Samantha 0’eleven

On Mondays when people ask me, “how was your weekend?” I freak out a little, mostly because I don’t actually do anything, and Monday seems to be regale-adventures-past day. I’ll usually laugh with my mild hysteria and say, “oh, I read a book, hahahah, how funny! Again! My how this keeps happening!” but behind my jovial exterior is an endoskeleton of sincerity. And calcium.

I don’t understand how people haven’t realised how awkward this is for us both.

“So Sam, how was 2011?”

Let’s just say that every 7 years you have a bad year, and I’m not looking forward to 2018.

With any luck, in a year the world will end.

“Oh Sam, don’t be so melodramatic!”

Oh. Okay.

This year a lot happened. And nothing happened. I spent a lot of the year lying on the floor waiting. Waiting for time to pass. For each moment to end. Not even waiting for something, waiting for nothing.

Having depression is like that. A long string of nothing with anticipation for more nothing.

So, things that happened in 2011 (on top of the nothing):

I had some cosmetic surgery. Clearly my nose is much hotter this way.

"How you doin'?"

My nana died on February 15^th. She had a metastasis of a breast cancer she conquered in 1985. I’m so glad she did recover back then, because my nana was my hero and I couldn’t imagine how my life would have been if I hadn't had her to confide in and to offer me advice. She was an amazing networker, clever strategist (if not a little manipulative) and an eternal optimist. In my adult years I learnt she was also quite cheeky, and had a bit of a devious sense of humour.

I love my nana and I miss her very much.

Me and my nana being hot stuff at a family gathering in 2007

Then, in a fit of grief, I ran away to a different continent. I discovered I am not a well traveller and spent half the trip trying to get an early ticket home.

Perspective ;)

Perspective :D

Perspective :'(

And that triggered the depression. If I don’t enjoy the wonders of exploring the world, discovering new things, new people, new cultures, well, what really is the point? Life is wasted on me! I don’t deserve this privilege of existing while other people with so many dreams and so much potential to do good in this world are thwarted because of overpopulation – and my contribution to this overpopulation! I suck dry these resources and opportunities for others while having no desire to participate in the experience of living.

My body followed my mental state, and I spent a lot of the year physically unwell; and to top it off I’d fallen in love! Quelle dommage!

Some good things did gone came of this year. I treat myself better now; I’m not so hard on myself, and I eat much healthier (and lost 10kgs doing so!).

I have a wonderful job which I am passionate about, not just the communications work I do, but the philosophy of the whole organisation. My boss is amazing; intuitive, motivating and inspirational! He really gets me. My colleagues are also incredible; genuine, caring and helpful. I love being part of my team.

I also discovered how great my friends are. I secretly always knew, but this year confirmed I have wonderful taste in confidants.

Exhibit A: Friendship

And I discovered astrology and tarot. I know I shouldn’t put weight on the positions of heavenly bodies or drawings on some cardboard, but I find both these things give me insight and different perspectives on situations. I can look at a card and say, “oh, maybe I am being a bit too idealistic.” or look at the sky and think, “Mercury’s in retrograde, probably a bad day to hold a presidential election.”

Note: I did not hold any presidential elections in 2011.

So, the year was okay. I’ll give it a 6.5/10, which is the same score I gave Breaking Dawn Part 1. It’s okay, but I won’t be going out of my way to experience it again. Also the end wasn’t well thought out.

And that’s the end of that chapter.

The secret hobby

At work, we’re exploring stepping into the world of social media! I’m super excited about it. I was thinking “I can’t wait to have the opportunity to blog about something!” and then I realised that I’ve had the opportunity the whole time over here. Except that blog is “fresh” and “meaty” and isn’t “already covered in my own saliva”.

Qué?

So here I am, approaching you, slightly hunched, head bowed forward, hand in the air in what is not quite a wave, not quite a salute - almost in surrender… but not quite.

Nothing is ever quite!

Don’t be mad, I’m here now. We should cherish these moments we have together – because I’m flakey and who knows when I’ll next feel inspired?

Hopefully soon. I like blogging. I secretly consider it my hobby, but only secretly because I openly whinge about not having any hobbies.

Whinging about not having any hobbies is one of my hobbies.

Nice nest ;)

The other day I was in JB HiFi talking to the sales representative about printers. He was discussing the wireless connectivity of printers and he was going on about how he connected to it easily at his house, well, his parents' house, he recently had to move back in and...

And as he was talking I felt a surge of empathy. I recently moved back in with my parents and I knew what he was going through. It's your home, but it's not really your home anymore, but you managed to mess up being an adult enough that your 'rents let you back in the nest.

I mean, it's hard, what with "the economy" and "being a Gen Y", a lot of people my age seem to be reluctant to leave the nest. It's like being on a treadmill. Or running around the block and ending up where you started. Or picking up a bottle of water and putting it back down again. I'm exercising a lot lately so my analogies are limited.

It's weird, when I lived out of home I always got confused about what to call "home". I'd tell people I'm at home and they'd go to my place and I'd have to apologise because "I meant my parents' place". And now that I actually live at home, I call it my parents' place.

I'm glad I have such supportive parents that have allowed me move back into their home when things got tough. I know being 26 and living at home is a bit lame, but knowing my family loves me and is willing to figuratively hold my hand until I'm ready to figuratively walk on my own two feet without training wheels swivelling around my own two ankles, well, that's slightly less lame.

Slightly.

Senti mental panda

Confession! I’m a bit of a hoarder. I struggle to let go of my possessions. I think it’s because to me they become more than things, they become these tangible memories. If I let go of them I’ll be losing a part of my past, of myself, forever.

I still have a garbage bag from year 6 because we were going on youth trek and it looked like it was going to rain, so the teacher got the boy I had a crush on to hand out garbage bags to keep us dry.

Tldr: I’ve kept a garbage bag for 14 years because a boy I liked touched it!

Last weekend I moved back in with my parents and was hit with a devastating blow (more devastating than extreme-drama-moving-with-ultra-hysterics, which I seem to be an expert in now). I’ve gone from having two wardrobes to one!

So the boot of my car is now full of memories, which I’ll be handing over to the Salvos for their second life. Actually, I buy everything from the Salvos in the first place, so it’s probably their third or fourth lives.

Point is: I own too much. I think I’m scared of not having, “it’s better to have and not need than need and not have.” But it’s ridiculous when your drawers are so full you don’t even know what you have anymore. It gets messy and un-manageable, a reflection of my inner state: I seem to hoard my emotions, then come to points in my life where I have so many pent up feelings that I don’t know where put them, and they explode. Everywhere. Then I end up breaking real things, like plates and friendships.

So I’m feeling good. It’s kind of cathartic to be letting go of something voluntarily. This is a new phase and I’m excited about opening myself up to new things, rather than clinging madly to the old.

I’ll miss weeping for the memories though.

Cheaper than the bus

Imagine it is 12am and you’re in your car sitting at some traffic lights when some chick opens the passenger door and sits in the passenger seat and asks for a lift to somewhere totally out of your way. Do you:

(a) Confidently tell her to GTFO.
(b) Hesitantly say sure.
(c) Scramble out of the car saying “take it man, take it all” and throw money at her and then run to the nearest police station.

Well, I chose (b). Most people I tell this story to say “WTF Sam, why didn’t you kick the bitch out?” Well, in hindsight I wish I had, but I felt really awkward and I didn’t want to be rude.

So I was out in Civic that night to pick up my at-the-time boyfriend. I wasn’t out with him because I was battling a cold, but when he called me asking for a lift home I couldn’t say no. So I got up and dressed and started driving out to Civic. It was buzzing that night and I couldn’t find him so I was circling around a lot. When I was stopped at one set of lights this girl jumps into my car asking for a lift to Belconnen. Even though I was supposed to be going to the South Side I figured it would only be about 15 minutes out of the way; it would be my contribution to society, my civic duty, my arc de triumph.

Probably not the last one.
Still, I thought I’d be putting some positive energy into the world, so I said yes.

So I went looking for my (now ex) boyfriend, eventually he found me and jumped into my car, along with two of his mates. It was news to me I was taking them home too, but I wasn’t going to let them feel awkward or be stranded in the city, so I greeted them and started driving.

I decided to take Belconnen girl home first, even though the boy’s friends were in the opposite direction, in Queanbeyan, (which isn’t even in the same state.) So I headed out west to Belco, but this girl wasn’t telling me to take any of the turns... so I kept going... and going... and ended up in Dunlop.

I was a bit miffed that she didn’t tell me she meant the extreme limits of Belconnen, but being the timid pushover I am I didn’t say anything.

When she got out of the car she kept insisting she pay me and I was like “oh, nah, it’s fine, don’t worry about it”, happy that a good deed is its own reward. But she kept insisting saying “just say what you think is fair”. So I thought about it, and though it didn’t come close to covering the time or petrol it took to get a car full of people out to the edge of Canberra, I said $10.

She handed me $1.70.

I don’t think I’ve ever felt so cheap or so used. That doesn’t even cover a bus ticket - a concession bus ticket at that!

So I got back in my car and was like “well, that was weird” and I told the carful of people what had happened. Well, the two of the people in the back were like “whoa, that girl is rude” but my (now-ex-for-partly-this-reason) boyfriend was outraged.

“I can’t believe you didn’t know her!”
“Who gives someone they don’t know a lift?”
”I would never ever put my friends second like that!”

He basically consistently berated and humiliated me in front of his friends, who I didn’t even know I was giving a lift to, the entire way to their place. And anyone who knows Canberra would know that the trip from Dunlop to Queanbeyan is not a short one.


So, that took away any possibility of those good charitable feelings I was envisioning earlier. I felt cheap, used and humiliated. I took him home and drove myself to my place and cried myself to sleep 2 hours after being woken up earlier for the worst errand of my life.