But then I left and I lost you forever

I wrote this back in December 2011. I’ve just refreshed it a little.


then i lost you forever sardinia analog photo love
We met at Christmas and I liked you straight away.

I imagined you liked me as well – but conversations we have had since then have indicated otherwise. I imagined you couldn’t keep your eyes off me. I imagined you flirted with me. I imagined there was a spark.

I couldn’t stop wanting to touch you and when you lay on my legs I had butterflies while your hair was tickling my shins.

You told me later you didn’t really notice me at first; I was quiet and didn’t talk much. But at the end I was drunk and got bold. I asked for your number and you gave it to me. I decided from that moment you would be mine.

We texted back and forth; I liked our rapport.

I imagined a life with you – cuddles, shower talks on the floor. We would get drunk and share all our stories. You would tell me all your secrets and I would trust you. You would be someone I could love. I imagined one day we’d travel together, have kids, get married.

I thought about all these things.
We hadn’t even been on our first date yet.

You don’t know these things.
I never told you.

We started dating. I spoke about you to a friend – I told her I didn’t really like you, but I would “textbook romance” you as an experiment.

That was a lie.

I was embarrassed to admit I had actually fallen for a boy. I had been single for so long and was adept at pretending I was happy. I had always wanted people to think that I was strong and if people knew how miserable I was, how hard it was to get through life from time to time, they wouldn’t be friends with me.

I fooled you into thinking I was a happy, normal, functioning human being.

But I wasn’t.

The first time you experienced me – the real and crazy, sad and miserable me – you were shocked. I thought I would lose you. I loved you so much. I had come to rely on you for my happiness.

I cried for so long – soul-wrenching tears that exploded from the black hole inside me. I cried not for just for thinking I had lost you, I cried for myself, for all the pain inside. For all the loathing.

It didn’t last though and we moved in together. The day you agreed I was over the moon – we would be together forever! You really wanted to be with me.

You wanted to be with me!

You had accepted me. You had seen the crazy but yet you stuck around. Even when I tried to manipulate you. Even when I tried to push you away.

You didn’t leave.

I thought: he must really love me. No one else has ever stuck around; no one else could put up with it.

I would be ecstatic in your company, but in a matter of seconds I could hate you. I could hate you so bad and hurt so hard that my heart would feel as though it would shatter into a million pieces.

How does one let a person have so much power over their self?

You never showed me your emotions, not even when drunk. I constantly wondered how you felt about me, I was constantly unsure. Always teetering on the edge of trying to seem blasé about the uncertainty or demanding you express yourself to me.

Did you love me?
Did you want to be with me?
Did you even care?

Would I ever be able to break your heart? Or could I ever make you so happy that you felt your face would split from the huge smile on your face?

I would lie with you in bed and touch your cheeks. Run my hands through your hair and trail my finger along your brow. I would look into your eyes and feel your body wrapped around mine.

My heart would try to beat out of my chest.

You are so beautiful.
Your skin is so soft.
Your body is perfect.

I loved to watch the mole on your bum and the cute way you squirmed when I touched your feet. The way you would wrinkle so easily in the shower.

You are my best friend.
But then I left.

And now I’ve lost you forever.

Why you should wear the feminist label with pride

feminst feminism pop culture sexist hipster

My friends have started introducing me, and writing off my rage at the inequalities in society, by explaining that I am “sort of a feminist”. As though it’s a bad thing to believe that women deserve everything that men have. As though by way of excusing away my forthrightness on the topic, they’re separating themselves from me – labelling me and shoving me away in that dirty little box where they themselves definitely do not reside.

Feminist shouldn’t be a dirty word; feminist should be a label that all women wear proudly.

I’m yet to come across any of my friends who don’t want equality in the workplace and who don’t want to vote. I’m yet to come across any of my friends who believe that their rightful place is in the kitchen, and I don’t know any who don’t have career aspirations, drives or goals.

There’s a lot of shit I’ve put up with and even believed – listening to my numerous guy friends through the years talk rudely about girls – making jokes about being a good housewife, or only being good for one thing.

And yeah, it’s fucking disgusting, but when it’s something that’s so accepted in society, and you’re young, you don’t know how to deal with those kinds of comments. And so you let them slide, and you may even let them seep into your psyche, altering your own view of yourself.

You let these comments affect you – but who is to blame?

We are a product of the media; we are a product of advertising, society and the imagery and popular culture that surrounds us.

So if it’s all around us, how do we get out of it?

We start small.

Instead of berating the women around us, we embrace them. We start to love the little flawed things about their bodies, about their faces, about each other. The things that make us unique, and different to the overly Photoshopped mannequins on the pages found in our magazines, on our TV’s and in our newsfeeds.

We refuse to buy and laugh at celebrity women who are belittled in gossip magazines for their bodies – whether they’re “scary skinny” or “obese”.

We recognise that every woman has a right to walk through life without being judged for the clothes she wears.

We look up to older women as mentors and role models. And we view younger women, not as threats, but with respect and kindness.

We refuse to stay quiet when someone is degrading a woman and we refuse to judge women on their sexual adventures (or lack thereof).

We remain open minded. And honest. And we are not afraid to stand up for what we believe is fair and right.

We keep our respect for men, because we love them. And we remember that feminism is not hating men.

We start small. Because just by changing our opinion, and our voices, we can have a positive impact on those around us.

We start small.

We start by embracing ourselves as Feminists.

Writing dribble when drunk and being so drunk you literally dribble

It’s a fine line.

Many a morning after a big night I wake up to iPhone notes, texts to myself (and others), half finished blog posts and unsaved word docs (dependent on where I was drinking the night before), of complete and utter dribble.

From time to time I am able to pull from this dribble some amazing insight into the world around me (and other pretentious bullshit) and turn it into something worthy of posting. This is a real rarity though.

Here’s some of my top picks from the last two years (Note: Some of the times look like acceptable hours, they’re not. They’re saved as the time it was in Melbourne, when I was overseas)asdf fast food is bad for you drunk ramblings social media retarded drunken ramblings feminism stone ages drunk ramblings deep drunk ramblings learning drunk drunk drunk love triangles obssessed with clapping travelling sucks sometimes drunk ramblings weird dreams ramblings feminism and why it's insulting drunk weird ramblings toilet wall ramblings rty miley cyrus white pants barbie dolls sexulised media drunk ramblings dead fashion funeral fashion always see the positives ramblings drunk the future life drunk ramblings

Quote

“There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness.”

— Friedrich Nietzsche (1844 – 1900), “On Reading and Writing”

Finding out your ex has moved on with a girl who shares your name, being told your ex-boyfriend’s best friend who is also your best friend’s ex-boyfriend likes you, and other awkward stories from my weekend..

So Saturday night saw me lying in a park swigging red wine straight from the bottle at 3am with a friend who shall remain nameless. Said friend had just got nude and ran through sprinklers and said park was barely a park, and more a strip of grass lying under a motorway bridge.

Said friend is on his back (fully clothed now) and I was struck by a sad thought. Me and him are almost one in the same person.

Let’s rewind.

Tonight was the night I discovered that my ex-boyfriend, yes the same ex-boyfriend that is contained in all my rambles on here, has a new girlfriend. Did I cry.. no. Did I feel angry.. yes. Kind of a strange feeling and not one I was expecting. Some social media digging later (PS I WAITED ALMOST 3 DAYS TO DO THIS – this is progress!), and she shares my name. She was also a budding journalist, who comments things like “your funny”.

I hate her.

I also hate him.

But more in a “I can’t believe you’ve moved on before me” type way. And I hate her in the “you have my name but really bad grammar” type way. She’s pretty, but nothing amazing. I just keep picturing them doing things like sitting in the shower together like we did, and I bet they never fight. She’s probably all perfect and would never do anything like get drunk and chuck his clothes out of the second story window and then end up vomiting in the shower. Only classy girls such as myself embark on such endeavours.

Anyway. If he’s happy, I’m happy. Moving on has gotta be in the not so distant future for me now. Our love is dead and gone. He’s moved onto bigger and better things.

So that takes me to the question, how are you meant to act when you inadvertently run into them together at some point, probably in the not so distant future, considering he lives down the road.

Do I:

a) run and hide behind a bush

b) smoothly and suavely say, “Hihowareyouthat’sgoodihavetogo,” and hightail it the fuck out of there, or

c) act like a normal human being, say hello and then walk on my merry way as if it’s the most normal thing in the world to meet your ex-boyfriend’s, who you’re still totally in love with and pine over, new girlfriend..

Once upon a time, upon hearing this sort of news, I probably would have turned around and sexed some random dude that night. Instead I yelled at said naked friend from earlier, stormed off and tried to walk two hours home in broken sandals with 10% battery on my phone and $3 to my name. Because that is so much more mature..

So back to the park, and we’re lying there in the grass, I’m swigging the red wine, we’re playing The Jezebels and, I’m not really sure if this actually happened at this stage of the night but the dramatic effect is better, all of a sudden I’m being told that my naked friend (who is now clothed) possibly has a thing for me. This friend who is not only my ex-boyfriend’s friend, but is also my best friend’s ex-boyfriend. In fact, we all used to hang out together in some sort of sick, double happy couple-type scenario.

I’ve always liked him, but never like that. We share a mutual respect for each other, born out of, what I always assumed, was an entirely platonic relationship.

My ex-boyfriend (who was my boyfriend at the time) once said to me, “You’re not going to move to London and hook up with *bleep* are you.”

Outraged and disgusted by the thought, I vehemently said NO. And feelings have not changed on that. Nevertheless the fact that my best friend once dated him.

Good grief.

Anyway he probably (hopefully) doesn’t remember any of this, and he probably (hopefully) is just feeling lonely. After all, his two best friends (who I used to date – did I forget to mention that one?) are all loved up now.

So, instead of dwelling on all this, I’ma drink a bottle of red and dance in the lounge.

Looking forwards

“I asked the Chinese girl at work for advice about which phone I should buy because they’re good at those sorts of things,” my mum told me in the car after she showed me her new phone. I promptly berated her for saying something so stereotypically racist and felt slightly embarrassed that she would even think about things like that, let alone speak it out loud.

It got me thinking about how our generation (Gen Y) differs from the other generations that came before us (as every generation differs from the last). We’ve been brought up in, what I’d like to think, a mostly anti-racist environment. I mean, I’m not so disillusioned that I believe we’re completely there yet, but we’re on the right track. And although it may just be from my sheltered pocket of middle-class and educated friends, on a whole (through my extensive reading of comment sections on the web) people who make typical stereotypically blatantly racist comments are severely berated by the majority.

There are many other things that have been ingrained in our generation from the get go; I still remember how shocked I was when I watched the Mad Men episode 0207: The Gold Violin and after Don’s family finished up their picnic they simply left all their dirty plates, utensils and rubbish on the ground.  Immediately I googled it, and found out that widely spread TVCs and campaigns about littering only really started up in the 80′s. Of course there are still people today who litter, but again, idealistically, I’d like to think the majority knows this is wrong. I know I feel extremely guilty if I drop something, even going so far as to pick up other people’s rubbish when I see it on the ground.

 
Of course there would be many many many more things than this, I’m just touching the surface. The real purpose behind this blog post is to get down some of the values that we are semi accepting of as societal norms these days, which I think future generations will be shocked at.

Our unequal pay for men and women

Nuff said.

Our lack of unisex toilets to accommodate transgendered and intersexed people (or other members of society that don’t fit in to the binaries of male/female)

Our celebration of Australia day

Australia day is not really a day to be celebrated, to Aboriginals, it’s known as ‘Invasion Day’ or (when the day was first started) ‘The Day of Mourning’. Ponder on that for awhile.

Our casual racism

I’m not sure why, but there are people who berate blatant racism, but have no problem saying things like, “I hate Indian cab drivers, they all try to rip you off/smell” or, “I bought a steak in the mid-west of the US and local people were cooking it. It was the worst steak I’ve ever had, it would be like if you went somewhere here and Aboriginals were cooking for you.” All sentences above shock me. Sure there are some Indian cab drivers who smell or try to rip you off, but there are also a lot of Australian cab drivers who are/do the same. Also a lot of these so called ‘Indians’ aren’t even Indian – they’re Shri Lankan, Pakistani etc. Good grief.

Our complete and utter lack of fairness and flexibility in the workplace towards women who take time off to have children

Hey! Guess what. People want to have babies. Unfortunately only women can do this. And because women HAVE to do this, they shouldn’t be penalised for it. Why is maternity pay so little? Why aren’t workplaces and work hours designed to be more young child friendly. Why aren’t we doing more to change our attitudes towards these things?

How the majority of Australians did not take the Greens seriously as having a major influence on our political beliefs

Rock on Adam Bandt.

Arguments against global warming

Climate change is a thing. The polar ice caps melting is a thing. Bees dying is a thing. Temperature rises are a thing. These are all things. Wake up Tony Abbott.

Our outdated view on privacy laws

Privacy? In the digital age.. what does it really mean? Our data is all over the show – Facebook knows mostly every facet of our lives. They sell this data to marketers (“big data”) so that marketers  can sell targeted shit to you. It’s so clever. In the future I think they’ll laugh at how we tried to protect ourselves from this. How we actually thought that some things on the internet were private. We’re headed straight for a dystopian, big brother style future.

How we have to pay for the internet

Clearly this should be free in the future. Or at least stupidly stupidly cheap.

How we ever lived life before time travel

OK this is just a personal and silly one but FUCK I WISH WE COULD TIME TRAVEL. I love everything surrounding the theories of time travel. What would it really be like! Could it be at all possible? What would you do if you had the power?

Anyway, those are a few of the things that I think will change in the future, and I’m sure there’s many many out there that we haven’t even dreamt of yet. Who knows where the future is really going. It’s all so freaking exciting, I just wish I could live for thousands of years more so I could experience it all.

I would’ve really liked to have included poverty, homelessness, famine, unemployment. But I don’t think these things will ever be wiped out. We live in an unfair society, and we are not perfect beings. The whole of our nature as humans would have to be changed, and in the end we are just animals, with drives and needs, just like any other animal on earth.

PS I hope one day people will wear USBs around their necks as “retro” jewellery

Just call me resolved

Most people hark on about new year’s resolution, but I’ve never been one of those people. I think I stopped making them as soon as I hit high school and it was no longer one of those compulsory activities your teachers made you do just before summer holidays. I’ve never really been one to goal-set, much to the disappointment of every employer, and teacher, I’ve ever encountered. My only goal in life has been, and also will remain, to make sure I stay true to myself, my values, and to, above all, be happy.

As I get older though, I’ve started to see the benefit in goals; watching other twenty-something’s my age with worthy careers, serious relationships and buying houses WITHOUT (and this is the most important point) sacrificing an education or travel. I mean, I took five freaking years just to graduate from my undergrad degree in Arts for god’s sake. And another three years to finally make it over to London. Procrastination is my number one strength, and what I battle with daily.

With all this in mind I have decided – for my first serious time – to make a list of resolutions for 2014:

1. Learn to love dudes again

OK, I admit it, this is pretty cheesy. But so important for me. Since this whole saga with my ex-boyfriend is finally behind me (I think I can happily now say I don’t feel the violent need to talk to him about every detail of my life anymore, although I will always miss him) what I want to try and focus on this year, is seeing the good things in men again. The past two years I have spent so much time shutting people down because they didn’t live up to him, and I would compare every little aspect of their personality with his. Inevitably this lead to me being thoroughly rude and mean to perfectly nice guys. Instead of seeing any positive aspects of their personality, all I could see was all the ways that they weren’t him.

I’ve also had a huge barrier up because I haven’t been ready to let him go. Enjoying time with someone else would always remind me of time spent with him, and so I avoided it. It’s time for me to man up – pun intended – and get myself back into a more positive headspace surrounding the opposite sex. After all, they can’t all be bad eggs, right?

2. Career shit

So so important, if I want to make it as a writer I need to be organised, self-motivated, and not afraid of rejection. I took the first steps mid last year towards this, but I’ve been tapering off over the summer. I am going to work super hard over 2014 to make this dream a reality.

3. Quit my boring ass job and never work in admin again

My soul is dying in my role, I’m not suited to the 9-5 workplace, in an office, without a friendly team of faces. Throw in repetitive work, and endless time for internet browsing, and you may as well dig my grave. This year, even if it means taking a pay cut, I will be getting the fuck out of my current profession.

4. Save for South America, ETA end of October

Eek, this is a daunting one, it involves fully paying off my huge credit card debt (~$8,000 in total) and living as a pauper. I’ve gotten too comfortable in my cushy lifestyle over 2013, and some things have gotta give for me to achieve this. Not so excited for this aspect of the year, but the reward will be so so worth it.

5. Read more books

Not much more to elaborate on this. Reading and writing are my passions, and I don’t do the former nearly enough. Which is what I need to elevate my vocabulary and writing. I’ll look at it as a backup goal to help me achieve number 2.

Superficial goals below:

- need to get at least one awesome tattoo (will probs have to wait for the americas

- keep my hair short, cuz it rocks

- dye my hair the fuck blonde for once – I’ve been itching to do this for years

- ride my bike more

- keep up going to the gym

- try and drink less (bah, this is never going to happen)

Merry Christmas Fuckers

grumpy-cat-christmas-cards-funny_laura cordero melbourne writing

One day you’ll make one tiny decision and your life will end up spiralling down a whole new path. The significance of that moment will be lost on you at the time, but once that life-changing person or that life-altering experience happens, you’ll probably be able to trace it back to one tiny turning point, and then that decision will hold a whole new significance. And you’ll realise that the consequences of your actions can be immense.

You’ll realise that life is made up of tiny little coincidences; or you’ll believe in huge, vast and inevitable life plans. No matter what philosophy you decide on, one thing will be clear. Those tiny decisions being made every day, with little or no thought, will all eventually add up into something much, much bigger.

It could be as simple as deciding where to go on Christmas day. Maybe you’ll decide at the last minute to go somewhere else. And maybe that tiny choice you made, maybe that one tiny and minute decision, will change the course of your life for the next three years.

And sometimes you’ll wish you hadn’t gone. You’ll wish you hadn’t gone and met that person there because it all hurts so much now. And you’ll look back at that fork you had, that turning point. And you’ll want to take path b instead of path a, because of all the mistakes that were made since that day.  And it’s really hard to remember any of the good memories now. Because the bad memories are the ones that’ve burrowed deep under your skin. The bad memories are those ones that stain your psyche; they leave the scars on your heart. The type of scars that never really completely fade. And you’ll vaguely remember that once it wasn’t all so bad. Once upon a time you were both in love, and you were happy, and they were happy, but it’s so hard to think of those happy times now because they’ve all been drowned out by the sad.

And then you’ll realise that Christmas is ruined for you now, because you’ll get drunk and you’ll want to call them. You’ll be convinced that this drunken phone call, this particular drunken message, this one will be the one that’ll get them back.

Or maybe you’ll have a Christmas with someone new. You’ll recreate Christmas and that new person will tend those scars that the other left. They’ll rub ointment on them lovingly, caresses them and kiss them and tell you that they love them and they love you. They love you, scars on your heart and all.

And Christmas will come and go each year. And you’ll wait. You’ll wait to meet that person who will change the memory of the day for you. The person who’ll make that choice you made so long ago, at that fork in the road, not seem so bad. The person who you’ll know will make them and all those other memories fade. For you’ve faded them as far as they’ll go and you secretly know they won’t get any better alone.

And so you’ll sit and you’ll wait. And you’ll continue to dread December.

First posted on Stories from my Friends