IT’S NOT YOU, IT’S ME

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I mean, has anyone ever talked about how your early 20s sometimes feel like re-entering the world as a tiny, scared, clueless baby? Oh, your 20s!! I remember when I was 20. Don’t you remember when we were 20, Sharon? This is the reception I get every time I tell the Sharons of the world I’m 20. That, or they don’t believe me and instead mistake me for a fifteen-year-old. One of the two.

But really, as much as these years are full of unabashed, self-destructive fun, a lot of the time they’re terrifyingly undefined, neither-here-nor-there moments spent questioning everything you’ve done over the last 20-odd years. There’s always the potential that it is just me having a privileged white existential crisis living out here in a huge share house (The bathroom is just like… so hard to keep clean! Ugh.), but I’d like to think it’s a little more than that.

When you spend so many years knowing a few things, but knowing them very well- your family house, high school friends, the three hangout spots you frequented on the weekends- a new city brings a truly technicolour world of experiences you were completely clueless about. Which you realise are most things. And because young folk are malleable, absorbent and curious creatures, you begin to change.

Maybe, in a moment of weakness, you give yourself a wildly bad drunk haircut with a pair of blunt scissors. A nose ring. An earring. Any piece of metal anywhere, really. You buy a bum bag or an exorbitantly expensive pair of sneakers with what should be grocery money. Maybe you date a boy, or a girl, or both and realise it was a terribly tragic, temporarily life-shattering mistake and you cry and do the cliché breakup things you told yourself you’d never do. It’s confusing and awkward. Like puberty. Except you’re too old to blame it on puberty anymore. I mean, you could. Sometimes I still do. It’s just too hard to resist when you still look fifteen.

Well it turns out I am the reigning queen of subjecting myself to awkward and confusing encounters (subjecting is a nice way of putting it: more like choosing to dive in, head-first). And while this blog was, and will always be, a wonderful aspect of my inappropriately adolescent life, I think it needs to grow up.

Because I’m not nearly as interested in a consistent photo stream of me in different poses anymore. Not that there’s anything wrong with that- I just think I’m not nearly as good at it as I thought I was and, in the spirit of transparency, it’s probably a little detrimental. I’d like this blog (and connected social media platforms, if you will) to be more reflective of my current chaotic-and-clueless state. I think I’ll write more and hopefully it will be entertaining. I really haven’t thought much past that. In life, I mean. That’s about all for the forward planning.

So I hope you enjoy this for all that it may or may not amount to.

Izzy

a year

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A note about New Years: I reserve the opinion that they essentially always suck, are subpar and anticlimactic. Like I said, they remain on the scale of standardly shitty but a few good ones really shine through: the one where I had strep throat and scarlet fever, the one where a car ran over my phone and, most recently, the one where at age 20 I was grounded and punished by being forced to attend a 4-year-olds crazy hat party with my parents.

Although, with my 20 years of (clearly) unparalleled wisdom and insight I have come to realise New Year’s Eve doesn’t necessarily preface the year you’re going to have. Neither does New Year’s Day.

My mum has this weird superstitious tradition of always eating black-eyed peas on January 1st. I think it’s an American thing. Anyway, we’re in Italy and she couldn’t find her special beans at any of the fancy bodegas- so I reminded her that we’ve had some pretty shitty years when we have eaten the beans. She agreed and we’re probably going to eat leftover pizza tomorrow instead.

So, to end it on a cynical note, it doesn’t matter if you eat the beans, New Year’s Eve is overhyped and resolutions are just glorified to-do lists. You don’t have to beat yourself up over not going to the gym 5 days a week or cutting back on your screen time.

Regardless, I hope your 2018 is wonderful. I mean, Trump got elected this year. It’s only up from here, right? RIGHT?!!

symmetry

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Wearing: Thrifted tee, thrifted skirt, Reebok sneakers.
hey6 hey1Melbourne is finally lifting itself out of the annual sad seasonal smog to bring us all new life and- wait for it- sunshine! I don’t think I really noticed the correlation between the seasons and my moods until this winter. Now, instead of rolling my corpse off a sizzling electric blanket at 8 every morning, I’m cleansing, toning and moisturising at 7, out the door (happily) by 8 and managing to squeeze a feel-good funny compilation Youtube video break in there. A new woman.

Despite feeling a looming existential crisis most of the time, that is. Early 20’s are hard. Is this the peak of my attractiveness? My housemate Nina said this to me the other day whilst we were laying on her bead, staring at the ceiling with bowls of two minute noodle remnants sprawled across the duvet cover. “You know this is probably the most attractive we’ll ever be?” God, I hope not. Yesterday I arrived at work with greasy coconut oil residue all over my head from a failed hair mask, dirty overalls and stubby little excuses for fingernails because I had bitten them all off during my last lecture. Does everybody else struggle to have it together as much as I do????????? Just curious. Anyway- I better go and work on that. Enjoy these photos of me looking more together than yesterday.

backyard bandits

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It’s been a ridiculous amount of time since I last posted here- as per usual- and I am left scrambling trying to remember what happened in the past month or so. Not a lot, probably- I’m working in a new job, it’s really cold in Melbourne, we still have mice. Like I said- uneventful. Some of these photos were taken on film last time I went home. Posting them now because I miss Adele and now Kurt’s home too, meaning everyone’s having fun without me in Queensland. Never thought I’d make that statement.

Honestly, it’s been so damn cold I haven’t had the chance to wear anything aside from jeans and unflattering knitwear- I’ve never been so excited for summer in my life. Talk soon xx