goodbye... and hello to a new blog!

The post below will be the last time I post on this blog (aside, of course for this one...) I have started a new blog at the following address, it's a bit different but will probably be more interesting!

http://ash-sixweekchallenge.blogspot.com.au/

Thanks so much for following!

As always, thanks for reading.

Love, Ash xo

How lucky I am to have "Problems"...

Like friggin' clock work! 

Once every six weeks or so I go through the same thought process;

"Spend two years backpacking?"

OR

 "Move to Byron Bay and start pretending to be an adult?" 

... and now there's ANOTHER option too, I had this idea a few years ago but it took a back seat when I realised that it'd cost about $30,000 but...

 "buy a van and travel around Australia for a year, solo"? 

I honestly don't know what to choose! If I had the money it wouldn't be an issue, I'd do it all, but the simple fact is that each of these three options costs money, at least $30,000 each, and making money takes time, making a lot of money takes a lot of time, and I'm not getting any younger!

Decisions mother-fucking decisions! 

Travelling around Australia is something i'd love to do. I always push it to the back of my mind with the reasoning that 'I can do that when I retire", but there is a hugh difference between living in a van at age 26 compared to 60, or older! The thought of discovering a new part of my own country every few days, having a BBQ for dinner every night, making new friends at caravan parks, surfing (or trying to surf) the whole Australian coast line, listening to the radio 24 hours a day, getting lost, not having to work! It's a dream to me. I'm also really lucky in that I am someone who can not only stand to spend time alone, I actually like it. And of course if I ever got lonely I could pull up at a backpacker hostel and see if any other fellow nomads need a ride somewhere. It all sounds so good to me! 

Then, there's the "Pretend to be an adult" option;

I say 'pretend' because I can never actually see myself being a proper adult. I'll never have a wear-a-power-suit-to-work kind of job, I'll never be able to stick to a budget, I'll never get enough sleep, I'll never stop at one beer when I pull up a chair at the pub, I'll always want to own a car from the 1970's over a family wagon, My half-aussie-half brazilian (here's hoping!!) kids will probably eat ice-cream for breakfast most sundays, I'll always have a few sneaky cigarettes, I'll always like tattoos and unsavoury company and the milk in my fridge will probably always be a few days out of date. But as far as growing up goes, Byron Bay is my chosen location. The basic plan here is to Move to the bay, start my 'career' in a creative field (graphic design/photography/writing), live in a little Boho style beach house and save my pennies until at some point I can buy myself a little hobby farm, lease some land to horse owners, have a few of my own pets (Miniature pigs, Miniature goats, a french bulldog, british bulldog, a few ducks and chickens and two rag-doll cats called Thomas and Oliver), a big veggie patch, an old barn that i'll use as a studio and a driveway lined with sunflowers... Eventually I'll get married and have kids, maybe even adopt. But until then I'll rent out the spare rooms to like-minded individuals and spend my time being the Beach Bum's archetype. 

That all sounds so good to me too! 

And lastly, the nomadic dream. Travel the world for two years, a passport, a backpack and a camera... nothing else. 

The plan there is to head to Liverpool, England and work a few months there, spending the daytime reading books in cafes and pubs, trying to keep warm, and the nights serving brandy to interesting old men who have no idea how interesting they really are.

 then I'll head over to L.A and work a few months there, daytimes wasted on famous beaches and famous streets, catching up with old friends I haven't seen in almost a decade. 

From there it's a few months spent weaving my way down through Central and South America, a place I've already been to but didn't see enough of. Surfing, stories... rum.

  Next, I fly over to Africa for a few months; Volunteer with Children, Bungee jump the highest bungee on earth, surf in South Africa, Safari and Search for 'The Big 5'. 

Through Africa I head north and make my way overland to India, through central Asia and then up in to Europe... And make my way to AMSTERDAM! 

I fucking love Amsterdam! I want to live there for three months, at least! The houses, the bikes, the history, the brown cafes, the canals, the house boats, the fashion, the markets, the alleyways, the tulips AND the debauchery ... The place is "my" perfection.

Once I can no longer afford to live there (or once my lungs and liver give out, whichever comes first) I'd head over to either Germany or France and find some work to top up the bank account, then a quick trip to South East Asia before planting my feet back on Australian Soil. 

...and I can't even explain how good that sounds to me...

They only thing I hate about that idea is that I am getting pretty tired of the fact that all my favourite people are spread all over the world.

After a while you get pretty good at 'good-bye's' but that doesn't make them any easier.

I know how lucky I am that my indecision is a 'problem' for me, I know it's silly, but it's a massive pain in my arse! 

So, someone, please just tell me what to do!

Thanks for reading,

Ash, xo

PS;  NO MATTER THE DECISION, I'M STILL HEADING TO MELBOURNE FIRST :)  

Breaking news & Broken hearts...

I've made up my mind, I'm leaving. I don't know when, it could be next week, it may be months, but I am certain that before I depart the country on my two year adventure of nomadic nonchalance I will be departing this little landlocked speck-on-the-map town, for the bright lights and ever exciting city of Melbourne. 

I took a step back from myself the other day to observe the patterns I had been displaying and realised that before I am ever actually aware of the fact that I am ready to leave the familiar for the unknown, my subconscious causes me to perform certain rituals, rituals which I have been acting out over the past few months; I have been sorting through clothes, mending holes and replacing buttons on dresses and jumpers, I have been slowly gathering all my belongings from around my home, wiping them free of dust and gently wrapping the breakables in discarded news papers, placing them in labeled boxes. 

When I was a Child, my family would travel south to the coast almost every weekend, leaving Canberra on a friday afternoon and I remember the arguments my mum and dad would have every thursday night; Mum refused to leave the house to go away unless everything was spotless, her argument being that there is nothing worse than coming back from a relaxing break to a messy home... my dad's argument being that he just wanted to get there. As a result of these arguments, I have confusingly inherited both these ideals, which I think, explains my actions. Before I know that I am ready to leave, I sort, clean, label, organise and ensure that everything is in the perfect condition to abandon so that when I return to them my belongings are ready to be used again right away, I return from my "break" to a clean and orderly "home". This subconscious action serves the purpose of ensuring that when I do come to realise that I am ready to run away/move on/start a new adventure I can then swiftly act out the 'leave right now' mentality of my father, with everything in order, but still feeling as though it was all "on a whim".

And on top of my subconscious finally revealing this new information to me I have also been doing a lot of thinking about why exactly I am still here, and although this is a subject that troubles my mind often I am usually quiet fast to feed myself a bunch of bullshit lies which I know aren't fact but prefer to believe instead of what I know is true. The saying "the truth will set you free, but first it will really piss you off" has never resonated with me more than it does now. And as with all stories of chaos and delusion the star of the plot is a man...Mr.X. 

We've been separated more than a year, though it doesn't feel more than a day. We have been going around and around and around on a dizzying carousel, and as with all carousels, we continue to revisit things, feelings and thoughts we have seen before, but in the long run we are getting nowhere. When you've been on a carousel with someone as long as we have, you begin to fear stepping out alone on to firm ground, certain that you will stumble and fall, without that familiar person to catch you, but I've realised that I don't want to spend my life going around and around, and though I know it's going to fucking hurt, I've got to get off... Sometimes the right thing and the hardest thing are the same...  

From a young age my Mother always told me that I had a very surprising, deep and mature understanding of 'self' when in a relationship. I was always able to see the invisible line between 'us' and 'me', by which I mean I was always capable of spending time away from the person I loved without feeling anxious or like half of a whole. I was always content with myself and confident in the fact that if it was meant to be, it would be. I believed that I shouldn't have to fight for someones love, because in my mind that meant it mightn't be true, but rather forced. I believed and still believe that it needs to be an organic process, no games, no obsession, just love. And when it was no longer a love that shone bright and provided happiness and contentment it was time to gracefully depart with good memories of a good person who was once the voice to which you harmonised. As you know from previous posts I had a hard few years, and during these years I lent on Mr.X and depended on him solely to keep me afloat. In doing this I gradually lost sight of that invisible line and then something happened. I found that I had become a half.

Moving to Melbourne isn't just about finding a new place to discover, It's about rediscovering myself. Being whole on my own.

Deciding that Melbourne would be my new home wasn't necessarily an easy one, thoughts of Byron Bay constantly came to mind as well. However, I am almost certain  that Byron is the place I will call "home" when I land back on Australian soil, so Melbourne won on the basis of caution; If I moved to Byron now, I might just slip in to the life I plan to have on my return, and in turn I would never actually make it overseas for the two years I am planning to. Melbourne is a cities embodiment of the bad boy I yearn to have a fast and passionate affair with, where as Byron is more husband material... so to speak. 

The past few months in Canberra I have been desperately unhappy with the mundane routine that my life has become. Work, study, babysit, jog... and repeat. 

Because I am trying to race through my studies in less than half the time the qualification is usually obtained, I have little time for much else. The staff at the local 24 hour service station are now accustomed to seeing me at 2am (sometimes even 2pm) in my pyjamas raiding the red bull shelf in the drinks fridge.

And my social life? I don't even know what that is... I even had to miss out on my beautiful friends Hens night which was in Sydney over the Mardi Gras weekend. I could really have used a night of debauchery, not to mention to show my gratitude to how much it means that she has been one of the bucket-full of people who have managed to put up with the absence of my participation in social events and still manages to be an encouraging and steadfast friend.

But... for now, I will continue to eat well, practice yoga, do my homework, try to master spanish and keep my mind focused on exactly why I am living a monotonous existence for the time being, right up until the moment I buy a ticket and head south. 

And once there, I will continue to aim for a life less ordinary.

Until next time,

Ash, xo

'One'... it needn't be a lonely number.

On February 14 there are three types of people; Those who love Valentines Day, Those who hate it and those whose opinion is dictated by the status of their relationship. I am a member of the first group. 

In a world where anger and hate and general nastiness are abundant and good deeds and sincerity is sparse, A day that is dedicated to the good emotions is a diamond in a sack of coal. I know the cynics will say that Valentines Day is a marketing strategy by corporations like Hallmark, but I've never bought a Hallmark card in my life, so what do I care?

This year will be my first real solo Valentines day in a decade, but instead of hiding in bed with a box of tissues, a block of chocolate and a sad movie, I'm going to take myself out on a date and surround myself with loved up couples and their idiotic/cute-as-hell smiles. 

Valentines Day is a day dedicated to love, the one day of the year where love trumps hate, and I'm happy to raise my glass to that! 

Now, to change the subject quiet a bit... have you ever heard of "Exploding Head Syndrome"? Well, a brief description of what it is follows;

Imagine laying in your bed after a long day, you've been fighting with your pillows and doona for a few hours now, as you do most nights. Your eyes are heavy and you unknowingly feel yourself slipping through that dimly lit avenue between sleep and awake, when... 

FUCKING BOOOOOOM! 

The loudest, hardest, fastest noise you've heard in your life shoots through your ears, in to your brain and rattles you awake like a shock of 1000 volts.

Your eyes burst open forcing your pupils to contract and then dilate at the speed of light. 

You lay still.

You can hear, even feel your heart in your head.

Your chest rises and falls quickly.

As you begin to calm down your breath steadies. 

Your heart beats slower.

And then your brain pushes a confusing thought to the front of your mind.

You hear your mind telling you with factual justification;

"That noise came from INSIDE my head"

?

"No, your not losing your mind" 

Came my doctors response, which she quickly followed with such words as "Stress", "extreme fatigue", "middle ear" and "seizure"... 

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Exploding_head_syndrome

"Time to be kind to myself" I thought. 

So, in attempt to cure myself, I've dropped one school subject and decided to care less about things in general.

So for the last two weeks I've had a mini holiday from stress. I had a picnics, played a lot of music, did a lot of reading, went to yoga, road tripped to the coast with Mr.X, spent an unusual amount of time in bed, drank too much tea and coffee, did a fair amount of cooking (and eating!!), Painted, played with harmonicas and ukuleles, went for rainy day walks, wrote a lot about nothing, had baths and drank all the alcohol Mr.X and other friends provided me with.

now, it's a strange thing to say, but although I don't feel healthier for it (alcohol, late nights, general laziness and bad food), I definitely feel... well, healthier for it!

So the lesson I learned in the weeks prior to my first solo Valentines Day in almost a decade was... "love". 

Not 'how to' or 'when to'. Just 'love', with all its contradictions of simplicity and confusion, pleasure and pain, self love, broken and true love, unrequited, untimely, overwhelming and unsatisfying, unjustified, secretive, overexposed, unruly, never working but never ending, passionate but stifled, geographically incompatible but always incomparable, brilliant love. 

shared love

&

self love;

  

 How to look after myself without carrying around the rule book to health, how to enjoy time, rather than count it. 

I relearned that even when the love you once shared with a person is tarnished with the imperfections you both helped to create, it's still love. Because from a young age we are taught to love, but not how to stop.

Happy Valentines Day beautiful person! 

Enjoy it, no matter who you're spending it with!

Ash.x

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