At my age, it should be okay to spend the holidays away from home, but I’m a self-professed mama’s girl, and beyond that, it’s the first time I know so few people in one city. Homesicknesses isn’t ageist.
I opted to spend my first Australian holidays in Sydney. I assumed that being with my sister would make everything okay. It didn’t. She is a person with many wonderful qualities… it’s just that they don’t really extend to me. According to her, I am spoilt, irresponsible and self-involved. Which I am. But I know that I am also more.
There were two rounds of arguments.
Round I took place on Christmas Eve and ended with tears (mine) and some heads buried in sand (hers). A 5 a.m. call to my mother, and a gin with my beautiful aunt later, I waltzed into her other family’s party like nothing happened.
The peace lasted for 42 hours.
Round II was impressive because I actually got her to tell me why she’s angry with me. Kind of. She yelled at me for minutes- I should have done my Christmas shopping earlier, I use ’I’ too much, I have no patience for political conversations. I am obviously a sinner. Naturally, I started to defend myself.
And then I stopped. Because I do not need to defend myself. I spent the first half of my twenties half-heartedly trying to do what was expected from me and no one was happy. There is nothing wrong with office jobs and mortgages and saving for rainy days and shit. It’s just not me. It doesn’t make happy. That kind of life is like I’ve got a dead dog that I’ve beat the shit out of. It’s like my sister is saying that it’s better to have a dead dog for a pet than a llama.
The funny thing is that that argument didn’t make me feel lonely. I realised that this is exactly what they mean when they say that it takes courage to live unconventionally. I realised this and I felt empowered. I don’t have anything to prove.
And neither do you.
We can lead whatever lives we want. I am one term into my degree and I’m already looking at work in Bali and India in case I want to pop over next year. Crazy? Sure. But why not? Stability is wonderful…if that’s what you want.
Friends, you do not need to defend your life-choices. Ever.
You do not need to listen to the one negative voice in a choir of positive ones.
Go on spontaneous holidays.
Cry when you need to.
Smile at as many strangers as you dare.
Laugh when they call you a hippy like it’s a bad thing.
Let them be impatient with your neuroses.
Always try to see where they’re coming from, even if they refuse to move.
Don’t be afraid to look cute boys in the eyes.
Don’t bite your tongue, just let it go.
Wear tiaras to breakfast.
Don’t worry if people think you’re nuts.
Be kind to yourself.
Remember that THIS is what they mean when they say that it’s difficult to be different.
Alexia Roumanas, Writing 
Indeed. A nice reckoning for the new year …
Sent from my iPhone
love, lexi.
Spot on, Brian…this is just in time for the New Year. I would like to suggest an addition to your list, Lexi:
– Guys, kiss a dude. Girls, kiss a lady.
And I suggest that as a straight man (I almost used “100% straight” there, but fortunately I remembered that it makes no fucking sense) and I do so for two distinct reasons: First, I’m just too goddamn literal to fully believe anyone when they say they aren’t into ‘X’ and then admit they’ve never even considered ‘X’. There is just too much of a gap in that reasoning. I know that I’m not gay and I know exactly when and where I proved – for my purposes, at least – that hypothesis (let me be clear, I mostly believe those types of people where sexual orientation is concerned…but I kinda also think that if they were stranded for an extended period of time on some tropical island with someone of the same sex they might discover some wiggle room (wheee! puns!) they didn’t expect; and, second, I truly feel like there is nothing in this life so small and trivial, or so large and profound, that it won’t be something you regret not experiencing (I mean, best case, you die of old age with no dementia and time to say farewell to those close to you…well that’s going to be at least a 4-6 week period and – if it’s someone like me – that is more than enough to catalogue everything single thing you didn’t, and forever can’t, experience).
Reblogged this on beconfidentwithyourself.