Responsibility Sucks

There is nothing fun about being responsible. Being responsible means you stay at home when you really want to go to see a movie with your friend, because you know you can’t afford it. Being responsible means getting up and going to work every day, even though it makes you want to drive a fork through your eye. Being responsible means staying firm about decisions you make, when all you really want to do is give in with reckless abandon, and indulge in forbidden pleasures.

Whoever decided that it was up to us, as adults, to bear the weight of responsibility must have been a pretty uptight kinda dude. It certainly makes me miss aspects of my childhood, when hard decisions were up to other people to make. What I need is for someone else, someone smarter than me, to make my decisions and then deal with the aftermath and the responsibility of those decisions. Or, alternatively, I need to just be more carefree, and throw away responsibility altogether. To be fair, neither one of those options are sustainable in the long term, but right now I’m having a lover’s tiff with responsibility, and at this rate, one of us is going to end up sleeping on the couch.

In a perfect world, I would have everything I wanted. In a perfect world, having to choose between my sanity or a paycheck wouldn’t even be an issue. Nor would choosing between fun things, and adult things. In a perfect world I wouldn’t have to sacrifice one thing for another, or give up on things altogether. But alas, we don’t live in a perfect world, and being a responsible adult is about the only thing I am able to do, even when I hate it.

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New House, and Good Things

I have moved into a new house, in a new town, entirely on my own. I’ve been looking forward to this since shortly after I moved out of my last solo house, which was almost two years ago. And now, to my absolute joy, I am once again living alone.

As you are probably aware, I am not the most people friendly person in the world. My experiences living with others have only reiterated to me how much I do enjoy being alone, and having my own space. I like not having to put pants on to walk from one room to another. I like being able to watch whatever I want, and take up all the space on my (admittedly tiny) couch. I like practising guitar, or playing video games at 2am without an angry face popping out of a bedroom door to tell me to go to bed. In fact, there’s not much that I don’t love about living alone, if I’m being honest.

The move was relatively painless, and we got all my stuff into the new place fairly quickly. Though the front two rooms are in various states of disarray, I plan to organise it all this weekend and, assuming I can find the missing screws for my sewing table, hopefully set up a sewing space. Which makes me so happy, because it’s been so long since I last had a dedicated space to create. And the space, sweet baby Satan, the space. There’s so much of it! My first house was a tiny little cottage that suited me just fine, but this place is huge! In fact, it’s probably more space than I need, but I am certain that this house was meant to be for me.

See, when I was applying for houses, the place I’ve moved into is one of only two properties I was actually able to inspect. The other was way too small, so I didn’t bother applying. I applied for plenty of other places, but every single one of them was leased before I even had a chance to inspect. Now, you could argue that the reason I was approved for this place is because it was the only one I got to properly apply for, but I believe the other inspections were cancelled because this was the house I was meant to move into. The universe is funny that way, and when she sets her mind on something, it’s best to just let it happen.

Now of course, the first thing I did on my first night in this giant place, was cleanse it. Sage smudging is an important part of my moving house ritual; call me New Age-y, but if you don’t expel negative energies from your house, you’re setting yourself up for trouble. For me, I like the clean slate and it helps to make the house mine, and remove any lingering energy from the previous tenants.

I’m excited to see what this new adventure has in store for me. I passed my final assessment at work on Thursday, so I am now officially qualified at my job, and I get a pay rise to boot! For the first time in a long time, I feel like I’m on the right track, and that’s a really great feeling.

Random Life Update

I signed a rental lease yesterday, and today began the preparations for the pending move, which is in about three weeks. I sent off my first rent payment, and the bond. I am arranging to have my storage shed lease cancelled, I organised to have the electricity set up at the new house effective from my move in date, and now the only other things I need to do are make sure the gas gets connected, and cancel my gym membership…which has gone unused for at least the last two months. So, all in all, today I have been a real adult.

My new job is still going really well. I feel a little overwhelmed, and there have been more than a few times in the last two weeks where I feel like I’m not absorbing the information as fast or as well as I should be. It’s quite a complicated job, but I am hoping that I can keep barrelling on and do my best to stay ahead of the curve. Or at the very least, on par. However all those things aside, I’m really glad that I took the chance on the application and that I have come this far in the process. What makes the job even better are the people in my training group.

I’ve said before that I am not particularly good at making new friends. For a myriad of reasons, new friends and I don’t usually seem to stick. My work family are just a really rad bunch of people. There is a lot of laughter in that little training room, a lot of support, and daily shares of puppy photos. We have all fallen into a comfortable friendship in the last couple of weeks, and I feel really lucky to be in that group.

I’m in a very positive mindset at the moment, and I’m excited for the new changes and possibilities coming my way. It makes a nice change, that’s for damn sure! I’m going to leave you with a photo of the view I get to see every night on my drive home. It amazes me every time, just how far the distance stretches, and it makes me realise just how very small we really are.

Mt. Franklin view 4/4/18

Being an Adult; Big Change Edition

So, I think there’s a chance I might actually be becoming a proper adult. I know, I’m just as scared and surprised as you are. It’s just that recently, I’ve made a few changes that seem like very grown up decisions to the perpetual child in me. And perhaps it’s not an altogether bad thing.

The first change I made was taking out the piercing in my tongue. I’ve had my tongue pierced since I was about nineteen, and at the time I thought I was so cool…despite the fact that it took me two weeks to rid myself of the tongue swollen lisp; that was very much the opposite of cool. Anyway, I’d had that piercing in for the better part of five years and finally decided that the damage it could do to my teeth wasn’t worth the supposed ‘cool’ factor. It felt like a very adult choice, and I feel better for it. So does the dentist.

The second thing is that I’ve been branching out with my somewhat meagre cooking abilities. With my housemate in India for three weeks, I have carte blanche to make whatever I want, at whatever time I choose. Now admittedly, last night I did eat four hash browns for dinner because I’m a little broke after impulsively purchasing an electric guitar (ok, so maybe not a completely responsible adult just yet), but that doesn’t change the fact that some of my recent creations have been inspired. Zucchini slice, chicken soup, chilli…I’m no masterchef, but I’m certainly improving.

And the last and most significant change is the fact that I have once again started to apply for jobs. Now, Christmas is either the best or the absolute worst time to be hunting for alternative employment. But it is utterly essential for my mental health, and outlook on life. As I mentioned in my last post, they moved me into a new shop, and despite the fact that I tried to be positive about it, I was in tears three times in three days. That’s a pretty crap track record, and it has made me realise that no amount of money is worth my complete and endless misery. And anyway, the only reason I’m on such good money is because I’m working 51 hours a week, including all weekend. You’ve all heard me complain about it before, so I won’t go into it again, except to say that I need to make a change before I have a mental and emotional breakdown. And trust me, the way things have been going lately, I am well on my way.

So there you have it. Little old ‘adulthood is for losers’ Amy is finally on her way to becoming one. Gods help us all.

Home

Those of you that follow my blog will have read a post I put up a few weeks ago, about change. Well, the big change I mentioned in that post is official. At the end of this month, I will be moving to the city. I have a confirmed job, a confirmed house and a moving date. I am finally taking the giant and overdue step of leaving my stifling and stunting home town, to move on to bigger and better(?) things.

I have lived in my current house for a touch over a year, and it has never really felt like home. I mean sure, it’s where my stuff is. It’s where I sleep, where I sew, where I shower. And my ghost came with me…either that or I got a new one, so at least the knocks on the walls and the randomly opening doors was comfortingly familiar. But that aside, something about the house never felt right. It’s like I never really got properly settled.

Before I move out of home last year, I had lived in that house for twenty years. It’s where I grew up, I can tell you every creak in the floor, every crack in the paint, every quirk. My dad still lives in that house, and to me, it will always be home. Every night I eat dinner at his house and flop in front of the heater feels more natural to me than when I (rarely) cook in my own house and settle in on the couch with a movie.

Moving away is going to be interesting. I’m moving in with a friend, to a place almost entirely unfamiliar to me. I am going to have to man up, and start cooking for myself instead of relying on my dad. (shut up, I hate cooking and he can only cook for an army, it’s a win win). I am going to have to get accustomed to living with another person again…and hope that she doesn’t get sick of tripping over my sewing stuff! And I’m hoping that this house will feel a little more like home than the house I’m about to leave.

I am comfortable living on my own. I enjoy having my own space and not having to put clothes on. I like being able to use my vibrator and not worry that someone will hear me. I like doing my own thing and being accountable only to me. It’s unlikely I’ll ever move back home for those reasons. But nevertheless, it is and it will always be home.

Working Hard for the Money…Then Giving It All Away.

I need to win the lottery. Or invent some incredible new thing that makes me billions of dollars. Or become a ridiculously famous author. Or a stripper. Whichever of these options that makes me the most money, I choose that one.

Here’s the thing. I’m not really driven by money. Even though I know it’s essential to live, I’m not chasing dreams of high powered corporate jobs, or having high aspirations in any given career. I just want to create, and travel and meet interesting people, do new things and collect experiences rather than material possessions. The problem is, unfortunately due to life and adulthood being a major inconvenience, I need money.

I just got paid and sat down to work out my outgoing expenses for the week. After my rent, my weekly car repayment, the usual small deposit in my savings (which is actually for bills etc) and on my credit card, and the money I’ve set aside to see the dentist tomorrow (*eeeep*) I have $150 left. One hundred and fifty dollars with which to buy food, essential items – don’t you find that all the important stuff runs out at once – put fuel in my car, buy a Mother’s Day gift or flowers or something for my mum and allow myself the daily chai latte that gets me through my mornings at work. It looks like I’ll be eating a lot of Mi Goreng this week.

I know that there are others far worse off than me, and that the fact that I have a regular income means I’ll never really be too deep in hot water. But I live alone and pay everything by myself and sometimes I would just like to go through a week without having to count every dollar that I spend. In one hand and out the other, isn’t that what they say? Well, I better find a solution soon, or that stripper idea might start to seem really appealing. And anyone who has seen me dance will know just how bad an idea that really is.

Through the Eyes of a Child

Sometimes I miss being a child. Back when things were mostly easy; when the scary things could be fixed by simply hiding under the covers, and when my biggest worry was that the boy I had a crush on might think I was weird. I miss those easy days, when life didn’t seem to weight so heavily on me.

I’ve been going through a weird time lately. My head is all over the place; I’m questioning things I thought were solid, I’m doubting myself more than ever, I’m struggling with the fact that my life is going nowhere and the crushing inevitability of remaining stuck in a place I want desperately to be free of. I hate my job. I miss my brother. I can’t write. And the bitter cherry atop it all is a deep loneliness that I’ve only just come to recognise.

It’s hard, being in such a dark place with no sign of the light. In my mind I know that the light is there somewhere, and that eventually I will climb back to to it again. But right now, I feel like I’m being dragged deeper and deeper into the murky depths of my own unhappiness, and from where I stand, there appears nothing ahead of me but more of the same.

Life was simpler when I was a kid. It’s funny, I used to be so excited to be an adult. But now that I’m here, the world doesn’t seem as great as it looked through the eyes of a child.