Sunday, 8 October 2017

A big birthday, embracing my misery and why it's okay to say no

I recently turned 26 and celebrated the death of my youth by hosting my own funeral. An evening of mourning, misery and an impromptu obituary by a girl named Naomi that I met a couple of months back.

You meet a lot of people while backpacking and some really do become close friends. And some are just fucking weird. I imagine I'm the latter for most.

When I was a little kid I thought I'd be a self-made millionaire and living my best life by this age. Instead I'm unemployed and living in a hostel in Australia.

During a moment of madness I purchased my first car shortly after the big day. I can't drive and don't have a license but that didn't stop me doing a deal in a McDonalds car park with a dodgy lass off the internet. “It's recently been serviced,” she explained. Wonderful.

The following day when we realised all the tyres needed changing, the battery was dead, the light is smashed and there's no hand brake we probably should have enquired how recent that service was. My guess is 1993.

In fact, we probably should have knocked it on the head after noticing the custom sprayed lime green interior. You live and learn. It was a split purchase between a couple of boys that now act as my exclusive chauffeurs as we complete our 88 days of government imposed regional farm work to extend our visas. This time we're picking blueberries.

I'm like the rural Paris Hilton of the poor in New South Wales and these are my minions.

In my last blog I mentioned I was on the move from Batlow with my freshly formed family of travellers to start work on another farm. Since then we drove 1,000KM and arrived in a town called Woolgoolga and half of these people have now left me. Just like my real family.

That's the issue with this whole travelling thing. You grow close to someone and then they move on or you do. My heart is constantly broken and my abandonment issues are crying out for some stability. It's like a daily breakup. Just without the angry bum sex and bickering that usually follows.

I'd also like to clarify that comparison to my own family was indeed a joke. Sorry, mum.

Also since our last chat I've wrote some stuff on Buzzfeed you can check out here and slumped into a slight depression. The two aren't related, I promise. The exploitation, lack of regulation and brutal reality of this farm work thing has inevitably become beyond detrimental. Article coming soon on all that.

If I had to describe myself during these past months it'd be: present with no presence. A bit like Bruce on Keeping Up With The Kardashians up before he went all Call Me Caitlyn and cut his cock off. I've simply had nothing to say, kept my head down and felt a little void and vacant.

I've also got into pretentious podcasts which hasn't helped with the self-imposed isolation.

“What's his problem?” people have asked the few friends I have left in this town. Which, to me, is a problem itself. Unless you're beaming a smile, bursting with banter or engaging with anyone and everyone - you're apparently seen as suspicious. “How dare someone in this shared accommodation keep themselves to themselves,” is a mutual mentality I've noticed.

So, my dearest of readers, here are some words of wisdom: It's okay to do your own thing, be the quiet one and embrace your misery for a little while. I'd say it's a lot healthier than forcing a smile. You do you, hun. And by that, I mean you do whatever the fuck makes you happy in that current moment.

“Do you want to go to the pub?” No thanks.
“I'm having a party.. wanna come?" Not at all.
“Fancy hanging out at the beach?” I would, but I really don't want too.
“How about a quick blowjob?” Yeah, go on then.

Side note: you may be miserable but you still have urges.

Some knob once said you should never say no to things. That bloke is presumably dead now so he can piss off. Uttering them two bold letters just makes everything so much more genuine. Don't try to be such a people pleaser and say it to most things.

Especially if you're being asked the question: “Is this the most inspirational travel blog you've ever read?”

Trust me: it's liberating AF.