A buddy is all you need

I was pissed off today. But I have learnt anger is my first response, it’s rarely how I actually feel. I’m going a bit soppy tonight. I thought I better write something on here, so here we go. It’s been tough getting through this year, I’m not going to lie. I think we’ve all had our struggles. Lately the attitudes and insanely unbelievable immaturity of people around me has been astonishing. Mind-blowing. But that just makes me shake my head and count down the days until I’m out of here. Where to I have no clue, no freaking clue. It is easy to doubt yourself when you’re struggling to find support. It’s easy to doubt yourself when you’re having a hard time. I realized today how important friends are. I’m going to talk about my horse again but hear me out because it really does shed a bit of light on everyday life.

I’ve been having a hard time trying not to die every time I ride. I never get off when it gets tough but lately I’ve quite seriously weighed up my options – the firmness and impact of the ground verse galloping away into the middle of nowhere on the back of madame crazy. Neither sound great. So I found her a friend. A broken, retired (3-year-old) racehorse who my 9-year-old retired show jumper took under her wing. They love each other, like two peas in a pod. Both a little broken, both with nothing to do and both suddenly without the only job they know. In limbo. Just like that they became best friends. 

I have my horse back, she is now sweet, a little nutty and willing to do anything for me. We’re partners in crime rather than sparing partners. All it took was something to make her feel like she was wanted, a purpose, someone who understands. Maybe I am giving a horse far too many human emotions, but that it what it seems like. 

It got me thinking, people are exactly like that. We want someone to understand us, cherish us, need us. We need to be needed. We need to have a place, a purpose. We want to be understood. A friend makes everything better. So while I’m pissed at the people who don’t pick me up, who offer no explanation for their absurd behaviour, I am glad for the friends I do have. The few but the important ones that have my back.

That’s what matters, the important people and the good places we’re going to one day explore. 


The ‘Good’ Girl

Today in class my tutor, once again, said I was a good girl, and that he was renaming me GG. This is ok. It came up after we began talking about a Disney Channel show – Good Luck Charlie. Apparently I am something like the lead actress, Teddy. I don’t understand how as it has never once occurred to me that I have anything in common with her, but apparently I do. 

I have many, many times been called a ‘good girl’ throughout my life. Up until about 16 years of age I understood this. I was. Then I went through my rebellious stage. I will not go into detail but like most of my friends and 100,000’s of other teens I was  not good, my mother will agree. During this time people often said I looked like such a good girl. This seemed odd to me as I did not think one looked ‘good’. I looked like any other normal person. 

Now, I am quite good. I can’t really drink much and I don’t really have time to go out often. I like my sleep. I don’t do much else other than see my boyfriend, my friends, study, my horse, a few other hobbies (like sports) and sleep, oh and eat. Nothing super bad, nothing actually even really remotely bad. My flatmate has always been really good. Yet I do not ever recall anyone looking at her and saying ‘you look like a good girl’. So, now I am more than happy to be labeled a good girl, it’s one of the better titles. I just don’t know why me?

What on earth makes someone look like a good girl? 

It is not just that tutor, it is every second person I meet. Why? Am I super trustworthy looking? Perhaps I have an innocent smile? Is it the girl next-door kind of vibe? 

This has me truly baffled. Happy, but baffled. 

This is how I’ve grown up

Thinking about seeing past guy is a little scary I must say. Mainly because I struggle to remember what I was like back then. I know I was shy, very, very shy. Quiet, definitely quiet. Didn’t say much to anyone other than the people I knew – though I did stand up for myself when people picked on me. Normally I wasn’t quick enough to have anything intelligent to say. Looks wise I suppose I’ve changed a bit – who doesn’t in four years? But nothing shockingly different. I haven’t really grown, my hair is still roughly the same colour just a bit longer and my face lost a bit of it’s baby look.

19 is still pretty young. Nearing 20 it’s strange to think this is what I always thought about when I was 16 – who I would be when I was all grown up. Maturity, apparently that is what makes me seem older. I don’t feel very mature most of the time, but then in other moments I surprise myself. 

I am now, what I always wanted to be four years ago. I got here. That’s the problem, where to now? 

Smiley faces were certainly a chronic infestation in all of my texts, I definitely know that. My sister now complains I don’t use them enough. I still do the …. thing when I have nothing to say, I blame Daniel for that habit, never really managed to shake that. Really, I have picked up small things that I have liked from each person I have met and carried them with me. Sort of a collection of things from the people I want to be like. Whatever the trait was that I wanted, I found a way to make it happen. Weird I guess. 

When you think back, who did you want to be when you got to here? Did you get there? 

It’s odd when you stop to think about it. Some of it makes me sad. There were so many pure and wonderfully innocent things about my personality I loved then. I hated it at the time, but don’t we always when we can’t look from the outside? The world certainly does roughen and torment over the years and the sooner you try to jump into it, the faster you learn to stand on your feet and to shield your eyes and your heart. It is relentless and it is very unforgiving. 

Four years is a very short amount of time in the scheme of things, but when you realize how much changes in that time, it seems like eternity. 

Reality is, I was always this person, I just had no idea.

4 and a half years ago

4 and a half years ago. That’s a little while really. Many things change in 4 and a half years. I covered a story tonight, in a small rural town that my boyfriend lives in. This is the sort of place you kind of know where it is but most people never stop here. It has a tiny population and it is one of the last places on earth you expect to run into people you haven’t seen for 4 and a half years. 

But tonight, in the town hall, in this small rural town, at 8pm, on a Saturday, I met him again. I don’t even know if I can say again because I don’t know if I ever met him to start with. I was 15. I dated his best friend. He was with this girl at the time, a pretty blonde girl. His best friend had just cheated on me (well, he says he didn’t… it’s a twisted story and not really one worth telling) and proceeded to dump me. To be perfectly honest I don’t think I ever cared a whole bunch. None the less, that sort of thing hurts at 15. This guy (tonight man) began talking to me and we were best friends, or in my 15 year old world we were. We spoke every day all day and I relied entirely on him to get through the next few strange, borderline hellish months of boy drama. 

Then we stopped. I don’t know why, perhaps he does but I don’t. I’m not even sure there was a reason. We were amazingly close friends. To this day I don’t think he realizes just how much he helped me. 

But on my silver flip top phone with limited colour and a pixilated screen he became my everything. Then, just like that, he stopped. 

4 and a half years later there he was. In a small rural town, at 8pm, in the town hall. Standing with a friend who knew the friend I was there with. I didn’t even recognize his face till someone said his name. Then it hit me. Like a punching bag I didn’t get of the way of when in full swing it smacked me, straight between the eyes. Just like that, there he was. He’s been here for a long time. He’s even worked with my boyfriends mother. I never knew. 

It is a bazar sequence of events which lead to seeing him again. I hope to go out to coffee with him. 

This time I brought up the boyfriend topic BEFORE we went to coffee, though I am pretty sure his intentions are quite contrary to crash guy.

In 4 and a half years the things I have done – the things that have changed! I no longer have braces, I discovered pretty undergarments, I got a little more clued up on fashion, I changed my hair colour a million times. I haven’t grown a whole lot (height wise), possibly 3 cm. I left home. Had several boyfriends. Now am in a serious relationship. Grew my hair out. Have nearly finished a degree. There are just so many little tiny things that are so astonishingly different.

He was part of a chapter I thought I had long closed – a chapter that linked into almost everything I do and have now. A weird and perhaps one of the most testing times of my life. Interesting none the less. I often wondered what became of him. Now I suppose I shall find out.

Let the adventure being. 

Treasure hunt or cave dwelling?

Something has changed this semester. I perhaps it is because we’ve grown up while adventuring in the big wide world, perhaps it is because we so desperately needed a break from the people we see every day. Or maybe it’s something else. I like it. There is a nice feeling in the air. I am still quite ready to escape this place, yet at the same time, I will miss it. Three years of becoming me is here.

I’d never thought about getting a job before I started. I assumed it was something that just sort of happened. I am still hoping it still will be a case of that. I have however prepared myself due to the increased realization it may not happen that way. I may be jobless. Wow.

I’d always just pictured the end result, working in an amazing magazine, writing everything I wanted to write about. I did not really stop to think there was a much grander story in between. Yeah, yeah people say that this is the adventure, the exciting part. Perhaps they have forgotten what it is like to be unsure. Or perhaps now they are secure they think being unsure would be nice. I don’t know. 

I am loving the adventure, until I realize it might not lead to a wonderful treasure trove, it may well lead to a dark and lonely cave of nothing. Ok, now we’re getting a little depressing. But you get the idea. 

Growing up has exposed me to many things. Power bills, cold houses, lack of central heating, food bills, internet bills, strange neighbors, scary neighbors, quiet neighbors, colourful people, more bills for something I’d probably forgotten about, the joys of spending money on things that aren’t bills and life. Every detail of becoming my own person – life. That has been exciting. 

This new chapter though. I hope it is going to be even more thrilling, bewildering, fascinating, and enchanting as the last few. Even if part of it does start in a cave.

Lonely habits

I am a creature of habit. Unfortunately, or perhaps not so unfortunately, I pick up certain habits from people I talk to a lot, or spend time with. Normally they are the thing’s a I either hate or notice because they annoy me. Then, just like that, I take them on. It drives me nutty.

According to my mother I have charisma, oh course because mum has to say nice things to me I try not to be overly happy about this compliment. But I like to think I do either way. I don’t know if the habits that make me, me are learnt or if they are in fact me. One thing is for certain I have not changed much since I was a small kid. I’ve just become a bigger and much more vibrant version of it.

It makes me wonder though, how many things we never notice about ourselves? Other than the annoying things we don’t want to notice, I mean the good things that we simply have no understanding of. The things that make other people smile and take their breath away. I have always wanted to spend a day in someone else’s shoes, just figuring out what makes me tick. I don’t even know what makes me tick. Perhaps that is the magic though.

You meet someone and their magic works with yours, like these amazing electric sparks going off around you and you just have no idea. Those ‘I totally get what you mean!’ moments when you suddenly realize you’re actually not alone in all your madness. 

This just really sweeps me off my feet in amazement. How complex we are as human beings. 

Alone time does this to me, thinking. I like it though, when I’m happy thinking. I have narrowed down my urge to bake and decided I will attempt doughnuts tomorrow. I have also decided to start running in the morning. That probably wont happen, like cutting my hair short, but hey, the thought counts right? 

P.s I have forgiven my new hair dresser, I think I like the way it is now. It curls!

Making friends at 5

I want to be 5 again. Other than the pure innocence and uncomplicated way the world worked when you were 5, the biggest change as we grow up is the way we meet people and our expectations of them. It’s play time and it’s the first day of school, itchy clothes and food you don’t want. Maybe you do like it. Trade it with the girl or boy beside you, maybe share your toy or take a nap near them at map time. Making friends seemed so hard when you were 5, really, it was a piece of cake. It was a matter of I like you, you like me, we get along, you have good food and you like to share your toys. That made you friends. 

Then we grow up.

We swap the favorite colour question for the relationship one. 

We become these complex and complicated beings who have so many layers and expectations of each other it becomes almost impossible to make friends without assumptions. Without expectations. 

I met crash guy today. Again. Coffee the other night was good. Better than expected and of course, I had peppermint tea. I stopped shaking after a while. Him not being single was a problem, and of course telling him I had a boyfriend was an even bigger problem. So why was he over for dinner tonight you ask? It all comes back down to being 5. Perhaps I never grew up or perhaps I am just different. I like the idea of friendship. With whoever, whenever. There should not be limitations, expectations and assumptions when it comes to making friends. The best way to learn about the world is learning about the people in it. 

Naive, most definitely. Does that change the way I think? Not at all.

Of course I forgot the best component to lamb chops, the garlic yogurt. But that’s ok. It was good and I did not kill anyone with my cooking. 



Being human is not a flaw

The count down has begun. Three hours left to go and this experience will slip into the ‘past’ folder on my life journey and sit there until I need it once again. The skills I have learnt are invaluable and I feel not only refreshed, inspired and motivated but I now know exactly what I need to get better at, and what I already am good at. 

The biggest thing though that I have learnt is something I have been told but didn’t take much notice of. Not until it made me stick out like a sore thumb. I shove. I am a shover. Not by nature by through teaching myself not to share. This was something I was aware of, never really thought about it though. I thought why would I share things with people? 

Here, the people are what I would consider as… a little too open. I love that. It is what I thrive off. Intimacy of friendships where there is no line. I live for that, I crave that. 

I ventured onto my original blog, Xanga. I was expecting soppy, silly and pointless crap that had no relevance and was really just a sob story of a teen. I blew myself away. The writing, though badly punctuated and many words that perhaps had an extra letter or two, was incredible. It made me feel this deep and attached sense of loss. Of desperation and tragic loss. It was far better than anything I could write now. 

It was honest. 

In those words I was open and everything I felt I could explain, I could share. I did not care about the backstabbers or the bitches or the gossipers. I was far wiser back then. I was not afraid of feelings. I am now. They terrify me. Perhaps because now I have met people who judge those feelings, tear them apart, hurt and manipulate you because of them. Perhaps it is because I am afraid I am too fragile to recover from the magnitude of pain of admitting to feelings. 

Here I have gained some of that youthful wisdom. I have grown back into the person I had never realized I was. I opened my eyes and I relaxed. I once again embrace the ‘F it why not’ I did not for a second stop caring, I simply stopped worrying. There is a massive difference.

I want to provoke others like my writing provoked me. I still have a long way to go but I think I will get there. I am no longer afraid to be stressed, to cry, to break down because it makes me a better person, not a weaker person. 

Being human is not a flaw, it is just what we are. No one should ever judge that.

The good cookie moments

It is hard to imagine life anywhere but Hamilton. It is nearly impossible to picture making new friends, good friends, living alone, affording everything on my paycheck and working every day 9 – 5. Of course after spending 17 years in Tauranga I could not imagine life away from the busy beach town. The fast realization of how fast life has been changing and how well I have been adjusting is quite terrifying I think. In 4 months I will probably move. I will leave my friends and familiar streets and go adventuring.

I’m not quite sure how to feel about that. Most of my friends are not in Hamilton, I have very few close ones and certainly not like I had at school. I have moved house 4 times in three years so I don’t really have anywhere I call ‘home’ and I am no longer competing my horse so it doesn’t really matter where I keep her anymore. 

Of course there are things I will miss. Like the people where I graze my horse, after a while when things change so much something like that becomes a stability, you rely on going there every day at the same time and seeing roughly the same people.

To change that is a big thing. At the same time, my horse is loving her relaxed and ‘retired’ life of hacking, the occasional gallop and a bit of jumping mixed with lots of food and doing nothing but ‘hang with the other ponies’. It is really horse bliss when you think about it. So moving her to somewhere new is probably something she needs to spice things up. 

You see it’s actually more perception and my total paralyzing fear of the unknown rather than the actual fact of the matter. I will be hopefully moving somewhere I will have more friends or be closer to them or have the opportunity to make a bunch of new ones who fit the person I have grown into. I will be doing something I love doing and I will no longer having to study. I might even get to have a house of my own to call home. Decorate it my way and make it smell like my home. That actually sounds much better than Hamilton. 

So after nearly three weeks of a glimpse of the future, I will go back to study and whinge all about that. Hey, that’s ok. Moments in life are just like warm cookies.

Delicious and wonderful but if you have too many good ones, you’ll never want to stop eating them and that’s bad for you. And you’ll forget how good they really are. So a few bad one’s throw it all into a rather good perspective. Right now I think I’m in a good cookie moment.  

Where did you wander this time?

I like to be lost. Deep somewhere other people would only dream of going. I like to think. But not about matters or issues. I just like the thoughts to flow through my brain. Creating little crevasses and ruts. Patterns that eventually become comfortable. Then I meet someone new and find something else to think about. I am inspired by new people. But creative people. By people who think like me – feel like me. I have certainly lost my fair share of people they come and go like passers by in a hotel lobby. I suppose I have taught myself to open the door and show them out the moment shit hits the fan. Not because I don’t care but because it hinders a beauty of thought. Pure thought. Emotional baggage drags people down. It holds them captive to their hearts and it all gets a bit muddled. 

Thoughts are dangerous, it is nice to flirt with the idea of thinking of something forbidden. Of going on an adventure. Cold nights and fire places inspire, far away friends piece together the puzzle many left unfinished. Rejection is never nice, being alone is worse. We all seek company. 

So here I am.

Where are you?