested in people who seem to go the alternative route, because I suppose I'm one of those alternative people. And it's time I stopped trying to pretend that I'm not.

So no, I don't care about corporate culture. No, I don't mind eating leftover wedges from a stranger's plate. No, I'm not a lesbian but I'm attracted to people, not genders. No, I don't think 25 is too old to still be figuring my life out. I hope I never figure it all out, as I think that would be incredibly boring.