Reflection on 2011

I haven't written a blog in a really long time.
I don't know when it happened, but I started to find something really unattractive about having my entire life published on the Internet.
I stopped posting Facebook statuses, about the big things and the little things, and decided to maintain a little online mystery. At least compared to what I was like before.

But I'm going to break out of that little phase, for just a moment, and reflect on my year. Because as soppy and overly sentimental as it seems, I think there's something useful and fulfilling in that. I'd write it on paper and store it in a scrap book under my bed, but I think I've forgotten how to write without a keyboard, so this is the next best thing.

When I look back, 2011 really feels like the beginning of the rest of my life. Or at least the next part of it.

It kicked off with my very first overseas trip by myself. I say by myself to mean without any family members or friends, but having said that, I met an amazing group of people while I was traveling and volunteering in Costa Rica. Spending so much time with the same people, getting to know them in such a short time frame, you form some pretty amazing bonds, and even though they live on the other side of the country, and the world, I met a bunch of people who I have some beautiful memories with and who I don't think I could ever forget if I tried.
I also learnt to appreciate pretty much everything I have in my life, after seeing the simplicity of life in the Costa Rican mountains. At times I was jealous, the way technology didn't have such a firm grasp on their very existence, the way it does on mine. It was a very inspirational 5 weeks and I think it set me up for the changes that occurred throughout my life this year.

I got three tattoos this year. The first one, Pura Vida (Spanish for 'Pure Life') on my right foot, is symbolic of the time I spent in Costa Rica, and the lessons I learnt there.

I moved out of home this year, which was also huge. While it's a family owned property, which removed the hassles of renting and leases, it still meant living on a daily basis without the help or motivation from my family. I found that really difficult at times. At times when I wasn't feeling my greatest, it was an effort to just get out of bed. When I had the flu I had no one there to look after me, and it was very easily to quickly fall into a depressing loneliness. But despite all that, living in the city was extremely liberating. Drastically reduced travel time from university meant longer sleep ins in the morning, and increased proximity to Oxford Street meant many, many more trashy nights. This year was the beginning of my love affair with Stonewall on a Wednesday night, and my pile of mail from Malebox has steadily been growing over the past 9 months or so.

Oxford Street and the nightlife was still a big part of my year, as it was in 2010, but it felt different this year. I was a local, and regular, and half the time I found myself sipping on a cider on a school night, just because I felt I had nothing better to do (uni assignments totally didn't count). I had to learn self-control, because eventually my body basically broke down and I became really sick, a rare occurrence for me. So despite my carefree lifestyle that I quickly adopted, I also had to mature and great deal and learn when it was actually appropriate and when I had to reign in the alcoholic genes and treat myself like the adult that I wanted the world to treat me as, too.

Having said that, my second tattoo was inspired by Lady Gaga and along with my best friend, no matter how mature I become, I will still have 'Bad Kid' branded into my shoulder as a reminder of the fun I've had, and the nights I could stay out til 4am and still get up for work or uni in the morning and not actually feel too terrible.

University continued along rather uneventfully, in the academic aspect, but once again partying and social life played a prominent part of my year. I made a lot of new friends from all walks of life, and I'm thankful to have met every single one of them. Work wise, I burnt through a couple of jobs. I broke my vow on never returning to hospitality, very quickly regretted it, and then started fresh in two new areas: promotions and retail. I am loving both of them, especially the retail position, where I already feel like I've joined a new family of lovely people who I'm so glad to have met.

The last thing I want to reflect on from this year is my relationships.

Boys tend to come and go in my life, but this year there were three that really left an impact in my life.

Sadly, things didn't work out with any of them.

The first break up was his fault. He reminded me how much I hate liars, and how much a value honesty.
The second break up was my fault. He taught me that sometimes, honesty isn't enough to be able to save things.
The third was no ones fault, just an unfortunate circumstance that had to tear us apart. He taught me that there's a lot more to a relationship than two people liking each other, and some things just come with an inevitable time limit.
I live by a motto of no regrets, and though I was hurt several times, and did a number of things that I'm not proud of, I feel like I took important lessons away from all of them.

My final tattoo of the year is my own memento of the most important lesson: "I'll take the truth at any cost."
I'd prefer to have no relationship at all than have one based on lies or mistrust.
I'd like to think that's not a reflection of while I'll be single at the stroke of midnight tonight, though.

I still have the utmost respect and positive feelings towards two of those three.
I guess that's how things work out sometimes.

So in the end, 2011 was neither a good year or a bad year.
I had my fair share of both. Met some incredible people and made a bunch of friends who completely changed my life, suffered a few mishaps and tragedies, but nothing all consuming or that I couldn't bounce back from.

So ultimately, it was a year of growing and learning.

Here's to the new year, 2012, where hopefully I can put some of those lessons to use.

"arrogant boy, love yourself so no one has to
they're better off without you

arrogant boy, cause a scene like you're supposed to

they'll fall asleep without you

you're lucky if your memory remains..." - Therapy, All Time Low

Goals

Of course, it had to happen.

That moment in life where you sit back and actually think "What the fuck am I doing with my life?"

Sitting down, trying to find the motivation to start an assignment, I decided to think about my future prospectives and how it might be applicable to a job in the future that I'd love to be doing.

And it was then that it dawned on me... I didn't want to do anything like this in the future!

Maybe this moment of horror doesn't happen to everyone. But to be honest, this isn't the first time it's happened to me.

I've spent many a night on the phone to family and friends, complaining that I hate what I am doing, yet unsure of what it actually I want to do.

And I get told, "Robert, you're a smart young man. You can do anything you want!"

But that's the problem! What do I want?

There's also the subtle implication in that phrase, which is: "You're really smart, don't let it go to waste, do something super intellectual and impressive and high-pressure because you'll look like a massive failure if you don't live up to your perceived potential."

And I think that has been a major problem for me.

I don't want to be a doctor, I don't want to be a lawyer.

Sometimes I feel that I'm not smart enough. Other times I think I would be smart enough, but I have very little motivation to actually do anything like that.

Which made me feel lazy. Because I didn't feel any extreme passion towards kind of typical job.

Truth be told, the only passion I've every really had was for creative things, like music and writing. Things like this, things that I knew that I was good at and things that I really did enjoy.

Except no one ever encourages you do pursue any kind of career in that kind of area.

I've always felt as though the few things I've wanted to do are the few things that were never reinforced as something that I could do, never made out to be an achievable goal of any kind.

So now I'm stuck in an ultimate limbo world.

Studying a degree, doing two majors, one which I enjoy and one which I hate. I get to do a lot of writing, which I enjoy, but I don't often get the chance to be creative, which is quite suffocating. I'm still able to be creative and write music on the side, but often not as much as I'd like because I'm too pre-occupied about work I should be doing for my degree, and never feeling able to strike the right balance.

I have goals. I know they're probably achievable.

Let someone I managed to let everyone else's bullshit get in the way to the point that I don't know what's actually true anymore.

And I still have another essay that I should be writing.

"They called it education, I saw a means to an end

I saw my life another way" - It's Not A Bad Little War, Bayside

Regret

I used to say that I'd have no regrets.

That everything I've ever done was a stepping stone, a learning curve, with everything turning me into the person that I've become.

And that in the end, it might all be worth it.

I don't believe that anymore.

Because sometimes, we really should know better.

Sometimes it's a lesson that you're already supposed to know.

And now I know I've done things that I truly do regret.

Hurt people that I loved.

Turned myself into the people that I hate.

Hating myself for what I've done.

They say two wrongs don't make a right.

Apparently, wrongs just can't right in general. They're just wrong.

You're wrong. What you did was wrong.

And you can blame it on anything: alcohol, drugs, your state of mind, stress, peer pressure.

But in the end you're still the one who looks like a fucking arsehole.

No, you are the fucking arsehole.

And maybe your regrets are important - so that you remember that.

No matter how much moral high ground you think you take, you can still do the things that make you sick to the stomach.

And no matter how much you beg or grovel, nothing makes them better.

You just have to stew in your skin and know that you were wrong.

"spent all my life waiting for a moment to come

walking single file, waiting for a moment to come

but it won't

I'm halfway to happy now

and I always mistake it for progress"

- Killing Time, Bayside

Envy

I used to think a little bit of jealousy was a good thing.

In a way I guess it can stimulate competition, and that way you've got to really work for something if you want it.

Some of the great achievements in history probably happened because that guy was jealous of anything that another guy did before him.

Though, there has a be an obvious distinction between healthy competition and petty vendetta.

After all, it's not one of the seven deadly sins for nothing...

Unseen and untreated, a feeling of envy can become dangerously consuming.

The feeling of watching someone get exactly what you wanted, while you're left to look on from the side lines, in some cases can be nothing short of traumatic.

It becomes more than jealousy: it becomes a fiery rage.

In reality, it's probably just the way the cookie crumbles, but you can't help feel as though that person is taking something away from you with the worst intentions, as if they intentionally meant for you to feel that way.

Because, from the other side of the coin, that's hardly the case.

The times in my life where I've found myself as the subject of other peoples jealousy, I had been blissfully unaware of such an ugly manifestation of envy.

I was merely taking the steps in my life towards something that I wanted, and I discovered sides of hostility in people that I never would have imagined or expected.

And while I would love to feel some kind of sympathy, the ridiculousness of the way things pan out leave me with a combination of bemusement and pity.

I've also had the displeasure of feeling a little green lately.

Watching one of your close friends obtain something you would've killed to have: it's hard to not feel as though sometimes they're rubbing it in your face.

But then I try to take a step back: why should they be punished with my negativity for doing something that they've wanted for just as long, and worked hard enough to actually obtain?

The answer is, they shouldn't.

As envious as I may feel, I harness the feelings enough to be genuinely happy for them.

Because I am. And I think that's a true sign that you can tame the green-eyed monster.

Jealousy can make people do terrible things, say things they'll most likely regret.

It can also motivate people to take a more noble road to achievement.

I'm just glad that at least I could make that distinction.

"Jealousy, turning saints into the sea" - Mr. Brightside, The Killers

Sleep

I don't remember the last night I had a decent sleep.

Hell, I'd be surprised if you could find anything that resembles a decent sleeping pattern in the last month of my life.

I wish it could be solved as easily as a more comfy pillow or an extra blanket, but I'd be kidding myself if I thought the source of my insomnia was purely physical.

Having said that, waking up with a hangover 3 of 5 week nights probably attests to why I am consistently sporting the tired eyes of 'stoner chic'.

Maybe because half the nights of the week I'm not sleeping in my own bed, or because I stumble into bed at 3 or 4 in the morning, home from doing... well you probably don't want to know.

I've definitely given a different meaning to the phrase 'getting to bed early' - they never specified AM or PM, right?

The physicality is one thing, but psychologically it's draining.

I'm tired, but getting up and going to bed seems like such an effort.

So I'm awake, either at my computer or drunk between someone else's sheets, until I can't really fight the supposedly reasonable conceptions of society, and the results health sciences, on what is considered an appropriate amount of sleep.

That last sentence was a bit of a jumble, but hey, maybe it proves my point?

If it was one or two nights, or God forbid I was doing something worthwhile with the waking hours, maybe it wouldn't be such an issue.

But I think when it gets to the point where you go to bed at 11:30pm, but your body clock isn't used to crashing until 4am, that you may have a problem.

I'm a train wreck, out of control.

There's no slowing down, so it looks like I'm powering on until I crash.

"if I could trade mistakes for sheep

count me away before you sleep" - Panic! At The Disco

Esteem

If we're going to be totally honest, I can be pretty arrogant sometimes.

Not outwardly, of course. To the public eye I can usually dull it down to a subtle sheen of confidence.

So what changed?

Why do I suddenly feel so inadequate?

I used to spruce myself up before every night out.

I'd do my hair, wink to the mirror and think 'Damn boy, you're looking fine tonight'.

Maybe it was the lighting, maybe it was the comparative sobriety, or maybe it was just me waking up to smell the roses.

But I hated the way I looked.

I wanted to hide, to change, to destroy all evidence.

Where I once let it all hang out, keeping no secrets, I was suddenly ashamed.

Every past compliment simply meant nothing. I could feel guys watching me, but instead of feeling attractive, I felt ugly, like some freak they were all judging.

I used to think how weak anyone with a body image issue would be, to succumb so easily to the outside world pressures.

I guess I just kept my own insecurities from myself.

"LA told me 'You'll be a pop star:

all you have to change is everything you are

tired of being compared to damn Britney Spears

she's so pretty - that just ain't me" - P!nk

Similarity

They always say that opposites attract.

Right now, I'm not so sure that I'd agree.

I've somehow only just realised that there's one consistent problem that I've had with every boyfriend, every relationship, every fling, every single attempt at romance, no matter how mighty or mere.

How it escaped me before is beyond me, but it's finally been brought to my attention that I've had next to nothing in common with them.

Because no, being gay doesn't count.

Yes, all gay men (or at least out ones) have similar experiences of coming out, no matter how heart-warming or tragic their variations may be. You can exchange stories and pretend you're really connecting, but it pains me to realise I've had these kinds of chats with strangers on the internet as easily as I've had them with my lovers.

Then there's those typical gay stereotypes: partying, drinks and drugs, Ke$Ha, etc.

I used to joke that a love for Lady Gaga was mandatory in any perspective partner.

And while it makes for a fun night out, and can be enough to bond over with close friends, it's not exactly a unique connection of any kind that could lay down the strong foundations of any sort of successful relationship.

I've never dated a musician. I've never dated someone who had a particularly or especially proactive view on politics or gay rights issues (which is kind of hard to believe, no?). I've never dated someone quite so interested in spirituality and mysticism. I've never dated anyone who really shared any of the passions I have in my life, who I really and truly had something in common with.

I've dated cynical, atheistic med students, amazingly-built health-freak/gym-junkies, party-boy hairdressers-turned-bankers, allergy-ridden liars, even a MECO student with a passion for Twilight fan fiction (who's ambition to be a 'lady of leisure' was probably the closest thing in common I had with any of them; the inherent nature of which rendered us quite incompatible).

Most of them have been lovely guys, gorgeous people who instantly captured me with their personalities.

I'd like to think that I did the same with them, but in the end, the spark dies.

We brought the bricks, but are we collectively lacking the mortar that holds us all together?

The flame petters out, and I'm left with a hollow, burnt-out shell of what was shaping up to be my happy ending.

I've been hit with the 'it's not you, it's me' line more than I'd care to admit, but in most cases I'd like to believe that their reasoning was perfectly legitimate.

But maybe, in the larger scheme of things... perhaps it is me?

I know I fall hard and fast, and sometimes I think I fall in love with the idea of a person more than what they actually are.

And then I just get disappointed when they don't see me the way I see them.

Or that I just don't see them the way they really are.

"so go on and think about whatever you need to think about,

go on and dream about whatever you need to dream about,

and come back to me when you know just how you feel." - Why, Avril Lavigne