5 Weeks of joy ahead.

 So I am two days into holidays and I have discovered a plethora of sad things about not being a college. Here is the thing though, its so negative focussing on what sucks, I would much rather be positive about life.
so yes, the hot water at home does run out, but at least if I have shorter showers then I am being kind to the environment. Yes, I have to take my shoes off at the door, but I dont have to walk up two flights of stairs. Yes, there is no pool table here. No upside about that- I miss the pool table! but despite the inferior plumbing and and more defined concept of inside outside and the lack of pool table, there are so many upsides to being back home.
At home I got to hop into mums bed and get a snuggle before she went to work. I am aware that I am turning twenty and that might seem a tad old to be hopping into parents bed but it is my firm belief that there are two types of people in the world; Those who hop into their parents bed; and those who want to.
yesterday I went to a work related conference with mum and got to pretend that I am a contributing member of the workforce, something that I dearly miss. Today I slept in despite the pizza oven construction noises that are going on outside my window and when I woke up had pancakes and DnMs with Dad.
good start to the holidays! I cant complain so I wont.

This is unashamed procrastination.

So I am thinking about starting a bit of a series in my blog entitled ‘Things I hate about not being at college.’ Unfortunately I am still at college until Monday so I cant start it just yet, but just for starters here are some things I hate about being at college during the tail end of exams:

1, my college bffl has left, leaving my evenings free and depressing

2, noise curfew, although slackened, is still in place. The only reason that its slackened is because there is NOBODY HERE! Or at least not in my end of the corridor.

3, I have to study.

4, My friends have to study and I feel guilty distracting them.

It’s almost over and then I get to home for a month and start missing college properly!

 

Rajon Rondo is a cutie-pie

My sister and I have a pact. I am not to ever stop playing soccer and she is not to ever buy an Iphone. You may think this seems somewhat ridiculous however it was put in place for some very important reasons. I will explain why my end of the bargain needs to be held up.

Year 12 for me was terrible. Often I would be bogged down in studying or stressing because I am not studying enough and I would think that it might be better for me to skip soccer practise. It was never a good idea. Going out into the rain/wind/bitter cold to run around for an hour and a half sounded horribly unpleasant but in the end it ALWAYS made me feel better and inspired me to continue studying. Playing soccer allowed me a chance to give my brain some fresh air; It let me focus my energy and skills on something that yielded immediate results; Kicking a ball gave me a channel for releasing pent up anger and frustration and drinking wine and eating cheese with the women afterwards let me socialise and give me space from my family (whom I love dearly.) Whenever I didn’t play soccer I became, for want of a better word, twitchy. The odd thing about this twitchiness is I didn’t even notice. I would think that I was fine and that life was just getting a bit harder but it was never until I played soccer again that I realised that I hadn’t been able to zone out of life for a moment. You know that feeling of calm, control and disconnect from stress that people get from yoga? I get that feeling when I can sprint down a soccer pitch whilst dribbling a ball.

This year I started college. The first 4 months of it I felt as though someone had dragged me backwards through a swimming pool by my ankle and I was just trying to get regular gulps of air. That’s not to say it wasn’t fun. I decided though, spurred on by the $400 registration fee and timetabling clashes, that I would give soccer a miss for the time being. My justification was that there were plenty of things going on that could keep me exerting energy, I could play pool whenever I wanted and if I started getting twitchy I could go for jogs.

Oh Cel. Rookie error.

Tonight I played basketball. Emma came and begged me to play because there were not enough girls to play and they couldn’t find anyone and some unnamed sources had pointed her in my direction. I told her how terrible I was as evidenced by the interfloor mixed basketball and I told her I would play because I’d hate to see people let down and, lets be realistic, I cant say no to sport. I was so worried because I last time I played basketball I felt so clumsy and out of place, which was an unfamiliar and disconcerting feeling given that playing sport is my nirvana. When we started playing I realised that two things were very different.

1, my attitude. I went into it willing to give it my all and I somehow managed to talk myself into giving me a break about my skills because it was only the second time I had ever played it and nobody is perfect (hear that mean Cel NOBODY is perfect!).

2, This was all girls. Now I’m not saying all girls are easy to play on or not aggressive because its just not true. But when playing all girls and people you don’t know its hells easier to be aggressive and assertive.

By the end of the game I had learnt a few things about myself. I am fit enough to play a zoning game of basketball, which is a nice feeling that my lungs/ legs didn’t let me down. (this of course may have been due to the fact that I wasn’t trying to everything all at once and give it my 120%). I know very little about the rules and strategies of the game, which I plan to rectify with a few sauce bottles and the expertise of Colin on my floor. The last and most important thing I learnt is that it really doesn’t matter which sport I am playing, I can hustle and get that ball even if I cant do anything with it once its in my possession. Once it’s a challenge the opposition girl will be damned if she thinks she is going to win a game of ‘who wants it more?’

So when I finished playing (and winning I might add) I realised something. I was no longer twitchy. I felt SO GOOD. So I think I am going to start playing basketball regularly because even though I am not the best this is a perfect opportunity to learn and remain twitchless for the rest of the year.

I just ate a box of tiny teddies. I feel sick but I refuse to feel guilty.

I have a photo that I really want to show people. it’s a naked, albeit modestish, photo of me. I really love it because although I haven’t changed a single thing about how my body looks. While I was taking it I wasn’t thinking about how to sit so as to look the skinniest or to try and look at all sexually appealing. It turned out exactly how I wanted it to. Sometimes I think that I would like to show people because I really love it but then I remind myself that my avenue for showing people photos is via the internet and I’m not entirely comfortable with there being a naked picture of me on the internet. Accompanying this photo is a paragraph I wrote in a moment of anger and frustration with how everyone around me seemed to think that they had a right to comment on my body. The following comments were nearly all made in about the space of a month if I remember correctly..

I get told that my boobs are huge, that my boobs are small.

That I am ‘clearly larger’ than friends and that I am a ‘tiny little thing.’

I have been called a bitch for being skinny, I have been called a fat bitch for eating doughnuts.

I have had my eating choices questioned so frequently that I have developed an automatic response.

I wear clothes comfortably in sizes 8,10,12,14, S,M, L.

I get praised for losing weight and asked with kind concern if I have gained any.

I get told to ‘flaunt it if you’ve got it’ and told off for inadvertently showing too much boob.

I feel guilty for not being self deprecating and vain for thinking that I am beautiful.

I am what society would call the ‘right’ size, and I struggle to cope with the pressure that is placed on me with regards to my body. How then does everyone cope, who doesn’t fit society’s mould of what a woman should look like?

Since coming to college I noticed that pressure on young women doesn’t necessarily come only from other people, it comes from them. How have we trained women to think that they don’t deserve food? Food is what we need to live and yet for women, they are doing a bad thing eating it.

“oh, I want *insert food here* but I shouldn’t..”

“This tastes too delicious to be healthy.”

Screw that! I want to be able to have dessert two nights in a row without feeling the need to justify myself. I want to sit in the comm and polish off a block of chocolate with a group of friends without anyone mentioning weight. I want to be allowed to think that I beautiful without it being a personal affront to everyone else.

I feel powerless to do anything but something HAS to change!