Twas the night before uni, when all through the house \ every bastard was stirring, including the dog.
It’s that time of year again: long commutes back forth with reading material to absorb, fully charged MP3 player and earphones (that aren’t busted yet) to ignore painful chit-chat (outside of class) and time off work to perfect my build order for StarCraft 2 (I jest).
So what makes this time different from every other? Well, this semester shall be my last—at least for this degree, unless they drag me by the throat for another year.
I’m nearing a fork on the road where I have the option to either pluck the cutlery from the asphalt or I can hop over it and sprint away, flailing my arms as though I’m being chased by rogue-banshee-she devils.
The devils represent society’s push for young souls to join the workforce full-time (none of this casual/reserve nonsense) whereas the fork symbolises even furtherer education.
My options are not as polarised as I suggest however. Our society (Australian society) is obsessed with this binary of work or study. Sure, if you prefer to ‘Facebook’ all day or isolate yourself then there is nothing stopping you from accomplishing any of that. There is also no shame in these choices (unless there are people suffering out of their dependence on you which in that scenario is not wise and should be rectified). There are so many alternatives to choose from which do not involve attending lectures or stapling documents. Sadly, most of these alternatives are frowned up by those who uphold the dominant binary mentality.
Ever the hypocrite, I am indulging the majority by working and studying, but I do so because I choose to. I have met too many people who feel that they need to do either or both in order to satisfy the expectations of their peers and their family (and in most cases, strangers). There is nothing wrong with doing your own thing. Nothing. Nothing at all. If you want to be a recluse, be a recluse. If you are passionate about re-drafting a manuscript and you don’t want the distractions—do it. Like Bhutan, I measure wealth by happiness. Do what makes you happy (so long as it’s legal and if it isn’t legal then so long as you’re not hurting others).
It’s a school night so I should retire for the evening.
Oh yeah, I mightn’t see you in the morn so Happy 20th Birthday, Elizabeth. I still recall meeting you for the first time in hospital with Cal (Cal and I were toddlers and we were mucking around under trolleys and things). Thinking about it now I can visualise the car ride before we reached Williamstown (my apologies for the disjointed continuity, I’m rolling with memories as they pour). The idea of having a sister, a new sibling, didn’t seem to bother me at the time (at least that’s what I think I remember). I’m not saying that we didn’t care, quite the contrary, when Cal and I finally saw you it probably felt like you were always around. By that I mean we clicked like friends do when they meet someone who is awesome. Obviously the family connection is more profound. We need only peruse photos of all the awesome times us siblings had as a trio. Before Sheridan came along …
I love all of my siblings (yes Sheridan, you too) and may we share many decades of future craziness.
Happy Birthday again 🙂
Here’s a glimpse of the gift.