Two thousand and sixteen | a post about plans and naivety

*Plan - Get diploma, get job, be a success (and have a dope wardrobe)


Fetty Wap said
"Plans don't go well for me, I just live each day like I aint gonna live the next one"
Nice in theory Fetty but just incase I do live until next week, I have to work a shitty job to pay my shitty rent.

Mike Tyson said
"Every body has plans, until they get hit"

When I was 16 I made a plan. I was going to meet the love of my life at 20, get married at 22 and start a family at 25.
Well shit.
I'm 23 and I don't know any guys I can stand for longer than 15 minutes let alone any who could afford a wedding... 
I can't dress myself in matching socks let alone be responsible for another human being and I can't see that changing in the next 5 years. 
Last year I made a plan to move to London and travel the world with my best-friend. I guess you could say, Mike, that didn't work out. (Read More)  
Six months later I came home broke (I had no money), broken (I hated myself) and without a plan.
I spent the summer getting to know a more humble version of myself.
I made some money (and spent some money), lost 15kg and made a plan*

I always imagined myself as a writer. More specifically,  sat outside a lush wine bar drinking Pinot Noir while I write to deadline something heartbreaking profound and someone pays me for it. 

With an English degree and some life experience (the kind you get from experiencing a lot of pain and loss at a young  age) not actually being enough to pursue a career of any kind of journalism I decided to obtain a piece of a paper that said I was qualified. 

As such I've found myself back in Dunedin, desperately trying to be a more refined person than I was during my uni-days and pretending I'm not on a student budget and my over draft isn't climbing than my hemlines in 2013. 

Trying to be an adult in a student town turned out to be a tussle I wasn't expecting also, with most of my friends having graduated already and moved on to graduate jobs in graduate cities.   Establishing myself as a successful 23 year old who went to bars at 7pm instead of preloading with scrumpy in a cold flat would have been easier had I any friends who could afford to do that (and had I been able to afford it myself..)  

Nothing makes you feel old like going to Macs Bar in Dunedin on a Saturday night...

Do I feel pressure to become a success  while I'm still considered young, and relevant?
Yah.
Am I terrified of the life I want?
Shit yes I am.   

​
A nauseating tumblr post told me in 2011, "if your dreams don't scare you - they aren't big enough". 

My dreams don't scare me because they're big, I don't want to be rich or famous. 
My dreams scare me because they're completely achievable, because if I don't make them happen its because I didn't try hard enough and after  English degree I didn't really deserve, without attending 90 percent of my lectures, trying scares the shit out of me. 

My dreams scare me because I've already told everyone I was going to live them. I've talked a big talk for 23 years and now that its time to start walking I'm not sure my legs work. 

The truth is, half the time I don't know if I want to faint or throw up.

What I know about anxiety is that is no representation of who you are or who you can be and its no excuse to sell yourself short.
So this year the "plan" is to fake it until I make it.
Sometimes that means acting confident when I'm shitting myself. 
Sometimes it means blowing my pay check on Beau Coops in the name of "dress for success" (confidence comes in many forms okay, one of them is silk merino.. anyway.. )

In reality, I'm just like everyone else bluffing their way through life.
But on here I'll be honest with you. 
Because I don't understand half of what I read in the world section of the ODT.
Because I couldn't care less about cricketers.
Because I don't know if I can name 10 New Zealand politicians. 
Because I can't tell you the capital of  Nicaragua
Because this post is riddled with grammatical errors and I have no intention of proofing  it.
 
This has been an overdue update and an admission of naivety.
You're welcome.

All my love,
Blurryface.

NB: The capital of Nicaragua is Managua - thanks wiki.