Well, I wanted to get one more post in before the turn of the decade.

Please note: if this post is horrible, rambling, ungrammatical or in any other way offensive, I apologise in advance.

First of all, this article is very cute, you all ought to go read it.

Hmmm, clichéd as it sounds, I can't believe it's New Year's Eve already. I suppose it shouldn't be that much of a surprise, given that I can't even remember what went on this time last year. Actually, I can recall New Year’s Eve of 1999 with more clarity, even though nothing really happened. All I really remember is dozing off on the living room floor in front of the TV, waking a few minutes after 12 AM, and feeling mildly disappointed that I hadn’t managed to stay awake for that particular countdown. I was 6, and very little was important back then. When I was a few years older, I reflected that I was probably lucky to have been alive and vaguely cognizant during the turn of the... millennium? but the passing of time didn’t matter much then, either. At 16, it seems much more significant. I’m not a geriatric I swear, and this has more to do with my own parochial life than with humanity in general. Still, unless someone lives in complete isolation, surely their experiences reflect upon mankind as a whole.

Between the ages of 6 and, perhaps, 10, my interests dwelt with friends, toys and books. Pretty typical of a kid, really. There was the origami, the gemstones, Redwall, Harry Potter and Deltora.

School was fun but rarely stimulating, all music save classical was for losers, and my family were still cool. Watching documentaries was a great pastime, and I tried (and failed) to start a diary about 3 times. No one I didn’t know meant anything, except perhaps some famous dead people. September 11 was relegated to that morning when my muzzy mind registered that something was amiss.

Our trip to Bali was particularly memorable. We spent 40 minutes bargaining for a ring that cost 25000 rupiah, the equivalent of $5. We went parasailing, and I fell off a jet ski. All this, of course, before the Bali bombings.

I gleefully memorized the names of the two bugs that were said to be polluting Sydney’s tap water, though I still have no idea how to spell them.

I was beyond spoilt, and the only person who seemed to notice was my eldest sister. That was probably instrumental in the breakdown of her relationship with my parents, come to think of it.

So, what changed? Well, school, for one thing. Opportunity Class was/is not a crime, but it certainly challenged. I was no longer pampered and popular, no longer the smartest kid in the class, no longer assured in the knowledge that I had loyal friends. I spent lunchtimes huddled in a corner of the playground, feeling simultaneously invisible and glaringly conspicuous. School work was taxing, I made mistakes and my teachers never refrained from providing constructive criticism. Criticism? Who needed that?

From this angle, it was a character building experience. The world, I discovered, did not revolve around me. Fancy that! Nor, I realized, did possession of an oversized ego do me any favours.

11 to 15 was the era of music and males. The former came packaged with blindy interaction, the perfect antidote to my disastrous school life. You, if any of you are reading this, were a fascinating and occasionally friendly lot. Crude, intimidating, patronizing but somehow... I couldn’t stay away from you. Though I was too young and immature to be taken seriously, I didn’t know it then.

Music was Michael Buble and Kelly Clarkson, Avril Lavigne and Evanescence. Later, it was Crowded House and The Whitlams, Aled Jones, Chopin. Music brought people together, it divided the diehards into their little cliques, it was stirring and relaxing, it was cathartic and didactic. Above all, it was fun. Plus, I loved my disorganized music library, relegated though it was to a 5-digit number to be shoved in people’s faces at opportune moments.

When I was around 12, the ‘crush’ developed into something more intense, and from there everything just went downhill. I was endowed with a healthy dose of skepticism where all things love-related were concerned, this evaporated at the onset of adolescence.

As I fumbled my way into acceptance at high school and the blindy melodrama abated somewhat, I became afflicted with that debilitating and rather inconvenient ailment known as ‘love’. Don’t laugh, it did all sorts of horrible things to my head!

Well, after wasting 2-3 years of my life chasing a couple of people and dabbling more than briefly in the art of reciprocation, I have been granted another dose of skepticism, this time of all things longevity-related. Aah, such is life.

(Footnote: all relevant emotions have been suppressed for brevity’s sake, and to preserve the reputation of yours truly).

So whilst several countries were being screwed over by Mr. Bush’s fictitious WMDs and the world was cowering from bird flu and Sars, I matured. Still as self-centred as ever, of course, few teenagers aren’t.

I discovered the internet, in all its potentially catastrophic splendor. Wikipedia became my new best friend, I managed to keep a rambling journal half alive and I grabbed a Facebook account at least a year before it became popular. I even have a folder of favourited YouTube videos, and it has about 200 links in it! I succumbed to the Twitter frenzy, but I never, ever fell victim to Myspace. Even so, I am undeniably a digital native.

2007, enter politics. Australian Liberal Party FTW, or something. Aah, what a fool I was. I knew the facts (or some of them), I just didn’t know myself. And to think I supported John Howard in the federal election... Don’t worry all you dyed-in-the-wool lefties, I was censured for it by at least three people.

Fanfiction came and went. I read about 10 Harry’s dating 10 different chicks in 10 alternate universes, before Sword of Truth provided some variety and another Christmas rolled around.

Miriani, the only game I was ever addicted to. I squandered literally hundreds of hours on it, almost became romantically attached to one of the characters, had my dreams shattered by Drew Anderson, and earned the trust of the most proficient pilot in the galaxy. Not bad for 6 months’ intensive gameplay, no?

And as the global economy crumbled and the United States found its first black president, I was finally becoming aware of everything! By everything, I mean current affairs and politics, poverty and the trade disparity, systemic abuses of human rights and Uncle Sam’s real agenda. Work choice laws were for those narcissistic, egocentric fatcats, climate change was going to kill everyone tomorrow and the Iraq war? Puh-leez!

2009: the most dynamic year yet. 2006 came a close second, but it can’t beat the following:

• Having a life changing experience. Over the space of one weekend


• Receiving two of the most fantabulously awesome birthday cards ever


• Having both parents forget one’s 16th birthday!


• Watching one’s social circle disintegrate, and being powerless to stop the process


• Rubbing shoulders with some of the most creative, intelligent and inspiring individuals in the country


• Reading two newspapers. Regularly.


• Pulling wayyyyyy too many all-nighters for the sake of those damned assignments


• Learning to master the essay! ‘Nuff said


• Studying for an exam. Actually studying! Properly!


• Reading for the sake of reading


• Loathing oneself with such intensity that the result is irrepressible sobbing


• Loving school


• Looking forward to the future.

So, 2019. I’ll be 26, with any luck I’ll have graduated from uni, and chances are I’ll have forgotten all about this post. Will I be married? Sure hope not. Will I be happy with my lot? Who knows?

And what about the rest of the world? What about the elements of life that really matter, those I have no control over? Will anyone be on track for their 2020 carbon emissions reduction targets? Will there even be any targets? Will absolute poverty be reduced? Will the Afghan war be in the history books yet?

At this point, the frivolous discussion taking place between a dozen adults in the next room is looking very inviting. As is the guacamole sitting in front of me, and the prospect of not having to think. Enjoy the result of yesterday’s ‘Oh my God, 2010? Not already!’ moment. Happy New Year, everyone! May you break every resolution you never made.

Aah, life

Some people are so... nice. Nice doesn’t do them justice. Lovely isn’t quite right either, kind is a better descriptor. I was telling Mevandi and Amanpreet about the special provisions (i.e. extra time) I get for exams, and about how some high-ranking official type people decide on the amount of time at a board meeting each year. And the immediate response I got was a concerned comment along the lines of, “Oh, but what if they don’t give you enough time?”

This probably sounds really stupid, but that reaction meant so much to me. It wasn’t at all patronising, nor was it the knee-jerk reaction of ‘You get extra time? But but but, doesn’t that give you an unfair advantage?’ that I’ve come to dread and half believe myself. It was just the manifestation of a... desire, I suppose, to achieve fairness and equality of opportunity. And this was at a school where competitiveness is our version of sexual frustration and every precious mark is fought for and prized.

Aah, yes, camp. I nearly forgot about it. Camp was... interesting, sorta, although only very select bits of it were particularly noteworthy. Frolicking on the grass was one of them, probably one of the most carefree hours I’ve had in months.

Oh, and there was also the predictable game of Truth or Dare (Truth or truth) in the middle of the night, during which we half-ashamedly divulged our silly little secrets about love, sex, parents and career paths to one another, by the intermittent light of a torch. We really were typical teenage girls, just for that one night. It was actually quite fun, focusing on something other than ATARs and university degrees. The kind of thing people versify and consequently immortalise, frivolous as it is.

Well, back to nerddom... my first Year 12 Economics assessment task is over. And I think something revolutionary happened! I think, I developed a nice, solid, possibly productive study pattern to follow! True, I developed it about 24 hours before the assessment task commenced, but hey! Study pattern! Desperate times call for desperate measures, in this case pulling my act together. And yes, desperate times was a very apt description of the situation. We had 3 chapters of the textbook to study for the exam, I only read Chapter 3 the day beforehand.

Anyway, my pattern is the following: 1 hour of note making/studying, 15 minute break, 1 hour of work, 15 minute break, etc etc. So on Sunday, I set alarms on my phone so as not to be tempted out of my routine, and during periods of study, sustained myself with the thought that I’d be able to relax for 15 minutes after a while. Whenever something distracted me, some random thought or urge to do something, I forcibly ejected it from my mind and re-focused on the work I had to do. I set myself goals, eg summarise 20 pages within the hour, and rewards, eg during your break, you can have a chocolate. The goals were not always achieved, but just having them firmly rooted in my mind helped so much, and gave me a reason to work as efficiently as possible.

And it really did work! Or was that just my adrenaline working wonders...

Either way, it’s over and I don’t think I screwed it up too badly. And God it feels wonderful to be bludging like the other ¾ of the grade. Word games, trivia, parties, political discussions and scabbing merits off awesome Drama/English teachers, that’s what school should be about.

Graduation Assembly tomorrow. I’m actually almost looking forward to it! As the year has progressed, I seem to have become increasingly fond of school. Ironically, by the time I leave Year 12, I will probably have become attached to it. Really, really attached.