A Trite or Obvious Remark

 I'm on draft one of my first novel.

I was about to write "never in a million years did I think I would be saying that". But it's really not true.

The correct sentence is "never in a million years did I think it would take me this long to get my shit together and write it."

It's not my first attempt. I wrote around 35,000 words of something many years ago in NaNoWriMo. If you know anything at all about NaNoWriMo then you will know that I completely failed, because the point of it, being short for National Novel Writing Month, is that you complete a novel in the month. 50,000 words. You hear me earlier? I wrote 35,000 words. Fail. 
But that was my first attempt.

NaNoWriMo sadly doesn't exist anymore. Did I let that stop me? Yes. 

Well. Honestly yes, but no. I did in fact start my novel in November of 2024, and here we are in September of 2025 and I am currently at... *checks notes*... 62,897 words. That was from scratch. Why am I bragging? It took me almost a year to get to 50,000 words outside of NaNoWriMo. The point I'm trying to make is I wrote a different story than those 35k from years ago. That was probably back in 2017 or something. God knows what I was on about back then.

But the truth is that I am about to turn 35 years old, and as somebody who has been "a writer" since they were a kid, I am definitely not amused by the fact that I have only now somehow found the strength and the energy and the motivation to actually fucking do it. When I sit down and think about it, I mean really think about it, I suppose all of my ramblings and thoughts that I have put down on some kind of metaphorical or literal paper in the last 35 years has been me working toward this. But not in the sense that I wish. This story that I'm working on, it's so deeply ingrained in me, so utterly, beautifully flowed out of me, that I wish I had started it years ago. I wish that I had the courage to start it years ago. Although I barely have the courage to continue with it now, to be fair.

It hasn't been easy. Some days it flies out of me like last night's curry (Christ, what a horrible image) but some days it is like trying to draw blood from a stone. But the story, oh my fucking god the story, it is so, so important for me to tell.

Well, here we are, I guess. Over 80% of my way to my word count goal to try and write the story that I have always wanted written, but this time, I'm the one at the keyboard. Wish me luck, I guess.

Vinyl Sticker #2

Here's something that I wrote on Wednesday, May 19th 2010. I was 19 years old. Now, 15 years later, I am 34 years old. Let's see what's changed, shall we? My 2025 responses will be in red.

Wednesday, May 19, 2010

Vinyl Sticker

I raised a question recently asking "Do you know who you are?"

I know who I am. But explaining it is something that everybody struggles with. You can write out aspects of yourself or your views, opinions, hopes, dreams etc. but does that really EXPLAIN who you are?
Not really.

But as far as I can describe, this is me.

I’m only nineteen but I often feel much older. I don’t like it when people put me down because of my age – I’ve been through a lot in my nineteen years and don’t appreciate people who can’t or won’t see that. I'm 34 now and I feel for this girl. She had been through a lot, but she had a lot more to come. She thought that having lost her Mum at 13 years old would be the worst thing that had ever happened to her and that she was bulletproof from here on out. How very wrong she was. 

I feel lucky to run out of fingers when I count all the people that I love. Still agree. My circle is small, it was always small, and maybe it's not the same circle, but the people are still fantastic and I'm happy with that.

I think that everybody really does know who they are and people who say they don’t are simply in denial. I’m the only person I know who actually knows and admits this. People are always taught to accept people for who they are; learn to accept yourself for who you are, too. I still agree with this, however I think that people need to change as they grow older, too.

At any given time, if I could be anywhere in the world, it would be drinking beer in the sun somewhere. I really am that easily amused. Still live for this part of summer.

I cry in war movies. A lot. I don't watch war movies anymore.

I always manage to stretch my pay right out to an empty bank account by pay day. I have got much better with this, thankfully.

Anzac Day and Australia Day make me happier than Christmas. I think that the allure for this was the tradition of getting together at Narrabeen RSL which has since closed down. Not sure I feel the same way anymore since then.

I often wish I lived in the country. I think I’d like it better there. I still wonder about this.

I don’t mind being independent but it’s nice to be able to depend on somebody every now and then. I've basically been very rarely single since I was 19.

I’ve never tried to quit smoking, and I’m not sure I want to either. I quit smoking in 2023. I do vape though.

Men don’t look like they used to anymore. They all look like they’re straight out of Kings of Leon or something. 19 year old me was NOT ready for concrete cowboys.

I have a strong hate for the expression “Murphy’s Law!” It makes me cringe. Oh god, I say this now.

I like smoking weed, but I’ve seen how it changes people so I never push my own limits. I have a prescription and I have some every now and then. Still never too much.

The smell of bushfires makes me smile. For such a terrible natural disaster, it somehow reminds me that everything is okay. I'm an RFS volunteer firefighter since 2017.

I didn’t like high school and have no regrets for leaving at sixteen. I think it was the best thing I ever did. I don't really have an opinion on this anymore, to be honest.

My favourite people in the world are people I have only met once. I really don't know what I was romanticising here.

I trust everyone unless they give me a reason not to. Still true.

I don’t know what I’m going to do when my Dad dies one day. I live in fear that it will happen before we’re ready. My Dad just turned 68 last week, and we go for coffee and breakfast every couple of weeks.

I stopped eating meat when I was sixteen but couldn’t bring myself to give up seafood. I eat all food now. Even steak, although I don't really like it. If it wasn't for my boyfriend loving it, I would happily live without it.

Sometimes I wish I was alongside Sal Paradise in “On The Road”. Travelling around America in the 50’s and eating apple pie. Still sounds pretty ideal.

I sometimes secretly think that people walk all over me because I’m too understanding. I can’t help it if I really do understand and accept other’s decisions. Have been burned in relation to this still all these years later.

I live for Mexican food. Anybody who knows me today knows that this is a fact.

I cry sometimes, but I’m strong. Just tell it to me straight. Yep.

Sometimes I wish I was a gardener. I think it would be nice to work outside with plants. Ha! I've been working for a tree services company since I was 20, and now I am studying to be an Arborist and spend 50% of my work hours driving around looking at trees. I also have 30+ houseplants and many propagations and seeds / corms growing. How funny.

Nothing irritates me more than when people speak to me in broken-English. I’m not trying to be racist, but I just really can’t stand it. I've grown up a bit here, but I understand what I was getting at.

I’m the ‘go-to’ person in my social and work life. Whenever somebody has a problem, they tend to come to me for help or advice. And I don’t mind one bit. Still true, in my work life at least. It's exhausting but it's an honour. It has burned me out before though.

I think I could very easily be an alcoholic. It worries me sometimes, but not as much as not being able to drink. I've had a problem with alcohol on and off for about ten years. Maybe longer, apparently, based on this comment.

I read the news every morning and regret it straight after. Sometimes it’s best not to know. Definitely don't read the news every day anymore. But due to the absolute explosion of social media, you tend to find out the news against your wishes anyway.

Anxiety gets the better of me sometimes. I’m scared of everything. I have learned to control my anxiety pretty well in the last few years since being diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder. It was an eye-opener as to what was causing my anxiety and then therefore much easier to manage. Plus, medication of course.

I love pasta but hate spaghetti. I’m not sure why. Still not a fan of spaghetti.

I would put avocado on everything if I could. Still addicted to avocado.

I think I like the idea of writing more than I actually like it. Around about 60k words into my first novel. I still like the idea of it more than I like it, though.

I’d rather keep my mouth shut than argue with somebody. Sometimes the extra stress is just not really worth it. Definitely not true when it comes to romantic relationships. But everything else, pretty much can't be bothered.

I don’t think that ANYBODY deserves to die. Unsure.

I don’t really like NRL very much, but I pretend to because it’s fun to watch. Still true.

And finally, I’m very well aware that I am a hypocrite, but so are you. Probably!

Beneath the Permafrost

I'm trying to find a way to express this without having to say the actual words, but I've come to realise that the actual words are important. The actual words are the only way that I can get this across - to myself - without confusing myself even further.
I've posted on this blog for half my life now. Just for me. The only reason it's public is in case anybody finds it one day and assimilates to anything I'm saying. But it's mostly for me. I know who I am, and why I do it, and that's all that matters to me.

But the fact of the matter is, I've never been this hurt before. I wish that I could find some artistic or beautiful, romantacised way to explain it, but there's no better way to get this across to myself, as I said earlier, other than I am just really hurt. It doesn't matter how many ways I twist it, how many ways I can remind myself that I understand why this has happened, and it doesn't matter that I can relate to it in some way, and it doesn't matter that I have sympathies towards the whys and hows. The bottom line is that I have been hurt. The bottom line is that I dug inside myself time and time again to offer forgiveness and fight the repeatitive, relentless doubt that crawled through every corner of my mind. I chose to believe this time would be different. I chose to try, time and time again, to allow him to change, and he never did. We sobbed together and wished things would be different, but patterns kept repeating. Secrets kept from me. Actions hidden. Addictions or compulsions shrouded in shame. And the gaslighting - oh, god, the gaslighting. Once everything is back out in the open again, going to sleep next to that person for the first time and realising that you have done this hundreds of times before, not knowing that they were living a secret life behind your back? It kills me every time.
And now, something new is happening to me. I'm not sure who I can trust anymore. The thought that somebody I am so close to can continue to lie to me and get away with it - how much of a fairytale am I really living, in other areas of my life? Do my family not really like spending time with me? What about friends? Collegues? What if I am just really, truly that horribly naieve. What if everyone I know is taking me for a fucking ride. How could I possibly know?
It feels like a horrible, unwelcome paranoia that penetrates my brain and I am so tired of it. I have always been a relatively confident person - I have my insecurities like anybody else - but I have never really questioned my friends or family's love for me, or whether or not they want to spend time with me, or anything like that at all. But suddenly, all these thoughts are clouding my brain. And I am not stupid - I know that it is irrational, I know that I am experiencing this because of something else that has been happening to me, but I can't deny that it doesn't effect me. I am tired of it, and I just want to be able to trust the person that I am supposed to be able to rely on more than anything.

I used to describe it like this; he came to me one day with a plate he broke, and I said, it's okay, we can fix it. We glued it back together. There were still a couple of cracks where the glue held it, but it was together again, maybe even stronger than before. A few months later, he came back to me again and the same plate was broken. We repaired it for a second time, a little harder to achieve as we had those original cracks to repair again but we did it. And as time has passed, he's now come to me for the fifth time and this plate is basically just a pile of shards and dust and I honestly just don't even know where to begin.

I know where the door is, and maybe I really am just fucking stupid. Maybe I should have ended it three years ago, two years ago, yesterday. Tomorrow. Next week. But I don't. Why? Because, sadly, I am just as broken, just as emotionally unreliable. Just in a different way.
But hey. Maybe this time it'll be different. No?