Hello? Are you still out there?
We made it home safe and sound... erm, 3 months ago. It was weird getting home, I thought it would be a culture shock having to stay in one place more than 5 days but no. It was as if Europe never happened.
I started back at my old work place, in an entry level position, 2 days a week, and I started working from sun up to sun down the other 5 days a week on building my nail business and... now we're here. Quite literally.
Christmas Day marked the first day where I didn't work at all, which means I worked 87 days in a row. The 2 weeks before Christmas I didn't even have time to run the business, I was so busy actually DOING nails from 8.30am until 9, 10 or even 11pm. At one point I thought I might burn out, but I soldiered on, and the only thing that slowed me down was the fact that I started melting the skin off my hands.
I've always had mild reactions to Acrylic Liquid when I've been exposed to it for long periods of time - usually the week before Christmas when even as a part time Nail Tech I would work 5pm-11pm every night. I didn't do a lot of Acrylic work immediately before Christmas though, with natural nail and Colour Gloss services taking over. It wasn't until my hands split open that I stoped to think about all the Nail Polish Remover I was using.
The first bad cracks were almost a month ago now. The worst was when I couldn't touch ANYTHING because my hands itched and burned simultaneously and constantly. Courtney has been doing up my pants, cutting up my food and feeding the dog for weeks now because I simply couldn't. It didn't stop me doing nails though - splint on the worst split finger, cotton gloves to protect me from the rubber gloves, then rubber gloves on top and I kept doing nails. A new business can't say no to clients.
And so now after 5 days of no nails my hands are dry and wrinkled and peeling BUT not itchy and not sore. I can manage my Dermatitis and Psoriasis from here on out.
I'm having to schedule time to actually run the business and run my household too, so I don't end up having a meltdown over pulling myself in 20 directions.
This year I will go to bed at a normal time so that I can get up at a normal time and brush my hair every day instead of hurriedly knotting it on my way to a client. I will clean my house daily so it doesn't get into an unmanageable state and I will do my business admin straight after for the same reason. THEN I'll book Nail Appointments in.
I can do this! Any tips?
PS I'm here https://www.facebook.com/MonacoNailArtists if you want to see what I've been up to :)
Showing posts with label self reflection. Show all posts
Showing posts with label self reflection. Show all posts
Monday, January 2, 2012
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Longing Swings in Roundabouts
Rides in Italy feel so short. Prior to Venice, ride days were usually a minimum of 6, maximum of 10 hours (including stops, not on the bike non stop). After Venice we spent a couple of weeks riding only to the next ferry terminal and since then the rides have been around 3 hours. We don’t even really need a rest in that time, such as we are used to long rides. The 5 minutes we are off the bike when we fill the tank half way are enough to keep us going to our destination. We find ourselves leaving later than normal and still arriving at a time that feels early.
When we rode from Sorrento to Rome, the ride was pretty easy – until we got to Rome itself. You are well aware how much we love, or rather loathe our GPS and despite there being a ring road around the city (which we didn’t find out about until later), it took us through the centre of town. We missed driving past the Coloseum by a block but we rode past the Roman Forum, Circus Maximus and across the river. It was by this time the hottest time of day and of course in the city centre there are stupid numbers of traffic lights where we have no choice but to sit in direct sunlight in all our protective layers. Courts was not happy, even after he passed his jacket to me and rode the last half hour in a singlet.
When we did eventually make it to camp, there were a couple of surprises waiting for us though – when we checked in, they handed us a key. We didn’t really understand why they did so, just drove in the direction they told us to, looking for our tent site. What we found was that we had unknowingly booked a ‘tent house’ – essentially a cabin, but with walls made of tent material. In terms of what we normally pay for camping, it was on the high side, but not over the top. Either way, since we had booked it, we had budgeted for it, and it was all ours – real beds, lockable door and all – for 4 nights.
The other nice surprise was that with our tent on the end of the row, we were 3 spaces down from our Aussie friends Richard and Kim - the ones we met in Sorrento – who had ended up at the same campsite as us. After Courts had had a dip in one of the two pools to cool down, we spent the afternoon lying around and the evening at the bar with Richard and Kim.
Conversations of the evening and previous weeks got me to thinking – as the Italian butterfly doesn’t know that it is Italian, and therefore doesn’t long to see how New Zealand butterflies live, it also doesn’t suspend itself in a no-mans land of eternal missing. I had my bouts of homesickness in Sorrento. I’m extremely excited to get home and start expanding my Acrylic Nails business. Now, with the Rugby World Cup starting and RWC Fever plastered all over the internet as well, I miss home. When I get home though, I will no longer live on the road, sleep in my tent, squish onto the bike, and cook on the billy. When I walk into a restaurant and look for a powerpoint, the action will be redundant – I’ll have plenty of those at home. Weeks will be punctuated by weekends instead of long rides to new destinations. I’m going to miss travelling.
It was the same when I lived in Australia – in Aussie, I missed New Zealand, but when I returned to New Zealand I missed Australia. Richard and Kim have been in London for several years and will have a few days there post-Italy before they make the big move back home. They talk of how excited they are to go back to London and visit their friends and see and do familiar things, yet they of course also miss their families in Aussie. In Sorrento we talked to an American couple who had lived in Switzerland for a year. Now on their way home, they spoke of missing Switzerland.
We are spoiled for choice but in taking advantage of it we open ourselves up to yet more longing. Instead of longing for the unknown, we know more of what there is to miss. Unlike the friends we have made, for us we won’t miss countries – we move too often for that – but the bike and the tent and our new habits are home now.
Time to explore Rome so we can miss that too.
Monday, September 5, 2011
Italian Butterflies Don't Know They Are Italian
A few weeks ago, we were riding through Italy in the early hours of the morning, as movement in the cities slowly roused the sun from sleep. We were on our way to the ferry at Ancona, ready for the overnight trip to Greece. There is little to do on the bike except think. I often think about my business at home doing acrylic nails and training new technicians to do the same. I come up with ideas for marketing or expansion and I often write them down on the phone when I have a moment free from GPS.
Other times, I do a lot of reflecting – on mistakes I’ve made, ways I have changed, people I’ve hurt, other people I have just lost touch with. It is easy to get swept up in those thoughts, running through what-if scenarios and wondering what the people I have lost touch with are doing now and what I would say to them if I had the chance. Of course those people are far from the majority and I spend a good deal of time thinking about the people I am close to as well, the people I miss at home.
At this particular point I was thinking about my Mum and sister and how far away from each other we are at the moment. It is a romantic notion in many movies and books to think of seeing the same stars as each other but I realized at that point, that we don’t. When I lived in Australia, it was easy to look up at the same constellations as them and know we weren’t that far apart if we could see the same things. From the northern hemisphere though, those southern constellations are nowhere to be seen. It made me feel even further apart from them and, sat on the back of the bike with the sun starting to rise behind me, I sent quiet messages to the moon for them.
It’s funny the things you see and think of when your mind is on a journey of its own, having wandered with little to do for several hours. In Italy again, but weeks later and on the opposite side, a tiny white butterfly landed amongst the overgrowth as we rode past. An Italian butterfly, exactly the same as the butterflies that nibble on vege gardens at home. He has no idea he is Italian, or that other butterflies that look just like him are living differently on the other side of the world. Maybe they’re not. Maybe when you’re that small and that close to the flowers, overgrowth is all the same.
He has no idea that his life could be different. Neither do the dogs that lie in the shade of the Acropolis. They don’t know that they are sleeping on marble that has been there over 2,000 years, that has had emperors and pilgrims and warriors and mothers walk on it, that has seen death and blood and storms and destruction, war and peace, love and spite. Imagine the things the Acropolis has seen. 2,000 years of change. Imagine the time lapse video you would see if the Acropolis had been filming all that time, the rise and fall of times and eras, the expansion of Athens, the arrival of tourists.
Imagine for a second, that the Parthenon has a stream of consciousness. It was used to store gun powder during the war with Turkey, and a carefully aimed cannonball blew it half to smithereens with no respect for the age and beauty of the structure. The building, had it limbs, would have lost them. All this time later, people care enough to put it slowly back together. Imagine the bloody sacrifices it saw when it was young, and what it must think of the tour groups that trample it every day now. After 2,000 years of such vastly contrasting activities, how could it not look so strong, proud and imposing?
The dog sleeping in the shade knows nothing of this, or why the tourists flock with cameras. He only knows the marble is cold and the tourists are friendly, and that it’s a long walk down should he choose to leave. Maybe he had a home once, as many Athenian strays did, but he knows nothing of the activities of a dog on a farm in New Zealand. He might be curious as to what the dinnertime smells are, coming from the homes of Plaka, below his marble bed, but he has no inclination to travel to lands unknown. It is really only humans that travel and migrate for pleasure rather than necessity.
The kitten born at a campsite in Santorini knows the human inclination to travel, very well. He will probably never figure out though, why the humans that feed and play with him, all speak different words to him. He won’t learn a name, like the dogs up the path won’t learn to sit or stay or shake. There is no consistency in the words spoken to them, no chance to learn. They remain deaf to any understanding, trapped in their species more than any domestic dog at home.
My dog, Toby can pick up words in amongst sentences of human conversation. He will question them, wonder if they apply to him, ask for clarification. No, we will tell him, we were talking about walking to the shop, not the park. He will pick up the general idea of what we are saying, recognizing some words and the tones of voice they carry. Similar to us in France. We picked up words, we could communicate, we heard vocal tone with more clarity than ever before, by necessity. The Santorini strays will never have the awakening of that same understanding.
It is only the human level of communication and understanding that allows us to learn and question the big bad world, grow curiosities like they were daisies and pick away at them one by one. And yet, riding on the back of a motorbike at 5am, we might still send messages to the moon, and while knowing they won’t, secretly hope they make it back down again, and land in our loved ones arms.
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Copying the Older Kids
One thing I’ve noticed about Europe is how ‘behind the times’ it is. It seems strange to even think that sentence let alone write it. Europe came first in a lot of ways and if anything, we’ve seen through the castles, aqueducts and artifacts just how ahead of the times it has always been.
When I think of Europe as being behind; I’m comparing it to other places. For a start, I’m comparing it to home, but for home to be ‘ahead’ or even just ‘on time’, it has to be compared to something else, right? America.
In New Zealand, we have a lot of American programming on TV. We have our own, we have British, we have Australian, but we have a lot of American. The cinemas are full of American movies, the food courts are full of American take away foods. When you grow up watching Americans be American on TV, it has to affect the idea of ‘normal’ that’s in your head.
I thought that almost all truck stops in the world had a McDonalds. If you go on a long car trip in New Zealand, you will pass by McDonalds a lot, and it features prominently at truck stops. In New Zealand we are often last to get anything from fast food to movies to electronics, because we are so small and far away. If little New Zealand has a Maccas at every truck stop, then I thought most of the truck stops in the developed world must too.
Turns out I was wrong. Europe, or at least the countries we’ve seen so far, has seemingly less McDonalds outlets than we do at home. Truck stops either have an AutoGrill, which is a self service buffet eatery, or an independent outlet.
It makes sense now that Europe is by far big enough to have its own chain stores and that McDonalds might not feature so prominently. I’ve only been to America and Australia before this, and America is full of McDonalds, and Australia is about the same as New Zealand. In my head this meant that anything that arrived in New Zealand had already conquered everywhere else first, and to the same degree, before bothering with New Zealand.
Another example is acrylic nails. Of course being a nail technician myself, I pick up on any salons we pass but the truth is, we don’t pass many. In America, Australia and New Zealand, acrylic nails are common and so are places that do them. At home a lot of hair salons also do nails and other than that you have a range of places from specialist high end nail salons to the super cheap in-and-out nail bars that pollute our shopping malls.
We haven’t been in a lot of shopping malls but I’ve seen one in-and-out nail bar and that was on a street, and we see a few higher end places (which are expensive) around the place but far fewer than at home. Definitely far fewer girls have nails on.
America was definitely the first place that nails first became a trend so maybe it is that we watch America, and we see what they do and that seems like what normal people do and so we copy them? I’m obviously generalizing here because not everyone at home has acrylic nails and eats McDonalds, but certainly a higher concentration of people than in the European countries we’ve been through. London was probably the closest to home, and since leaving London the most made-up girls we’ve seen have been British or Australian tourists.
Don’t get me wrong, when you compare New Zealand to America, they’re very different. We have some of their products, but the cultures and countries are different in almost every way. When you add Europe to the mix though, it’s easier to see similarities. We of course have many similarities with Europe and if I had already been to Europe and was now in America I could write the exact same post from the opposite angle. What I’m noticing right now though, from my current perspective, is that beyond the British Royal family gracing our magazine covers and the fish n chips dinners and pub food we enjoy, New Zealand has adapted quite a few American practices that Europe hasn’t bothered with. It’s not a positive or a negative necessarily, but it is interesting.
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Sunday, July 24, 2011
Five Weeks Down
5 Weeks down, 10 to go – we are a third of the way through our trip. I’m happy with that because it’s not half way which means the majority is still to come. Everyone said it would go really fast but honestly it hasn’t. Every day is filled with so much to see and do. And we’re never rushed, it’s just that we’re generally up and about by 10 at the latest and often not home again until 10pm. Although we miss TV and books and it’s a constant battle between wifi and power supply, these things mean we have no choice but to explore and experience.
I keep a very tidy house because if I didn’t, tent life would become unbearable. I need to at least know where to find everything. But it takes me two minutes to clean my whole house and it takes Courtney (in all honesty it’s usually him) 2 minutes to rinse the dishes.
I do the majority of the tent putting up and taking down. It’s only fair, because Courts does all the riding, but in keeping with the honesty thing it’s also just because I’m faster at it and anyone who knows Courts knows how easily he gets distracted. I’d put money on the fact I could have the tent down and bike packed in the time it takes him to get dressed and brush his hair. Actually, that would be an unfair bet because I’ve done it before. Bless him.
In the tent, everything has it’s place. Kind of. Food goes in one corner, our sleeping mats go side by side lengthways along the door, and the back wall is lined with 4 of our 5 bags/cases – a pannier full of clothes, a bag that fits our two toilet bags and the first aid kit, the tank bag that contains all our valuables and a second pannier that contains everything else. Our helmets sit on top somewhere and the rest of our gear lives in the awning of the tent. None of our clothes get folded and nothing has an exact home. But the organized chaos is our little piece of the world – other than the suitcase that marks our place in Monty and Nurse B’s spare room, it’s the only home we have, our little tent.
I was thinking the other day how nice it will be the next time we go camping post-Europe. Despite looking forward to the luxuries of home, it would be nice to be back in our little tent temporarily. But then I remember the panniers and bags belong to the bike hire people and our little (big) bike isn’t really ours. At least the tent is.
Courts favourite stop so far has been Galway, mine San Sebastian. We both loved Beauvoir and wish we had time to explore Bordeaux. France is awesome. We both think London was the best city, although Barcelona is coming up close behind and I did really like Dublin. As much as I looked forward to Paris, we both thought it was overrated, although I think it would grow on me if I had more time there.
If I did the trip again, I’d go back to all the same places, except I’d swap Benicassim and FiberFIB for Madrid and Sonisphere. I wish I’d had longer in Beauvoir, we both do, and in Sant Mateu. If we weren’t pinned down by the time between San Fermin and Wacken, I’d spent more time in Spain.
The small towns we stop in during long rides are the best parts of the trip. San Fermin was definitely the craziest fun. BioParc was probably the best attraction, although Courts would probably challenge it with the Guiness factory. Eddie Rockets still holds the crown for best food. Courts is yet to find a paella that’s better than the one he had at home. We love Sangria. The Squirrels in Hyde Park would be the best free thing we’ve done, if you don’t count to 2 pounds we paid for peanuts to feed them.
We’re heading back into France next so we’ll have to swap our Si’s for Oui’s and our Gracias’ for Merci’s. Courts is very excited about Amsterdam and then of course Wacken which is only a week and a half away now. I’m unsure if we’ll make it to the Pont du Gard which will suck if we don’t, and I’m thinking our trip to Prague will be more adventurous than planned (or unplanned as the case may be). The thing I’m most looking forward to now is the Amalfi Coast and Tuscany, when we get to Italy. But that’s ages away, we’re onto a very Courtney leg of the trip now, it’s going to be a goodun.
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Monday, May 30, 2011
When Looking Good is Feeling Good Too
There’s been a really crappy bi-product of all this Europe planning. I’ve let myself go. I’m not old, married nor do I have children, but I've still ‘let myself go’.
I’m going to blame the Long Haired Boy, because I can do that and until he reads this, I’ll get away with it. I can blame him because he’s the one who broke my GHD hair straighteners. Sure, it was me that left them on the floor next to the bed but that’s where they always were. And OK, so I was the one that dropped my clothes on them meaning they couldn’t be seen… I still maintain the breakage was his fault. He still has them, 6 months later, two separate pieces joined only by a singular wire, swearing he will fix them. I’m saving extra to buy new ones in Europe, where they’re cheaper. Without GHDs, my very thick, wavy, unruly hair gets put up in a knot. I hate it being in my way, I rarely last an entire day with it out and untied. Unless it’s straightened first, there’s no hope of doing anything with it. But saving for Europe doesn’t allow for new $300 toys.
Around the same time, the Eyebrow Goddess left me. Her name was Lauren, and she was amazing. She did the best tint and shape of my life and I ended up referring a ridiculous number of people to her and seeing her every 4 weeks for the best part of a year. One day, I got caught up at work and completely forgot to walk down for my appointment. A week later, my boss told me she had gone. New owners stood in her place and they just weren’t the same. I unashamedly stalked her on Facebook and messaged her asking which salon she had moved to. I’m guessing she didn’t love me as much as I loved her because she never replied. Without her, my eyebrows grew out blonde (I colour my naturally blonde hair dark red/black) and the few times I had them shaped, the weird $8 wax ladies at the mall did terrible jobs. I could have searched for a new Eyebrow Goddess, but what if they weren’t the same? I really needed to save for Europe anyway.
Last year, I lost touch with my hairdresser, someone who had been a friend before she was ever in charge of my hair, but who my ex got custody of when we broke up. Despite personal differences, she is the best hairdresser I know and will probably ever know. I could tell her to do anything she liked to my hair and it would turn out amazing. One of the perks of our friendship was mate’s rates, and without those I couldn’t afford anyone that would do anywhere near as good a job as her. Out came the supermarket colour boxes. My shower turned red, and my roots stayed blonde a lot longer than they had ever been allowed to before. I needed to save for Europe.
I ran out of moisturiser and didn’t buy more because there was a new bottle packed for Europe and what was the point of buying another one for a few weeks? I needed to save for Europe. My razor is blunt and takes ages so while I’m not so far gone that I don’t use it at all, a blunt razor combined with sleeping in and freezing mornings means I don’t use it as often as I could. The new ones are packed for Europe and what’s the point of buying more before we go? I need to save.
If I won Lotto tomorrow, I would go and get my hair coloured, get a conditioning treatment put through, get it professionally straightened. I’d buy a new GHD and the heat-protectant I’ve never bothered with because I ‘couldn’t afford it’. I’d get my eyebrows tinted and waxed. I’d get my eyelashes tinted, or even better, I’d get extensions. If it was a really big win, I’d get my eyeliner tattooed on. I’d get a make up artist to teach me how to do make up properly, and I would buy every product she recommended. I’d get a facial, deep exfoliation, and then I’d buy every Dr Lewinn’s skincare product on the market. I’d buy the best smelling body wash I could find, not the best value for money. Same with shampoo and conditioner, I’d get the fancy ones they sell at salons. I’d get my teeth whitened. I’d have the most expensive nail tech I could find do my nailsfor me, instead of me doing them for everyone else. I’d get my legs waxed and not worry about shaving for weeks on end. Better yet, I’d get laser hair removal.
I would look my best and in turn, I would feel my best. I don’t at the moment, feel my best. And as much as it is the stress and the tiredness and the sugar, it’s the look. Boys, you probably won’t get it. Girls, I know at least… all… of you know what I mean. I can’t feel amazing unless I at least made an effort to look it. While I don’t need the IPL and the teeth whitening and the whole lot, when I get back from Europe, I’m going to make an effort. The first time I make a profit as a self employed woman, this is what I’m treating myself to - anything I’ve just listed.
I shouldn’t complain. I should do something about it, get over myself and just start making an effort.
Is it wrong that I feel like there’s no point trying until I have a GHD? It’s an obsession.
What makes you look and feel your best?
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
There's Something I've Forgotten...
There is a rational, logical and 100% backed-by-experience worry plaguing the depths of my mind. All you organisers and list-makers out there, I know that you know how I feel. I’m talking about the expectations that non-organised people have for us. The irrational and illogical expectations they have for us.
I firmly believe the world can be split into two halves. Just as we speak of the haves and the have-nots, and of all the more serious divisions of society, we should also be aware of the evil that lurks on the border or organisation-ville and oh-am-i-late?-land.
Imagine a sitcom-ready dream sequence as I take you back a few weeks to moving day. By 11am I was in tears. Most likely bought on by the stress of the day, but triggered by the fact that everyone kept grumping at me when I didn’t know the answers to their endless questions. Yes there was a slight communication break down when I thought Mum had sorted the what-went-where and she thought I had, but because I had packed every last box, paid the bills, organised the bond refund and sorted our moving to Monty’s, everyone presumed I knew exactly what box went where and when and how. We had a van, we had two locations (my sisters garage and Mum’s storage locker) and we had a pile of boxes and some furniture. I thought since I’d done everything else, it would all fall into place on the day. Alas, it did not.
I’d like to take this opportunity to point out the biggest benefit of being a non-organiser - Not a single grump fell in Courtney’s direction, because everyone knew he didn’t know the answer. In terms of organisation, Courts and I are chalk and cheese. Amongst his many talents, you will not find a list or plan in sight. So Courts, although still stressed by his hatred for moving in general, glided happily through the still blue water of low-expectations. Since everyone knew he wouldn’t know, they asked me. They presumed I knew everything and then when I didn’t, it was my fault. Hence, after several grumps and a lot of misdirected stress, I at 25 years of age had a cuddle with my Mum and a cry about how everyone was just so mean.
Step back and take a good long look at the panorama view of August 2010 to now. If you look closely – actually, even if you squint and turn your head to the side – you will see that I have done the majority of planning for Europe. It’s not that I have controlled it all – Courtney has been in on every decision. Disneyland or not? Disneyland. Santorini or Mykonos? Santorini. Valencia or Alicante? Neither, San Sebastian. Now, ask him to put those decisions in a logical order and I’ll wish you luck and turn back to Teen Mom 2 (Oh, car crash TV at it’s best!). This boy, the love of my life, knows that at some point we are doing these things. But, with his memory he probably doesn’t recall the Valencia-Alicante debate, he just knows we’re going to the Running of the Bulls. It’s not for lack of trying. He researched Umbria last week. He tried searching for a bike to hire. He’s found videos of the roads of the Amalfi Coast to ‘prove’ they’re safe to ride (I’m unconvinced).
This isn’t a moan at my beloved. At times I wish he knew more about our plans, but he has his strengths and I have mine. It will all even out in the wash when he controls the bike for 12,000kms. The point I’m slowly getting to, is that because he knows I’m organised, he expects me to be super organised. Had I travelled to London myself, I would have got off the plane and found a way to the hostel at the time, as I did in America. When we get off the flight, it will be midnight and Courts will be tired and he will turn to me and say ‘How are we getting to the hostel?’ expecting me to have all the answers. If I don’t have an answer, my poor tired Long Haired Boy won’t be at the best end of the patience stick, and so I have overplanned.
Contrary to popular belief I don’t like to plan every last detail. What I like is doing and because I am over-excitable and impatient, planning is the closest thing to doing and therefore I plan while I wait for the doing part. Despite not loving to plan the little details, I know exactly how we are getting from the plane to the hostel. I know our check in details and they’re bound with all our other check in details in a folder (a beautiful, highlighted folder). This is because of that worry plaguing the depths of my mind, which in turn goes back to those pesky little expectations. I am not a genius, or superman, or God. I have forgotten something. I don’t know what it is, or how many ‘it’s I’ve forgotten (please let it only be a few) but at some point, some time, Courts will turn to me and say ‘what now?’ and I won’t know.
Although he can be grumpy, I need to give Courts more credit. It is my own experiences from all areas of life that lead me to expect to get in trouble for not knowing things. All things. Cross all your fingers and toes for me, dear readers, that the thing I’ve forgotten isn’t too difficult to fix on the fly. As an organiser, do you understand my worry? Or if you live on the other side of the organisational fence, have you ever been guilty of high expectations for the listmakers in your life?
Monday, May 2, 2011
Nothing Ever Goes to Plan
I woke up feeling sick today. Full on shakes and nausea. I'm not ill, I'm stressed and I'm sad. It was supposed to be such an exciting weekend - moving all our furniture into storage and Izzy the cat to Soul Buddy's house. Not exciting to have no furniture and no cat but definitely exciting to be one step closer to Europe.
Saturday morning started with an argument. I've never moved house with the Long Haired Boy before and therefore I never knew he Hates Moving House. He hadn't really said so before - I should have taken the packing-everything-myself as a sign. I needed him to tell me what in the spare room was still on Trade Me vs going in the bin vs going in a box to go into storage that day. I needed to know these things so that a messy room in reality could be a room I didn't have to worry about in my head. I can't explain how that works. But without knowing that room was all sorted, even as Organised Chaos, I wouldn't have felt like we had everything covered.
Meanwhile, LHB needed a drink of water. He had just surfaced, he's not a morning person, and he's especially not a morning person without a glass of water first, followed by a coffee if at all possible. Just as he couldn't see inside my mind to know why I needed answers now, I couldn't see inside his head to know he wanted to go and get a drink. He got frustrated, I got upset, nasty words were said. Hello, Saturday.
Moving our stuff ended up being even more stress. I had everything packed, I've been sorting, selling, giving away and packing for literally 2-3 months and other than a couple of cupboards in the kitchen that I needed to get more boxes for, I thought everything was sorted. Mum had mentioned having a plan for everything, what stuff was going to my sister's house, what was going into her storage locker. She had also mentioned upgrading the storage locker to a bigger one. I took all of this as gospel but when it came down to it, there were a lot of questions - "Where's this going?" "I thought you knew?" throughout the day.
As the common denominator here, I feel perhaps communication isn't my strong point. I try to talk to people about issues, I try to get everything out and air cleared. I think I do it wrong.
With all the underestimated moving stress, we were running way behind our anticipated timeframes (borrowed Ute had to be back at 11, we finished moving at 5) and Izzy still had to go to Soul Buddy's. SB and her Mister ended up coming to pick him up and off he went, followed by a few tears and then a mad panic to get to Monty and Nurse B's going-away dinner, since along with us moving into their house this weekend comes them flying off to Africa.
The dinner was awesome, a lot of fun with awesome food and great company. SB sent me pxt's and texts all night to keep me updated on Izzy (he didn't miss me at all) and when Courtney's sister and I visited on Sunday morning all was good. He had been a little brat all night trying to escape and keep everyone awake but he was happy, they were happy. Now the other cats had to get used to him and we'd be away laughing.
I went home, did Miss Nails' backfill and then went to find my phone. SB had text, rather upset because her cats had had to be coaxed inside with tuna, then sprayed their territory and run away again. We all came to the conclusion that Izzy should have been segregated for awhile first to allow them to get used to the smell and introduce them all slowly, but that's not what happened, so now we need to deal with the situation. Izzy is shut in the spare room on his own. He is happy enough, he is a very chilled cat. But SB feels guilty that she has let me down, I feel guilty that I've stuck her with this mess, and I feel incredibly guilty about Izzy.
I know he's a cat and cats are resilient. But he trusted me, he chose to live with me, he let me cuddle him, he slept on my face (yeah, he does that). I was his owner and he trusted me and I let him down. Think me stupid for feeling this way but I do. I feel immensely bad, that someone, even if it is a fur, trusted me and I let them down. I felt the same way when my dog Holly died while being pet sit and I have felt the same way in human situations. I hate it, I hate letting people down, and I hate that I can't communicate with Izzy and explain to him why this is all happening and that it will all be OK in the end.
Will it though? We now have to find a new home for Izzy. The poor little fur has to deal with another new house, new family, possibly new pets to be introduced (slowly) to and another car ride. Monty and Nurse B have said there is potential he might be able to come with us after all. He wasn't originally because they have 2 cats and a dog and we are adding Toby to the mix and that is quite a lot of fur for one 3 bedroom house. Monty's cat Dee hasn't taken well to the blended-family vibe though and a month or so after moving into Nurse B's with Monty, still hasn't come out from under the bed. She doesn't like dogs. So Dee might be on her way to Monty's Mums house and that might mean Izzy can come with us and (slowly) meet Jimmy the dog and Njaro the kitten. If he can't, and at the slightest hint that he can't I won't take him, because Monty and Nurse B are doing us a big enough favour already, then I don't know what to do.
I was relying on there being a car to take Izzy to SB's house on Saturday and there wasn't, so they had to pick him up to allow him a full weekend to get used to everything with them at home. I relied on other people for the cars and therefore I let SB and Mister down when I couldn't meet my obligations of dropping him off. Everyone on moving day was bitching at me for not knowing where everything was going because I'm the organised one therefore I should know everything. I relied on Mum saying she had it sorted and by doing so I let Mum, her partner and Courtney down. I'm relying on Monty and Nurse B to look after not only Toby but us and now they might have to do even more by taking Izzy in. I hate relying on people and I hate that I'm putting my friends, who are doing us favours left right and centre, in these positions and letting them down.
It all came to a head when Courtney got home from one place en route to band practice, running late, and came home to me stressed about Izzy. I was extremely stressed and inconsolable and had no idea that he also was feeling a bit down. Queue another big fight, more tears, more blame and more nasty words and then an evening sat in bed, alone, with the laptop, not knowing how to install Digg buttons or anything else required for a successful blog, marvelling at how much more successful 'everyone else's blogs are, 'everyone else's relationships are and 'everyone else's lives are.
No one that writes a perpetual-travel blog ever tells you about the Mourning Period. They don't tell you that when everything is packed and all the furniture is in storage you grieve. LHB and I both feel sad and a little empty and we are probably taking it out on each other, unfairly of course. These big changes are supposed to be exciting, they lead to everything we have dreamed of, saved for and planned for in the last 6 months. Instead I feel like my little life that all my money and time and energy has gone into for the last 6 years is gone. My cat is gone, my stuff is gone and I'm living in a shell of a house waiting for that to be gone too. I want to be excited but instead all I feel like doing is throwing up and then curling in a ball and waiting for it all to sort itself out.
No one warned me it would be like this. But I guess that would be me relying on other people for warnings too, wouldn't it.
Saturday morning started with an argument. I've never moved house with the Long Haired Boy before and therefore I never knew he Hates Moving House. He hadn't really said so before - I should have taken the packing-everything-myself as a sign. I needed him to tell me what in the spare room was still on Trade Me vs going in the bin vs going in a box to go into storage that day. I needed to know these things so that a messy room in reality could be a room I didn't have to worry about in my head. I can't explain how that works. But without knowing that room was all sorted, even as Organised Chaos, I wouldn't have felt like we had everything covered.
Meanwhile, LHB needed a drink of water. He had just surfaced, he's not a morning person, and he's especially not a morning person without a glass of water first, followed by a coffee if at all possible. Just as he couldn't see inside my mind to know why I needed answers now, I couldn't see inside his head to know he wanted to go and get a drink. He got frustrated, I got upset, nasty words were said. Hello, Saturday.
Moving our stuff ended up being even more stress. I had everything packed, I've been sorting, selling, giving away and packing for literally 2-3 months and other than a couple of cupboards in the kitchen that I needed to get more boxes for, I thought everything was sorted. Mum had mentioned having a plan for everything, what stuff was going to my sister's house, what was going into her storage locker. She had also mentioned upgrading the storage locker to a bigger one. I took all of this as gospel but when it came down to it, there were a lot of questions - "Where's this going?" "I thought you knew?" throughout the day.
As the common denominator here, I feel perhaps communication isn't my strong point. I try to talk to people about issues, I try to get everything out and air cleared. I think I do it wrong.
With all the underestimated moving stress, we were running way behind our anticipated timeframes (borrowed Ute had to be back at 11, we finished moving at 5) and Izzy still had to go to Soul Buddy's. SB and her Mister ended up coming to pick him up and off he went, followed by a few tears and then a mad panic to get to Monty and Nurse B's going-away dinner, since along with us moving into their house this weekend comes them flying off to Africa.
The dinner was awesome, a lot of fun with awesome food and great company. SB sent me pxt's and texts all night to keep me updated on Izzy (he didn't miss me at all) and when Courtney's sister and I visited on Sunday morning all was good. He had been a little brat all night trying to escape and keep everyone awake but he was happy, they were happy. Now the other cats had to get used to him and we'd be away laughing.
I went home, did Miss Nails' backfill and then went to find my phone. SB had text, rather upset because her cats had had to be coaxed inside with tuna, then sprayed their territory and run away again. We all came to the conclusion that Izzy should have been segregated for awhile first to allow them to get used to the smell and introduce them all slowly, but that's not what happened, so now we need to deal with the situation. Izzy is shut in the spare room on his own. He is happy enough, he is a very chilled cat. But SB feels guilty that she has let me down, I feel guilty that I've stuck her with this mess, and I feel incredibly guilty about Izzy.
I know he's a cat and cats are resilient. But he trusted me, he chose to live with me, he let me cuddle him, he slept on my face (yeah, he does that). I was his owner and he trusted me and I let him down. Think me stupid for feeling this way but I do. I feel immensely bad, that someone, even if it is a fur, trusted me and I let them down. I felt the same way when my dog Holly died while being pet sit and I have felt the same way in human situations. I hate it, I hate letting people down, and I hate that I can't communicate with Izzy and explain to him why this is all happening and that it will all be OK in the end.
Will it though? We now have to find a new home for Izzy. The poor little fur has to deal with another new house, new family, possibly new pets to be introduced (slowly) to and another car ride. Monty and Nurse B have said there is potential he might be able to come with us after all. He wasn't originally because they have 2 cats and a dog and we are adding Toby to the mix and that is quite a lot of fur for one 3 bedroom house. Monty's cat Dee hasn't taken well to the blended-family vibe though and a month or so after moving into Nurse B's with Monty, still hasn't come out from under the bed. She doesn't like dogs. So Dee might be on her way to Monty's Mums house and that might mean Izzy can come with us and (slowly) meet Jimmy the dog and Njaro the kitten. If he can't, and at the slightest hint that he can't I won't take him, because Monty and Nurse B are doing us a big enough favour already, then I don't know what to do.
I was relying on there being a car to take Izzy to SB's house on Saturday and there wasn't, so they had to pick him up to allow him a full weekend to get used to everything with them at home. I relied on other people for the cars and therefore I let SB and Mister down when I couldn't meet my obligations of dropping him off. Everyone on moving day was bitching at me for not knowing where everything was going because I'm the organised one therefore I should know everything. I relied on Mum saying she had it sorted and by doing so I let Mum, her partner and Courtney down. I'm relying on Monty and Nurse B to look after not only Toby but us and now they might have to do even more by taking Izzy in. I hate relying on people and I hate that I'm putting my friends, who are doing us favours left right and centre, in these positions and letting them down.
It all came to a head when Courtney got home from one place en route to band practice, running late, and came home to me stressed about Izzy. I was extremely stressed and inconsolable and had no idea that he also was feeling a bit down. Queue another big fight, more tears, more blame and more nasty words and then an evening sat in bed, alone, with the laptop, not knowing how to install Digg buttons or anything else required for a successful blog, marvelling at how much more successful 'everyone else's blogs are, 'everyone else's relationships are and 'everyone else's lives are.
No one that writes a perpetual-travel blog ever tells you about the Mourning Period. They don't tell you that when everything is packed and all the furniture is in storage you grieve. LHB and I both feel sad and a little empty and we are probably taking it out on each other, unfairly of course. These big changes are supposed to be exciting, they lead to everything we have dreamed of, saved for and planned for in the last 6 months. Instead I feel like my little life that all my money and time and energy has gone into for the last 6 years is gone. My cat is gone, my stuff is gone and I'm living in a shell of a house waiting for that to be gone too. I want to be excited but instead all I feel like doing is throwing up and then curling in a ball and waiting for it all to sort itself out.
No one warned me it would be like this. But I guess that would be me relying on other people for warnings too, wouldn't it.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Are you Living Your Dream Life? Part One: Penny
I was talking to a friend the other day about her job. More so, whether or not it was right for her or not. She's been doing it for years, she's really good at it, but the company isn't super supportive and she isn't able to grow in her role very well. It's time for my dear friend to move on, but where to?
"I can't figure out what I want to do. I've made a decision to stop fluffing around! That is my 1/4 life resolution. Stop fluffing around. Just bloody decide and stick to it. Anything!"
This is where the problem lies. She's not sure what she wants to do, but she has some ideas. Each idea though, requires potential further education, a lot of commitment and potentially some financial restructuring. Whichever she chooses will be a big risk, but is it not a bigger risk to not choose one? My lovely friend is very smart, both academically and in the way of life experience. Her life is filled with very successful relationships, lovely belongings and comfortable routines. The thing is though that for all her happiness she could be so much happier.
It got me thinking. We all know I've been thinking lots about what I'll do for work when I get back and about going to Uni next year, but even I don't really know what I want to be doing. Hearing about her dreams and goals and all the possibilities ahead of her, inspired me. If she inspired me, then surely she'd inspire you too right? I asked her to guest post but she's a little post-shy, so I thought I'd start a series on similar stories and see if any of you want to play too. If you want to guest post, answer the questions below and send them to me through the Contact Me tab. When I post your responses I'll link to your blog or website so please link back!
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| Me (left) and my sister |
What would you do all day, week or year if you were living your dream life?
On a daily basis, heaven for me would be waking up with no alarm clock. I don't mind being woken up by people, just not the alarm, because it means I have somewhere to be and I'd usually rather be somewhere else. Maybe I would be woken up by kids climbing into bed with me. We'd eat fresh fruit and muesli with yoghurt (in my dream life, the children would like this) while sitting outside on the deck in the sun. I'd do the dishes and tidy the house (yes, even in my dream life) and then I'd sit at the computer and do some writing, or I'd do nails for a couple of clients while the children were playing or at play group.
In my dream life, there would be more than one child, but not all my own. I would be fostering, and making a difference to individual lives one at a time. In the afternoon we would go to the park, or we would help at the SPCA or we would do Mums and Kids Pilates classes - just something out of the house. In my dream life, we wouldn't own a TV. I would have dinner ready when Courtney got home and after dinner, eaten all together at the table, I would tutor in Classical Studies or I'd go to singing lessons or I'd do some more writing.
As the days turned into months we would set off on adventures. If I was blessed with foster children, we would explore New Zealand. If we were between foster children, we would take a few months to explore a new country, biological children in tow, a la Soul Travellers.
What would your job be?
I wouldn't have just one. Courtney would have a job that was Location Independent (this is my dream life, not his!) and could be done on the road, or one where he could take a few months off. I would make money from my writing, and from nails when I was home. I could see myself hosting travellers and doing private tours, or teaching new foster caregivers how to do the best job possible. I could make dining tables for people! Most of all I just want to work with under privileged children and make their lives better, even if for a short time, so that they have a little bit more hope or ambition or comfort when they leave me than when they arrived.
Why would it make you happy?
I've only worked in an office for 6 years, and I've loved a lot of it, but I don't want to die having spent over 11520 hours aka 480 days aka 1.3 YEARS of my life (the current tally) sitting behind a desk breathing in air conditioning and ruining my eye sight further with computers and flourescent lighting. I know that a lot of you will have spent a lot longer than that doing the same thing. But if I keep doing that until I retire at potentially 65, I will have done it for a solid 8.8 years of my life. If I then get hit by a bus leaving the office for the last time, I may as well have died at 57 years of age for all the good the extra 8 years did for me. There's got to be a better way, and I know the things above make me feel the most relaxed and the most happy and the most worth it.
So what's stopping you?
Let's see. I have a nasty personal loan I would like to get rid of. After Europe that is my next goal, to be rid of it once and for all.
I am not ready to have children because I am not a good enough person to be able to teach them everything they need to know by example. I am working on everything I dislike about myself and when I think I have it at least more-sussed-than-I-do-now, I will consider it.
Fostering I haven't been able to do because I have worked full time. Being forced to quit in order to go to Europe is a blessing in disguise. If I build nails up and find other sources of income, I can get my caregivers certificate and start when we have a good house and are a bit more settled. I've always had flatmates too which doesn't allow for fostering, and I do not want them again.
To get the nails thing up and running I will get a nice car with classy ads on it. I will work my butt off to get new clients. I will host nail parties and visit shops and get the sales assistants to wear my nails. I will write whenever I am not doing this. I will pitch my books again and again. I will make my blog the best blog out there.
If you would like to contribute to this series on Dream Lives, I'd love you to! Please use the Contact Me tab to submit your answers to the same questions. I'll post a new one each Sunday now that the Bliss Challenge is over.
Monday, April 4, 2011
Misplaced Value
We I moved out of home at 19, I started building a little life for myself. I had beautiful towels, a brand new lounge suite, bedroom suite, dining suite... I had beautifully mismatched plates each chosen carefully because I loved the design and felt it was a waste to purchase a set that was identical when there were so many to choose from.
When I broke up with my long term boyfriend and my home turned into a shared flat out of necessity, these beautiful things were each sacrificed in some way shape or form. The dresser gained a cigarette burn, the coffee table had to be replaced. The dining chairs fell victim to drunken falls and the plates were chipped by rushed flatmates taking their turn to help wash up.
As much as was lost, was gained. Books were left behind my flatmates moving on, DVDs as well. Dishes dropped in by well-meaning Mums were forgotten in the back of cupboards. Towels were lost amongst the linen cupboard shelves. A dear flatmate moving overseas left us a stereo and DVD player. My home became a container for collected items, all with stories, though not all of them known.
Now, as we prepare to leave the country for 4 months, many of these things find themselves redundant. The value of keeping them is less than the cost of storing them. We will keep a lot of things - our lounge suite stays, as does the dining table and bookcase. Our books, DVDs and Cd's have been halved, some packed, some given away, some sold. The coffee table left to us by a builder flatmate moving for work some 3 years ago, is going to yet another home. The TV cabinet I had custom made to fit my TV and Home Theatre - the first piece of furniture I ever bought - sold for only $10, the appliances it was made for gone long before it.
As much as it is sad watching 5 years of collecting walk out the door one item at a time, the value of these purchases is also bought to question. A buffet cabinet, once used to hold a tank for my two turtles, themselves long gone, sold for $300 5 years after it's purchase for $650. The $10 income from the aforementioned TV cabinet however, didn't come near it's $450 purchase price.
Besides the big ticket items, there are hundreds of smaller things we have accumulated. As I sort through hair clips that each cost $10-15, no one would want them now but me. I might get $1 on Trade Me but chances are I wouldn't even get that. The same goes for knick knacks, plant pots, paint rollers, pots of screws... I don't need any of these things but neither does anyone else. If they do, they will buy new or borrow. So what was the point in spending all that money? This question plays over and over in my head. I feel like I am in time lapse, watching as rubbish bags full of now-valueless hardware, stationery and broken umbrellas pass by and Trade Me members come to the door one by one, taking pieces of my collection away with them.
When I get back from Europe, I think I will be slower to spend money. I shop by impulse and I also always have projects on the go. The paint rollers are from repainting my old bedroom, and I keep them 'just incase', even though I last used them 4 years ago. No more. Out they go. When I get back, will I be so quick to spend, when I have now seen the true value of an item, even new and unused, once it leaves the store shelves? What do I need with all of these things?
I am not a hoarder by any means, I regularly clean out my drawers and cupboards and I thoroughly enjoy it. This collection is a product of projects, not only of myself but of 5 years of flatmates in a 4 bedroom house. And it's worth nothing to anyone but me. I am genuinely saddened to see my things go. Once excited by the potential of a ruthless mega-clean out, I feel a little more empty as my home becomes a shell.
When I broke up with my long term boyfriend and my home turned into a shared flat out of necessity, these beautiful things were each sacrificed in some way shape or form. The dresser gained a cigarette burn, the coffee table had to be replaced. The dining chairs fell victim to drunken falls and the plates were chipped by rushed flatmates taking their turn to help wash up.
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| www.citylifechristianchurch.com |
Now, as we prepare to leave the country for 4 months, many of these things find themselves redundant. The value of keeping them is less than the cost of storing them. We will keep a lot of things - our lounge suite stays, as does the dining table and bookcase. Our books, DVDs and Cd's have been halved, some packed, some given away, some sold. The coffee table left to us by a builder flatmate moving for work some 3 years ago, is going to yet another home. The TV cabinet I had custom made to fit my TV and Home Theatre - the first piece of furniture I ever bought - sold for only $10, the appliances it was made for gone long before it.
As much as it is sad watching 5 years of collecting walk out the door one item at a time, the value of these purchases is also bought to question. A buffet cabinet, once used to hold a tank for my two turtles, themselves long gone, sold for $300 5 years after it's purchase for $650. The $10 income from the aforementioned TV cabinet however, didn't come near it's $450 purchase price.
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| www.sheeplaughs.com |
When I get back from Europe, I think I will be slower to spend money. I shop by impulse and I also always have projects on the go. The paint rollers are from repainting my old bedroom, and I keep them 'just incase', even though I last used them 4 years ago. No more. Out they go. When I get back, will I be so quick to spend, when I have now seen the true value of an item, even new and unused, once it leaves the store shelves? What do I need with all of these things?
I am not a hoarder by any means, I regularly clean out my drawers and cupboards and I thoroughly enjoy it. This collection is a product of projects, not only of myself but of 5 years of flatmates in a 4 bedroom house. And it's worth nothing to anyone but me. I am genuinely saddened to see my things go. Once excited by the potential of a ruthless mega-clean out, I feel a little more empty as my home becomes a shell.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Jack of All Trades, Master of None
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| http://mariamuir.com/ |
Is there something you are really good at? Better than anyone you know? At school I was always seen as one of the smart kids, but I was never amazing at one particular thing. Most of these skills have followed me through to adulthood and I’m still waiting to find my ‘calling’.
I’ve been thinking about it all more and more since this post, when I started to consider what to do post-Europe. I’m a good trainer, and I’m good when I’m training hands-on. I’m best when I’m coaching one-on-one but my biggest strengths are creating training documents and simplifying tricky subjects for easier understanding. I’m not perfect, but the team I work with is amazing and I learn from them everyday. I could really carve out a career for myself in training, but of course every job has its draw backs.
If ever there was a chance for a fresh start, this is it. I find myself looking at my strengths and trying to figure out what to do with them. Of course I am already a Nail Technician in my spare time, and I have a loyal client base. I only have enough lovely ladies to fill my part time hours though, and a lot of them will find other Nail Technicians while I’m away unfortunately. It’s really hard work to build a client base in the beauty industry, but it’s an option.
I’m a good singer and I’ve sung in bands and for events, but I just don’t have the experience. I don’t know the first thing about sound equipment or stage etiquette and this year I haven’t had the chance to pursue any ground in that area. Singing certainly wouldn’t pay the bills but as a fill-in, it’s another option.
I’m artistic, and I can paint and draw reasonably well. Again I’m not amazing, but I enjoy it. I’m a perfectionist though, and that doesn’t mesh well with the idea of finishing an artwork. My too-hard basket is overflowing. Again, I’m never going to be a full time artist, but I could possibly sell one or two pieces.
Of course, I write. I’ve submitted a few pieces to various magazines but to be honest I don’t know the first thing about submission etiquette. Am I supposed to have an agent? Do I approach the publications directly? Do I give them pre-written articles or do they tell me what they want? I’ve had minor successes (more on that in future weeks hopefully) but as with everything I’m good at, it’s an extremely difficult industry to earn money in. I don’t think I’m terrible at it (thank you, readers) but I know I’m indecisive and that can come across in my writing. Yet another thing I can pursue but which will likely never be a career.
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| http://static2.stuff.co.nz/ |
So much potential but nothing I’m amazing at. Slash was born to play guitar. Meryl Streep was born to act. John Grisham was born to write and Neil Armstrong was born to walk on the moon. Some of my teachers at school were born to teach and some were definitely not. Some people were born to run businesses; others just don’t have what it takes. So many people seem to float through the world doing what ‘needs’ to be done and not living.
A blogger I follow, unfortunately I can’t remember which one (if you recognise this please tell me so I can link it) said she asks herself everyday, “If this were your last day on earth, would you be happy with the life you lived?”… It’s not as morbid as it sounds. Think about it. It’s scares the jeepers out of me when I do because although I love my job, I don’t want to die knowing I sat in an office for 11,520 hours (I just worked it out) dreaming about could-be’s.
A lot of the perpetual travellers whose blogs I follow had successful careers with incomes to match, picket fences and ladders to climb before they decided to throw it all in. Courts isn’t a big fan of the idea of perpetual travel. He is an amazing singer and although he’s not in a band at the moment, he does guest spots that he couldn’t do without the many years worth of connections he has here. He could be swayed to live overseas, but I think he’d need a home base rather than to just explore for years on end. I’d be quite happy being a nomad, working for accommodation and getting money from odd jobs around the world. I’d be miserable without Courts though, we’re a team that can’t be broken, so we will need to find a middle ground. In the meantime, I need to find a balance between a job and career I really enjoy and an insatiable curiosity for new adventures and experiences.
Do you know what your ‘calling’ is? Is there one thing you do that you enjoy more than anything and that few people can compete with you in? How did you find it?
Is this what they call a Quarter Life Crisis?!
Is this what they call a Quarter Life Crisis?!
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