April Fools

You know those dreams where one minute you’re standing in the middle of Bunnings trying to decide between a blue unicorn and pink unicorn and then all of a sudden you’re in the middle of the fucking Sahara Desert with no arms, no legs, a broken paddle and a compass that doesn’t point North? No? Just me? Okay, well that’s how I felt standing in the middle of IKEA, Melbourne, less than a week after I’d packed myself up and made the big move.

I’m not sure whether it was the fact that I was operating on limited sleep, my fingers felt like they were turning into icicles, a lack of service or because I’d already dropped a number of pieces of furniture on my sensitive toes… but I was in the midst of an unprecedented, extremely embarrassing meltdown. And yeah, I was standing in the middle of IKEA, of all places. Apparently Melbournians are made of stronger stuff too, because locals were skirting around me like I’d sprouted warts or something.

It was here, after months of basking in the glow of my colleagues’, friends’ and family’s encouragement, that I finally became disillusioned. There was a big sticker on my forehead that read ‘April Fools Sucker!’ except it wasn’t April, and I’d inflicted this upon myself. Once again, despite countless moves (wanted and unwanted), I’d kidded myself into thinking that if I made this move, my whole life would do a complete back-flip, I’d re-make myself, I’d work harder, I’d chase my dreams, I’d not let myself get caught up in all the drama of dating, going out etc. etc. etc. But here I was, standing in IKEA, teeth chattering, probably resembling a snotty two year old, with the sudden, dawning realisation that I was completely, absolutely unprepared for this feeling of being utterly alone.

Somewhere, deep down, I’d known that this move wouldn’t be easy. I’d known that I’d go through a period of stagnancy and that not everything would fall into place like a slice of pizza (or eight) and a glass of chocolate milk after work. No, I’d have to work for it. But in that moment, all of those realisations sort of hit me like one of Dad’s farts after Curry Night. In one big, overpowering wave. And yeah, the water works kicked into full motion. 

You’ll be happy to know that I did survive. I got my furniture and I kept plodding along. Since then I’ve picked up an awesome job, I’ve continued my writing, got back into dancing, I’ve met some pretty cool people whom I hope to call friends in the near-distant future, and yeah, I’ve had a couple more meltdowns, I’m missing home a lot and I swear I will never feel my toes again (and probably not see them again either. My chocolate addiction has gotten wildly out of control).

It wasn’t until yesterday really, while I was semi-lost out in the middle of a gorgeous walking trail around the Yarra River in the heart of Melbourne that I realised I’m kind of an idiot. Okay, not kind of, I’m practically a Magpie Lark on the wrong side of a glass door. Moping, sitting around, wishing I had friends and eating endless amounts of chocolate is not going to get me anywhere. Complaining about it to my Mum is also not going to get me anywhere (sorry Mum for being a complete Princess).

Instead, I’ve constructed a sort of reminder survival list to ensure that I do not spend the next two months, and more, the same way I spent this past two months. Here goes;

1. Real life is not a Harry Potter book – Nothing can be fixed with the wave of a wand. Get up. Deal with it. Make it better.
2. Chocolate is not an appropriate substitute for vegetables (neither is peanut butter toast). Fun fact: It takes 4 hours of exercise to work off one Tim Tam – think about it, and then apologise to your thighs. 
3. Don’t worry before worry is due! Nothing will come of it except premature wrinkles. Take things as they come.
4. Avoid IKEA, unless armed with two friends, a Ute and steel-capped boots.
5. Don’t wait for anyone or anything. In the famous words of Shia Labeouf, “JUST DO IT!”
6. Think warm thoughts.
7. Exercise is one of the most important keys to happiness. Suck it up Princess.
8. You’re never really alone. Pick up that phone, make that call, reach out. There are always people around you willing to help.
9. And finally, keep fighting – If anything, your dreams are at least a little bit closer.

     It's true that it takes a huge amount of courage to make any sort of change, big or small. But what I'm realising now is that it takes even more courage to deal with the aftershocks of that change. Nothing is ever going to be easy. You will always have ups and downs. But if there's anything in life that I'm absolutely certain about, it's that everything will eventually work out, one way or another. 

Doug the Gnome of Doubt... Doubt the Gnome of Doug?

I spent a lot of time thinking about metaphors that could be used to describe doubt. From a passing annoyance, a mosquito bite, to something as debilitating as a terminal illness. The thing about doubt is that not everyone can see it, but at some point in our lives everyone feels it. There’s no cure, and the only treatment available to us is the power of our own minds.

I like to think of my own doubt as a tiny Gnome that lives in the deepest darkest corner of my brain. He wears a top hat and smokes Cuban cigars. He has a voice like Nicki Minaj, with an attitude to boot. Generally he’s a pretty placid fellow. But it only takes one comment, one thought, one stumble and  he’s charging through my thoughts with all the destructive power of an avalanche.

   

Day in and day out, we fight with allegorical tooth and nail to lock that little gnome up in the cage where he belongs, on most occasions with little success. As it were, Doubt is a well-practiced escape artist and he demands to be heard.

Just a few days ago I struck up a conversation with a complete stranger, which soon lead into general discussions about our aspirations for the future. Now, I’m not entirely sure about the How’s or Why’s, but in less than a few minutes I found myself in a very uncomfortable situation. You see, this stranger was very disapproving of the goals I had set myself. In fact, she managed to sell them as ‘silly, unnecessary and selfish’ all in the one sentence. Needless to say, I was shocked. Unexpectedly-shat-on-by-a-seagull-during-a-casual-stroll-along-the-beach shocked.

At that point I probably should have punched her in the nose, stood my ground and declared, “I will not settle! I will not spend the rest of my life in dull complacency!” and stormed off with my head held high and my confidence intact. Instead I choked out barely comprehensible words of agreement and slunk off with my tail between my legs.

This woman, this complete stranger, had successfully shrunk me to the size of a mouse and trampled me with her pink-slippered feet. I could feel my heart and my confidence leaking out of my ears like something out of a horror movie. And oh boy was my little Gnome Of Doubt (let’s call him Doug) throwing a party. In fact, he’d practically hitched a ride to Vegas, where he’d probably spend the evening throwing back margaritas and twerking on the main strip.

All of a sudden I was doubting myself. And it was terrifying.

For the next few days I thought about nothing else. It didn’t matter what kind of front I put up, how much I ranted about it, or how often I joked about pink slippers, a chord had been struck and now Doug was on a field trip.

It was a while before I remembered that we deal with difficult personalities on a day to day basis and, as much as I would love to hurl myself to the ground in a rage, beat my fists on the floor and yell obscenities at every person who so much as breathes in my direction,  it would be completely pointless. Regardless of the Who, What, When or Where, there will always be people who  disagree. There will always be people who need to throw in their lot. And perhaps that’s only human.

What I also realised was that the doubt I was feeling now, had in fact always been there. I’d always had a tiny, niggling voice in the back of my head that constantly told me I wasn’t good enough. And that too was only human.

The fault here was with myself, for allowing just another person to have such a huge effect on my confidence. If I were to allow every negative comment made by strangers to affect me so greatly, I’d be confined to a psychiatric ward.

The reality of the situation is that doubt will always be a constant in my life. The only comfort I can offer is that doubt is manageable, so long as we continually refuse to allow the thoughts, words or actions of anyone other than ourselves to have a negative effect on our lives.  

So it’s not quite a happy ending, but it is a reminder to be strong, to be brave, to be steadfast in your beliefs and above all, to avoid entering into conversation with elderly ladies wearing pink slippers in public spaces. 

Doubt will always be there. Make it your personal challenge to beat it at every turn. 

It's Okay to be Alone

I’m always slightly embarrassed when the subject of my three cats comes up in conversation. After putting two and two together, most people are quick to brand me the ‘Crazy Cat Lady’. Two and two being that I have ‘officially’ been a Single Pringle for the better part of  a year and half. Whilst the label ‘Crazy Cat Lady’ generally brings to mind a crooked old lady, brandishing a box of kitty treats like a sword, with crazy eyes and surrounded by a sea of cats – Clearly not me (although the crazy eyes do tend to come out at 2am in the morning when the insomnia is blaring and I’m spooning peanut butter out of the jar like we’re in some kind of peanut butter apocalypse), the stigma surrounding the label is a tad depressing.

In the time that I’ve been single, I’ve watched my friends jump in and out of relationships a number of times.  I’ve watched them get engaged, fall pregnant and move in with their partners, get a puppy or two, buy a house. All the while I’m sitting here with my cats and a veritable mountain of chocolate wondering what the hell is wrong with me. Why aren’t I settling down? Why don’t I have a boyfriend? Am I ugly? Am I too bossy? I’m not… I mean,  is it because I’m too fat? Oh I get it, it’s because I have a bum-chin isn’t it? I mean, come on, in the right light and with the right angle, you practically can’t see it…

 I used to spend a fair amount of time moping, particularly on a Friday night when my roommates stayed at their partners’ houses and it was just me, a bottle of wine, our cats and the tissue box.   

And I know I’m not the only one. Perhaps it’s a little different for men, but women, particularly young women, seem to spend a lot of their time searching for ‘The One’. Nights spent scouring the late night for a potential drunken mate, primping their looks, checking out every Hottie buying coffee at Gloria Jeans, hours spent left-swiping on Tinder (guilty), stalking friends of friends of friends on Facebook, an hour spent carefully crafting a text message that’s the perfect mix of casual crossed with interest – god forbid you seem too interested!  Generally thinking you will only be truly happy when you’ve stumbled across that ‘special someone’.

A few months ago I mentally slapped myself. Wake the fuck up Ash, where did you get this crazy idea that you need to be in a relationship to be happy? Being single isn’t a curse, it’s an opportunity (yes, another one. I know, I know, I’m starting to sound like a broken record player).

At some point in your life, for a significant amount of time, you NEED to be single. Why? Because it allows you to focus on yourself, it allows you to be selfish.

Contrary to common belief, it’s okay to be selfish. And it’s okay to be alone.

Young people often fall head over heels into relationships, without stopping to think about where they’re headed, what they want to do with their lives, what makes them happy. And as clichéd as it sounds, they don’t really learn who they are or what they are capable of because they’re too focused on the ‘us’ or the ‘them’. Don’t get me wrong, love, in any shape or form is a wonderful part of life, but in this day and age, in Western society, both sexes have all the opportunities in the world laid at their feet, opportunities that sometimes go ignored in the wake of someone else’s needs and wants.

That said, I’m not condemning young people who are in long-term relationships or have started families. As always, you need to do what’s right for you. If that’s what you want, then full steam ahead Sister! Sometimes life leads you in unexpected directions, and sometimes you need to embrace what it throws at you.

I’m also not saying that once you reach a certain age, you need to be in a long-term relationship or starting a family. Or, god forbid, that its more ‘acceptable’ to have a family at a later age.

No, what I’m saying is that, if at ANY point in your life you find yourself alone, with three cats and a box of tissues –  wipe your nose, quit moping, rein in Cupid, unstring the bow and stop hunting for your ‘other half’. All you need is you.

While you have the opportunity - learn to be independent. Be spontaneous. Do the things that make you happy.

At the right time, the right person will walk into your life. Until then, remember: it’s okay to be selfish and it’s okay to be alone.  Take the opportunity and run with it baby! The world awaits! 

Hozier - Take Me To Church. 

On repeat. 

Just Do It.

Picture this:

The sand crunched satisfyingly beneath her toes as the young girl prepared to push off. She perched precariously on the edge of the swing, her tiny hands curled around the chains with enough intensity to turn the knuckles white, her face the picture of concentration. For a minute she held her breath, excitement palpable, and then she pushed off. Higher and higher she swung, her hay-coloured hair whipping about her like a cape. An exultant grin lit her face as the swing reached a height at which she could just peak over the tops of the houses down the street. One final, powerful swing backward saw her concentration return. With a squeal of excitement, she let go of the swing and launched herself forward, her arms spread wide as if she could fly.

I’m not sure about you, but thinking about launching myself out of a swing set now, at 19 years old? I’ll politely decline, thank you very much. As an adult, I’ve learnt my lessons. Broken bones, chipped teeth, grazed knees… and who knows what kind of heebie jeebies are lurking in the sand, just waiting for the opportunity to take a nip at my precious toes?

And yet… in the same breath, I kind of wish I could take that leap. Or rather, I wish I could take risks without any thought for the potential consequences.

As we grow older and enter into adulthood, we are no longer able to launch ourselves into the unknown with absolute faith that we will be able to pick ourselves up at the bottom. We worry, we delay, we allow ourselves to be dissuaded by potentials. Potential consequences, potential downfalls, potential problems. Until finally we convince ourselves that our ideas, our goals, are impossible.

What I've come to realise these past few months is that you can’t allow yourself to be afraid of the unknown. Any action comes with consequences. Any excitement comes with a little bit of fear. Success doesn't come without a little risk and sometimes happiness means taking yourself out of your comfort zone.

Everyone has desires, aspirations, dreams and goals. Invest in some knee pads, tuck your elbows in and just go for it. Talk to that guy you've been crushing on. Quit that job. Move to a new city. Wear that dress. Get married… or hell, get divorced! It’ll be difficult, it’ll be scary, but I tell you what, you have no idea how clear the skies can be until you've made a decision to change your life for the better. To do what’s right for you. 

My message today I guess is simply this:

Take a leap of faith.

Hey guys!

I've really been getting stuck into the writing this past week and I thought I'd share a few bits and pieces in the hopes of getting some feedback! Feel free to channel your meaner side!

Thanks for taking a minute to have a read 

Ash x

Typhon Expanse - Anthology 

I let out a small sigh of relief as an unexpectedly cool breeze ruffled the hair that lay slick to the back of my neck. My relief was short-lived however, as the next strong gust whipped the bedraggled black strands across my face and into my eyes. Catching a rather large chunk in my mouth, I choked and sputtered, breaking the thick silence that had hung over our congregation like a cloak. I winced. It was a mark of our colony’s discipline that not a single person turned to glare at me disapprovingly, although I could almost sense Elder Frost’s third eyelid twitching irritably, even from my position at the very back of the group.

I sunk low into my robe, feeling my ears grow hot with embarrassment. I’d long been considered the ‘odd one’ in the community. According to my tutors, I lacked the ‘natural grace and patience’ of the females of our race. Personally I liked to think that my vivacious personality was simply a source of jealousy. That aside, even I couldn’t deny that too often I found myself in uncomfortable situations I’d unwittingly brought on myself.

A dribble of moisture slid down my back, joining the other droplets of sweat that were quickly forming a formidable lake at the base of my tail. I shifted uncomfortably in the heat, willing my legs to uncramp themselves. The small movement caused me to brush involuntarily against the girl crouched respectfully on my left. Her posture stiffened, the set of her mouth radiating disapproval. I let out another sigh, this time in frustration.

Our congregation had gathered in the Sacred Valley, beneath the shrine of our Sun Gods, to pray for a safe and prosperous Mid-Cycle. It was a traditional event that occurred at this time each rotation and was considered of utmost importance. Group prayer and extended fasting ensured our continued grace in the eyes of our Gods. At this particular time, when both Suns scorched the land and our already limited water supplies grew even scarcer, survival became a top priority. Unfortunately, prayer was all that the colony could fall back on in harsh times. Me? Well, I was somewhat of a cynic. I wasn’t sure that any amount of prayer was going to push us through this Mid-Cycle, which already appeared bleaker than usual. That said I wasn’t able to offer up any life-changing alternatives to our predicament either.

Don’t get me wrong, I firmly believe in the existence of our Gods. Whether or not they have a hand, or even an interest in our measly existence? Well, I couldn’t help but speculate. I wasn’t the only one either. Many of the youth felt that it was a time for a change in leadership, a time to discuss new ideas, approach the growth and survival of our race from a new direction. The Elders were steadfast in their traditions though; the structure of our leadership allowing for no argument from the general population.

So here we knelt, the heat beating down on us from both the East and the West, the sand beneath our knees growing hotter and hotter, my stomach practically about to grow legs and go in search of food itself and the stench of sweaty bodies quickly becoming a fainting hazard.

Unfortunately, it would only get worse as the Suns neared their peak.  

The wind had picked up in earnest now. I raised my face to the sky, closing my eyes and allowing myself to enjoy the small respite. Abruptly, a shadow fell across my lids. I frowned. The wind was abnormal, but clouds? Rain at this time of the rotation was unheard of.

As the wind continued to grow in strength, I slowly became aware of an unusual whirring sound. 

Age Is All About Perspective

I woke up this morning to the horrific realisation that in less than a few months I’ll be leaving behind my teenage years, stripping away any confidence I had in my lustrous youth and entering into my third decade.

I’ll be 20 years old. Practically ancient.

I found myself scrutinizing my face in the mirror, terrified that somehow I’d aged overnight. Is that another wrinkle under my eye? Am I getting…jowls? I’m totally getting jowls. If I pull my face up this way… Oh my god is that a double chin?! Does my nose look droopy to you? Its drooping isn't it?

It was as I was standing there, my face smooshed against the mirror, age-defying moisturizer smeared across my cheeks as if I were about to do battle with time itself, that I had this world-altering, life-changing, mind-boggling thought…

Why does it matter if I’m old.

Old. It’s such a taboo word isn't it? To be called ‘old’ is to be labelled undesirable and weak. Age has become a barrier, a constant reminder that as our knees grow knobblier, our lives grow shorter. Age is an enforcer of limitations. We are instilled with this idea that the older we get, the less opportunity life holds for us, the less capable we are of filling our days with excitement and newness.

Caught up in the stigma surrounding age, we constantly dwell on the years we've left behind, rather than the years that lie ahead, believing, wrongly, that our due date has come and gone.

There’s a reason we celebrate birthdays, a reason we may have forgotten now that longevity of life has become the norm.

You've lived another year. You've created another chapter of memories. You've survived.

Once upon a time, age was considered a virtue, rather than a vice. To have lived to 30 and 50 was an achievement. The elderly were the most valued members of society simply because they held all the knowledge and experience of a lifetime in the lines of their faces.  

Life is not a given, it’s a gift, and each year older should be treated as such. Celebrated, rather than dreaded.

Maybe you can’t recover from a night of drinking like you used to, or flirt your way out of a ticket or play that favourite sport. Maybe you've got jowls, or you can’t see your belly button because your boobs retired some time ago. The point is that you lived to see it happen. You had those experiences. And when those doors close, age then allows you to experience a side of yourself you may not have considered before. You can’t play that sport? Then teach it! Don't allow yourself to dwell. Move on, make new memories, experience something different. 

Contrary to stigma, age is just another open door, a constant reminder that you are alive.  

So why does it matter if I’m old?

It doesn't! And you know what? I am going to OWN 20. 20 is going to be my year to shine. After that, I’ll go right ahead and make 21 my bitch. At 30, I’ll celebrate just how far I've come. Bring on the wrinkles, the stretch marks, the saggy ass and the age spots. Every mark and every wear and tear on my body will be a reminder of the experiences I've had. And If I’m lucky enough to live to be 80 or 100, I’ll be the happiest old biddy alive… simply because I lived.