So I’m writing a blog, well co-writing a blog. I’m going to immediately caveat this by saying that I am approaching this the same way I approach life in general… without a clue. I’d imagine that some entries will be light-hearted and mildly entertaining with a touch of self-deprecation, others might be erring towards the serious side (without being too depressing I hope). I just don’t know. I want this to be representative of life – random, unpredictable, entertaining, educational and real. The name of this blog is ‘Unglued’. I feel like this is fitting as it accurately portrays how I feel about my life a lot of the time. Slightly out of control and coming apart at the seams. However, another reason I liked this name is that I feel like it has another more positive meaning in that I’m starting to become unstuck from the constraints of society’s perceived expectations. I guess in basic crude language, I’m giving far less of a fuck and living life knowing who I am and what I want and being true to that.
The last couple of years have been a huge period of transition for me, moving back to NZ after 10 years in the UK, starting a new job, making new friends, separating from my fiancé, throwing myself into the (frankly horrifying) world of dating again, falling in love only to watch on helplessly as he’s deported from the country and on many occasions getting far more inebriated than a 33 year old woman should EVER be. Should – this is fast becoming my most hated word by the way and I will try not to use it throughout the course of this blog. To me this means letting your life and actions be dictated by the (often misguided) opinions of others, WTF?! Anyway I digress. So in short it’s been a crazy ride and I’m slowly starting to realise that all of it had to happen so that I could be in the place and be the person I am today, which is fucking awesome. My best friend has also been through a hectic period of change so who better than to co-author this blog with! Two people without a clue, bumbling through life together, writing about REAL stuff that happens in REAL life without the rose-tinted glasses of social media, where everyone’s lives appear so perfect I want to vomit last night’s Dominos meat feast back up all over myself.
The other day I was feeling like a sad sack of shit and spent most of the day moping around and moaning about how crappy I felt (real constructive I know), and Pas sends me a text containing a hilarious silver lining, something along the lines of I dodged a bullet with some guy I dated a couple of times because there was a high possibility he’d turn out to be a raging homosexual in the future, which was sadly, horrifyingly accurate but made me laugh none-the-less. I voiced my appreciation for this and her response was (verbatim) ‘It’s my job to find silver linings in our lives so it doesn’t feel like we’re both going down the plug hole’. Now this made me laugh, one of those full fog-horn, snorting laughs where you eventually descend into silent shaking, which makes it look to outsiders that you may be experiencing some kind of seizure. I immediately hit up Microsoft Paint – my go-to creative outlet, which has taken up many work hours – and pulled together a visual representation of this (see below).
At least if we’re going down, we’re going down in style.
So there you have it. I don’t want this blog to be all about me (although I have to admit, writing about my life – albeit fairly ego-centric – is hugely cathartic), I also don’t want it to be irrelevant / unhelpful / dry as a nun’s gusset – you get the picture. So I’m relying on you to guide us amateurs as to what is actually good content.
I’ll leave you with a little story. I lost my virginity in Pascale’s Nanna’s bed (well this is the version she likes to tell, I’ll have you know it was actually the spare bed in which her Nanna was briefly sleeping in), to a short, distinctly average looking 16-year-old moron with braces. As if this wasn’t enough of a low point, he happened to mention to her in passing that he didn’t know I was a virgin at the time. Pascale then took great joy in repeatedly telling people that it was because I was as ‘loose as the Lincoln Tunnel’, which earned me (undeservedly so if I can clear that up) the temporary nickname of ‘Tunnel’. How we are still friends, I’ll never know.
Nic xx