religious viewpoints.

You know, when I pray it’s never for me. And it’s always the same thing. Not that I pray very often, only when I’m at church which is about twice a year. I pray for family that has passed, I used to pray for my brother to be more respectful (though that’s getting better so I stopped), I pray for my other brother and sister-in-law to live safely and happily. I pray for my friends if they are in trouble. I’ve always been aware of my wellbeing and easy life so it feels rude praying for myself when there’s nothing I truly need that I don’t already have.

Oh that’s the other person I pray for, our sponsor child in Africa; Kefasi Macheza. You know how most kids dream of being rich and famous? Well in my dreams of that I was a superstar singer (ironic since I can’t sing at all, I know) who sponsored one child on each continent, if not more. I always wanted to help others, please others. I'm big on people pleasing. That’s why I’m horrible at saying no to people. Mind you, I have learnt that this isn’t always the best attitude in relationships or work as it leads to constant giving and never asking or expecting anything in return, which isn’t fair on me. But moving on.

Sometimes I wish I prayed more often, but mostly I think it’s bull. Not useless. Not at all. I think it’s a good way to ask for help if you’re too stubborn or scared to actually ask someone real. And I think it’s a useful way to get things off your chest and be honest about what you need. But do I think God is listening or that he’ll respond? God, no (see what I did there?). I used to test this when I was younger and had to attend church every Sunday. I’d say things like “if you are listening God, give me a sign, say something back”. I knew I’d never get a response and I never did. Though maybe I never got a response because I never believed I would. I only just thought about that now. Hmm.

But yet, I do believe in God, or in a higher power. And I like the idea that someone is watching over me, if not responding to me. And I believe it doesn’t matter what name you use – Buddha, Krishna, Christ – it’s all the same thing. I love what religion teaches. I hate what religion actually is. It teaches love, kindness, compassion, acceptance, forgiveness. All valid lessons in life, any life. But it is contradicting, power seeking, outdated (at least Christianity is, I can’t speak for the others), money hungry and corrupt. It is man-made and it is an excuse for war. Therefore, I cannot say I am religious, because I completely disagree with what it has become and how those who are strong believers try to push it on those who are not. Isn’t it also supposed to teach respect? Well then, respect those with a different viewpoint to yourself, you self righteous religious person.

I tried looking up what catergory I can be placed in regards to my view on religion and God but didn't really get anywhere. Not Catholic because I don't believe the stories in the Bible. Not an Agnostic because they neither accept nor deny the existence of God. Not a Theist because they only believe in one God whereas I believe there might be more. I half decided on Henotheist because they believe in more than one God but only worship one, before realising I really don't care that much after all. I believe what I do and it's probably not going to fit into a nice little definition that other people also follow.

I believe in faith. That great leap in trusting something unknown. I believe in doing good – not because it will get you into heaven or because what goes around comes around – simply because doing good is good. End of story. Only thing religion should worry about.

Oh and p.s. two days of blogging in a row - look at me go!

new years friends.

So, New Years Eve is just around the corner now. A time to get drunk and be with friends. I’m not sure I’ll really be doing either. The drinking I’ll get to another time, possibly the next time I blog. But suffice to say I’m not a big drinker, though since it is New Years, I’ll probably make the exception and at least intend to drink (whether that results in getting drunk or giving up and switching back to coke halfway through the night, only time will tell). But the friends part, I will discuss here and now.

You see, this year I’m spending New Years Eve with my boyfriend and his friends. Of course, ideally I’d like to spend it with my friends and my boyfriend, but this isn’t an ideal world and it’s hard to organise that when we live north and he lives south. The other big problem with organising that is I don’t have a lot of friends to go out with. Sad to admit, I know, but it’s true. I can count the friends I have from primary/high school on one hand. I can count the friends I’ve made and constantly make an effort to see from uni using just my elbows alone. So, that’s less than seven friends. Of course there are many people who I’m friendly with, but there’s a difference between friends – the people you get along with and friends – the people you can call up and hang out one on one with. It is the latter to which I am referring.

Out of these friends, the biggest group I can have at a time is three. Myself, and two others. Because the rest of the friends aren’t part of the same group and heaven knows you can’t just throw everyone together like a mix pack of m&m’s and expect them to all get along just so you can have a big group to go out with and take nice group photos with. Oh, that being said, I have forgotten ‘the boys’. The boys are a group of about five to ten of my brother’s friends who are great as individuals but irresponsible, loud, hard to organise and known to bail out or get into a fight halfway through the night when you put them all together. Not the best for organising what’s supposed to be the biggest night of the year with.

Now, don’t get me wrong, the people I have in my life are amazing and I would much rather have just a handful of really great people than a roomful of only okay people. But upon hearing about these great big girls’ nights out or holidays of 10 friends from others, it makes me sad to know I don’t have that. One of the things I envy most about my boyfriend (though doubt he truly understands this ... unless he’s reading it now) is his friends. Eight of them total, five boys, three girls. The perfect ratio, because let’s be honest, if there’s too many girls it turns bitchy and whiney and I just hate girls when they’re like that. They go out clubbing together, they go to concerts together, they go on holidays together. And it’s always fun and it’s always easy. Organising ‘the boys’ is rarely easy, always last minute and has a real possibility of failing. Now, I would never try to push myself into this group. They are his friends and they’ve been his friends long before I came into the picture. They are all from high school. But it would be nice to able to hang out with them and experience that big group thing a little more than I do at the moment.

High school is definitely the easy way to establish a group of friends. My high school group did used to be bigger, but things change. And once you leave high school, how do you add extra people to the group? You can’t just bring in one of your friends and hope the rest of the group gets along with and happily adopts them. Because even if you try to do this, that person will always be primarily your friend and either they might feel slightly left out or the group might feel slightly threatened/annoyed. So, you can try to all meet someone and become friends with them at once. Which is hard to do since it’s rare your group will all be in a place where it’s easy to meet new people. Uni was good for new people, but what are the odds you’re all studying the same thing? Work is good for new people, but how many people work with all their friends? And if you did, would there really be any more staff left who weren’t already in your group? Activities are good for new people. But how many groups (of girls) all belong to the same sports club these days? Once you’re out of a place of education and all moving in different directions, how do you meet new people that everyone is happy to have there?

routine romance.

I lost something that was very important to me, and then a month later I got it back. And you’d think that would be great. And it is, it really is. I’m happy again. But while I thought it was lost for good, I realised (of course) that life has to go on. And I was fairly good at putting my pain and heartbreak aside and doing just that – getting on with life. In fact, there were even tiny, brief glimpses of hope and anticipation as I realised I was entering a period where things would be new again (albeit these glimpses were always followed by the sadness of my loss). But new is exciting. I miss exciting. I’m a Sagittarius and we are said to be spontaneous. Now, I don’t really think I am, but I’ve always loved the idea of it. I’ve always wanted to be. I want to do exciting things like go bungee jumping. But I don’t want to book and plan it for months. I want to wake up one day and say “let’s do it today”. I want to act out scenes from a movie where they go to the airport, ask for the first available flight and travel to wherever that it. Maybe not quite that scene, as flights in America/Europe are a lot cheaper than within Australia, but you get the idea.  

And on top of this wanted spontaneity, I’m a sucker for romantic gestures. If a boyfriend ever does something to truly upset me, showing up with a written letter and flowers are the way to apologise.  And so, I’ve always loved when spontaneity is combined with romance. A surprise candle-lit dinner, not for an occasion, just ‘cause. A present because he saw it and thought of me. Flowers delivered to work. A cute and sweet text message. Putting on my favourite show to watch even though he hates it. I love it all. Even the smallest gestures can show romance and compassion.

And so, when my lost item (read: boyfriend) came back to me, yes, I was thrilled, but I also realised we would go back to the same relationship like nothing had changed. I’d miss out on the unknown that had awaited me. Now, the unknown is often awful. I’ve made the mistake of trying out a new meal for the first time at a restaurant – it has tasted horrible, I’ve wasted my money and been left hungry. However, when it comes to relationships, the first few unknown months are the most exciting. Boys try to impress girls during this time, so they are extra attentive, sweet, polite, caring. These traits don’t necessarily leave the relationship as it digresses, but I guess both parties get a little slack with it. So, my big issue and the issue I wonder how married couples deal with, is what happens when the excitement wears off? What happens when it turns into comfort? Why don’t boys understand that they should be romantic every now and then for no reason other than they still love you? And most of all, does comfort ultimately lead to boredom, or can it lead to a happy ending in the form of closeness, understanding and being content? What happens when loving someone becomes routine?

where does it go?

So I haven’t posted a blog for quite some time. I also haven’t gone walking in over a week (it was supposed to be an every second day routine that I WOULD STICK TO THIS TIME) and I just returned my ‘how to learn Italian in 10 minutes a day’ c.d. set back to the library, after only getting half way through disc one. There are six discs. All this free time I was supposed to have to be writing, getting fit and learning, has somehow disappeared. I’d say I have some fairly legit reasons for falling behind in all my little holiday activities.

Firstly, it was my birthday last week, so I figure the things that go along with that take up a bit of time and of course my birthday is a day free from anything but relaxing. 

Secondly, I started this blog just after splitting from my boyfriend, on the assumption that not spending time with him would mean I had a lot more time to spend on me. However, after a month of missing each other we decided we are much happier when we’re together, and so now we are again. And naturally things have gone back to me wanting to spend a lot of my time with him. Of course, there’s a lot more I could say on the whole thing, but I’ve gone through it so many times in my own head that I no longer feel the need to vent. So that’s all the information you’ll get on my love life (for now).

And thirdly, my photographer best friend has managed to get me involved with an up and coming photography publication, called Greta Photo Book. It’s quite cool actually – run under the ‘Colosoul’ group which has published one or two magazines and it’s all done by 17 – 25 year olds (aside from the CEO who helps us out of course). So, we’ve been driving to south perth once a week to get the Book up and running. Not only do I get to interview the photographers and have my words published, but I’m also helping with the PR side of things, getting advertisers and promoting the Book. I’m doing both parts of my degree at once! And sure, it’s not for profit so obviously we’re not getting paid, but every time I think about the experience I’m getting, I can’t believe it. Alex (my little photographer friend) and I always used to say we should start our own magazine. She could take the photos. I’ll write and promote. It was always ‘the thing’ and now, somehow, we’ve managed to fall into basically running this whole Greta Photo Book thing. Pretty awesome.

So anyway, all of the above, combined with extra work shifts due to it being Christmas and me working in retail, means there goes a lot of my ‘spare’ time. And I realised that because I don’t have a set time to go walking, it’s not like it’s a gym class or anything, I figure it doesn’t matter when I do it. And because I don’t have a set time to learn Italian, and there’s no one to mark me wrong or tell me off if I don’t do it, it slips down my ‘to do’ list. I’ve realised that even though I complain about being bored on days when I don’t have anything planned, and even though I want to get fit and learn and write, it’s not very often that I’ll feel motivated to do these things. The Italian especially. I think I’m the type of person who needs a set time or deadline for things, otherwise I’ll just put them off. So, maybe I should go off, get out my dairy, and allocate time slots to do these things I keep meaning to do. And then maybe, just maybe, I’ll actually get them done!

stay classy.

I hate to have to ask, but where did all the class go? No I’m not talking about students who are missing from school. I’m talking about looking classy, dressing classy, having elegance and taste. The summer heat, especially the Australian summer heat, causes females to dress in some truly tasteless clothing (or lack thereof) without a care that having that much skin on show is actually a turn off. When I go out at night it amazes me that some people have put so much effort and money into wearing nothing. Although, come to think of it, this isn’t just restricted to summer; it seems girls are willing to put up with cold temperatures and strong winds to show off their lack of class all year round. Now I’m not a boy, so I can’t exactly say that my next opinion will be the same as the males of the world. But when I look at girls and point out which ones are most attractive, it’s always the ones leaving something to the imagination. A nice, fitted, mid thigh dress. I don’t want to see plunging necklines and your ass hanging out. And if boys do, then it’s pretty obvious they’re not looking at you because they think you’re a genuine, nice girl. They’re looking at you because you look easy and they’re hoping they won’t have to work too hard to get in your pants. Which are probably already on display for them because your dress stops at your waistline. Good boys want girls who don’t give it all away up front. And boyfriends definitely DO NOT want you showing off things that are for ‘their eyes only’ to every other male in the room. In my opinion, if you’re going to go low cut, it should be your back. Nothing sexier than an open back. It teases you. “You wish this dress was the other way around so you could see my cleavage, but I’m too classy for that!” Now, I’m what you’d call ‘heavy on top’ and I’m aware of it. So I don’t try to accentuate it! I already get frustrated with boys leering at me when I’m covered up, I don’t want to give them anymore reason to look by having things on display. One of the best compliments I’ve ever received was from a boyfriend when I was wearing a tight singlet dress in a floral pattern. It was mid thigh, it didn’t show any cleavage, but had a slightly low scoop neck back (low enough to have to loosen bra straps so you can pull the back bit down, but not too low so you could actually still wear a bra with it). He said to me; “it’s your perfect dress – it doesn’t reveal anything but you still look sexy”. The perfect look.  

The worst part about this lack of class and the emergence of dressing in barely anything, is that fashion is supporting it. The new high shorts look is a prime candidate. Just because the shorts come up higher on your waist does not mean it is acceptable for them to come up higher on your butt. The amount of girls I see with butt cheeks literally hanging out in high short is astounding. You know what else is really classy? See through tops. Now sure, they’re most likely designed so you’ll wear another top underneath it, but who wants to do that when you can just wear a bra (preferably of a contrast colour) and walk around with something that isn’t really a top at all! And of course, we move to the scene of the crime, Supre. It looks like someone went into that store, took all their singlet dresses and hacked at them with a pair of scissors. You may as well just be wearing a bandeau and a belt. And the best part about this? Girls buy them when they don’t have the figure to pull them off! I’d like to think I’m of average weight, but I know not even I can pull those dresses off. There’d be bits of skin poking through the cut outs, and I mean literally poking through them, bulging out because I don’t have a toned as all hell stomach. Why would you want to accentuate the fat parts of your body by putting them on display like that?

I think that’s the worst part about girls wearing the smallest amount of clothing out. They aren’t fit enough to wear them and are only drawing more attention to their gut/muffin top/jiggly butt. Gaining a guy’s attention because you’re dressing for sex is not a good thing, ladies.  For god’s sake – put some clothes on! You might just find that you look a whole lot hotter to the opposite sex when you do.

the (in)significance of life.

“Whatever you do in life will be insignificant, but it's very important that you do it. Because nobody else will. Like when someone comes into your life and half of you says you're nowhere near ready, but the other half says: make her yours forever” – Remember Me.

I like this quote. Probably because it’s relatable to my situation. Possibly because I enjoyed the movie that it came from. But I disagree with it. I don’t think everything you do in life will be insignificant. Don’t get me wrong, a lot of it will be. A lot of life is repetitive and it feels like you’re doing the same thing day in, day out, and nothing’s really changing or resulting from it. But there will be some things, some choices, some activities, which will be the most significant thing you could ever do. They might not affect everyone else, but they will change the course of your life forever. They will change your outlook on life. They will define who you are. And how can anyone argue that that is insignificant?

I think the most significant thing you can do in life is be happy. Mind you, that’s what everyone aspires for and most people, no matter how much good they have in their life, still aren’t fully satisfied. So, instead, maybe the thing is to be content. Most importantly, this has to be something you do on your own. You can’t rely on others to make you happy if you’re not happy for yourself, if you’re not happy with yourself. And that won’t happen if you sit there moaning about how much your life sucks. People that say this are the worst kind of people, for two reasons.

Firstly, because no matter how much you think your life sucks, there is always someone who would trade you for it in a heartbeat because their situation is 12 times worse (don’t ask me why I picked the number 12 – I guess maybe I wanted it to be realistic). Take me, right now, for example. Today I am having a terrible day. I actually have a headache from crying. And I never get headaches so it’s a strange feeling. I’ve barely moved from my bed, content on letting myself be miserable and not bothering with much else. But I know there are people out there, hell, there are people I know, who are going through things worse than I am. And so I let myself be sad for just today because I know I’m in no position to be self indulgent when there are people with real problems out there. And yes, I’m talking about problems such as being ‘food insecure’ (a lovely term picked up from Matt Damon in an episode of Entourage, meaning ‘they don’t know where their next meal is coming from’). Compared to that, my life is peachy.

And secondly, moaning about how much your life sucks means you’re not doing anything to make it better. I’m not going to feel bad for someone, or try to help them, if they aren’t even trying to help themselves. Because in the end, you’re the only one who can truly make yourself happy.

father figure.

As I was writing my blog yesterday my dad came in asking what I was doing. I explained it to him and he said, "I hope you're saying good things about me". When I informed him I wasn't writing about him at all he put on a sad face so I promised to write about him next time, promised to devote an entire blog to him. So that's what I'm doing.

It kind of makes sense that I would devote a blog to him. I've always been a daddy's girl and I look up to my dad in so many ways. He's got the classic Tempest family outlook on life which is summed up by one of his favourite sayings 'control the controllables'. If something's out of your hands, don't waste time worrying about it. That's what I love about my dad, he's so easy going.

I know people often take their families for granted and I know I may not always express my graditude or love for mine as well/often as I should, but I think about how lucky I am to have such a great family all the time. I think about it when things are going wrong because it makes me realise how fortunate I really am. My parents are the ones that if anything were to go wrong with their relationship, not only would me and my brothers be sad, but my friends would be sad about it too just because it's 'Mary and Rob'. There'd be something wrong with the world if it wasn't like that.

My dad's the kind of guy you can have really in depth conversations with one minute and find yourself quoting an adam sandler movie with the next. He's pretty cool as far as dad's go, but it's funnier when he just doesn't quite get it. Like when he refers to "dude where's my car" as "hey dude, someone stole my car" or "snoop dogg" as "snoopy puff dogg". Most importantly though, he doesn't have to say much for me to know what he means, and vice versa.

So to sum up the contents of this blog, I love my dad.

italian.

Today I ventured to the library, something I haven’t done in apparently 2 years because my $10.50 fine was from 2008. My plan was to find a few good books to read to keep me occupied over the holidays. I’ve just finished re-reading twilight – lame and very ‘tween’ of me I know, but you can’t deny a love story where the two characters are so completely confident in their love and devotion to each other that they refer to themselves as the same entity. Anyway, I needed something new. My other reason for the library was because I also plan to learn Italian over my break. It’s been something I’ve always wanted to do. My mum is Italian, making me half Italian, not that you’d guess that by looking at me, and even though my extended family all grew up in Australia I’ve always wanted to be able to speak the language that is part of me. I wish I’d had the time or motivation to do it when I was younger, as maybe it would mean I could have more in depth conversations with my nonna, who’s still much more comfortable with Italian than English. I was offered French in high school, and while I think it’s safe to say I prefer France over Italy, the appeal of learning the language of my family is clearly stronger.

That’s where the name of this blog came from, by the way. I was named michelle mainly because it was my mum’s favourite name when she was a little girl, but my dad was keen on it too because of the Beatles song; “michelle, ma belle, these are words that go together well”. It’s a song that was sung to me often while growing up, but of course ‘ma belle’ is French for ‘my beautiful’. As I’ve always been interested in words and other people’s words, opinions and views on life, I guess I think blogs are a beautiful way of portraying that. And, sticking to my Italian background, ma belle became mia bella.

But back to the learning. I’m still not sure how I feel about learning from a tape. It’s not like the tape can tell where or if you’re going wrong with pronunciation and help you correct your fault, so I’m sceptical over how well this whole learning on my own thing will go. But I’m willing to give it a shot. I guess if I tell you my mum speaks Italian you’ll wonder why I don’t just get her to teach me. Well, my mum’s always been very caring and wanting to help me learn throughout school. She’s a teacher’s assistant, so she’s used to the classroom environment. But when it comes to me and her, student and teacher, it’s never really worked out between us, normally resulting in an argument. So I decided I would learn with the tape and practise with mum. I hope it goes well. I’m so excited to be able to speak fluently in another language. I love seeing people in the street or in the shops walking around talking to each other in another language. It’s so secretive – they could be talking about you and you’d have no idea.

My timing could have been a little better, I will admit. For example it would have been nice to know a little bit of the language when me and my best friend travelled through Europe in early 2009. Wow, almost 2 years ago. It doesn’t seem that long – the memories are still so clear. But at the same time, it seems like a lifetime. I’m excited to go back and know what food I’m ordering at a restaurant and not look like so much of a tourist. Though it’s kind of sad thinking about when/if/who I’ll go with again (I’m sure by this point my best friend and her partner couldn’t stand to be away from each for longer than week), and I don’t know how many other people I could find who want the same experience from travelling as we do. I don’t so much care about the histories and the ‘tourist’ attractions. I don’t want to go to see some statue just because everyone says it’s something to see (except the eiffel tower which is just amazing, especially at night). I want to walk down the street and find my own things to marvel at. I want to be immersed in the city. I want to sit on a rooftop balcony in Venice and people watch all day long, again.

I really hope I can succeed at learning Italian and cross something else off my ‘life to do list’ I created when I was about 15. Free time – you might not be the most boring and lonely thing after all :)

p.s. apparently I can’t keep these blogs short and sweet, so I guess you’ll just have to deal with reading a long rant each time!

spare days.

Nine days since becoming single. Seven days since finishing uni (forever, might I add). With so much spare time on my hands at the moment, I figured there wasn’t a better time than now to start a blog. I’ve always been a fan of writing. I studied journalism so I could have a career in writing, before realising the strict structure of news stories and my apparent lack of interest in news itself meant that I wouldn’t be writing anything I enjoyed. So aside from all the free time, the other reason I’ve started this blog is so I can archive everything I write, and use it to direct magazine editors to, to sample my work and hopefully one day publish some of it.

So anyway, I’ve finished uni forever. Scary, but relatively easy. Easy for now at least, because I don’t have to deal with it right away. My plan has always been to actually have this time as a holiday, like everyone else. When the people I know who haven’t finished their degree go back to uni next year, that’s when I’ll start applying myself and looking for a job. Right now, I need a break. Hell, I deserve a break after 15 straight years of studying. And this summer was going to be so great. No immediate worries, spending it with the people I love. Except of course now I’m minus one of those people because I’m single. I don’t like being single. I’m much better in a relationship. I like making people I care about happy. I don’t like guys coming up to me in a club, I don’t even bother giving them the time of day. I don’t like the idea of having to get comfortable with someone new and find out their little quirks all over again. And obviously after just over a week I’m not even close to being in a state where I’m even capable of thinking about doing that.

They say that if you love someone you should let them go and if they return then they’re yours forever. I agree with the second part – if someone comes back to you, it clearly means they’ve realised there is no one else they’d rather be with. But how can anyone fully agree with the first bit? How can you let someone go if you’re still in love with them? If they’re still in love with you? That doesn’t seem logical. One of my life mottos has always been that you can’t stop people doing what they want to do - it’s their life. So when my ex (not sure how I feel applying that word to him after just nine days when it still hasn’t really sunk in for me yet but anyway), when he said he thought we should end this, I knew I couldn’t stop him or talk him out of it; his decision had been made. And more than anything, I want him to be happy. Even if he finds that happiness with someone else. If he does, then this break up was worth it because he found what he truly deserves. But then, naturally, there’s that little jealous part within me, and I’ve never been a jealous person, but it’s there in the back of my mind continuously poking me like an annoying child who wants your attention. “What if he finds someone better, and you don’t?” “What if you have to settle for second best?” “What if his decision means you have to be unhappy the rest of your life while he gets to live in bliss?” These questions won’t go away no matter how hard I try not to think about them. I don’t want to think about them. And I shouldn’t have to. I’m only 19 for god’s sake. We met at 17. How can you possibly know it’s the right person at 17? Doesn’t everyone have that little voice in their head wondering if there’s someone better? I guess that through this break up, that’s what he’s trying to do, decide whether I am the one he wants to be with in the long run or not. I like to think I’m a logical person and I’d like to think that because I can see his reason in that, it’s helping me be reasonable about his decision to leave. But you know what? As logical as I am, I don’t care. I don’t care if there’s anyone better. If there is, I don’t want to know about them ... unless he finds someone better in which case they better hurry the hell up and get in my life so I can be happy too! I guess the thing I keep coming back to, and perhaps am struggling to say, is how do you know if it’s the right thing to let someone go, if you don’t know what’s waiting for you?

p.s im sorry about so much writing. I doubt anyone except the people I know will be bothered getting all the way through it, but I’ve got a lot on my mind at the moment. Promise I’ll try to cut back next time :)