Country/Girl: Anniversary

Country/Girl - loving life at the Chinchilla Melon Festival

Well, well, well what do we have here? ANOTHER anniversary to blog about? Well what do you know?

One year ago (tomorrow… details, details), I moved to Dalby, Queensland, Australia. In the scheme of things, it wasn’t so large a move. My friend Amy, for example, moved to the UK last October. I mean, way to show me up, there, friend, sheesh. But still, it certainly was a pretty giant change of lifestyle. I left a city of more than 2 million people, full of my friends, family, job and familiar *everything* to come to a town I knew almost nothing about, and which has less people in it than the suburb of New Farm, where I used to live.

Before I left people either wanted to tell me I was crazy and that I shouldn’t do it, or that everything would be magical in the country because “gosh darn the people are so friendly”. So how do I feel, after a year of actually living here? You’re damn right I’m gonna write a list!

·      Well gosh darn, yes, the people are pretty friendly. But not because of an antiquated, simple attitude, or because of some idealised city-person imagining where all the farmers lean on posts and tell you to have a nice day, missy. People are friendly here because they identify as belonging to Dalby. They are filled with pride, a sense of belonging and camaraderie that you simply won’t find in a city. They want to better their town, they want people to like it, they want you to feel welcome so that you become a part of it too. 

Also. It pays to be nice when there’s not that many people around. You don’t want to piss off too many people in a place where everyone knows everyone.

·      And yeah, that’s not a myth. A lot of people know a lot of people here. People define themselves by their connections with others. Everywhere, I mean, all people do that. But the boundary of where those people are is smaller, and the likelihood of an overlap is significantly increased when you live in a small town.

·      Perspective changes. Dalby is not actually that small. When I lived in Brisbane I could not conceive of somewhere tinier than Dalby. The first time I went to Newcastle, the 7^th largest city in Australia, I thought it was amusingly small. And now, well, I recently drove through somewhere called Macalister. That’s what happened, I drove through it, in about 45 seconds. Whoosh.

·      Similarly, Dalby is not even a little bit remote, like I used to think it was. In reality, three hours from Brisbane and one from Toowoomba is not remote at all. And we live in town, too. Drive 10, 15 minutes out of town and you start to see real country. There’s a 24-hour Maccas here, this is a metropolis. 

·      I thought I knew how to drive. But now I *know*, you know? Driving in the city poses its own kinds of challenges, but you have to be ruthless here. If I hadn’t learned to be ruthless, I’d still be waiting to cross the highway at the intersection. Right of way has a different meaning when you’re dealing with roadtrains. 

·      Some of the things I thought would be hard, like getting a job, were easy. 

·      Most of the things that have been actually hard have been things I never even thought about. Like what do you eat on a Sunday when all the shops are closed and you haven’t got anything in the house? And how do you deal with cravings for Japanese or Thai food when the nearest restaurant is more than an hour away? Actually most of the hardest things have been food related.

·      Worse than food cravings, have been people cravings. I’m not so sure that this has anything to do with living in Dalby, and a lot to do with not living in Brisbane, but I do get kind of lonely here. I miss a lot of specific people, but mostly I miss being amongst people who’ve known me a long time. I miss being comfortable with friends. The strangest thing about this is that a lot of my friends have left Brisbane in the last year, anyway, and I really feel like moving back would not solve this problem. When we see one another, it’s brilliant, but we have all moved on, in some ways, and most importantly, we must continue to move forward.

·      Shaking up my life has been the best thing I’ve ever done. I was stagnating in Brisbane, on a career path I wasn’t happy with, doing the same thing all the time without any goals. I have experienced more new things in the last year than I have in my entire adult life. I’ve learnt so much about myself, and what I’m really like, when given the space and time to sort that out. Moving to Dalby was a change that turned me upside-down and shook me. I’ve been going through the stuff that fell out of my metaphorical pockets and working out what I want to keep ever since. 

·      I’ve learnt so much about Boyfriend, my partner in crime this year too. I’ve seen how strong he is under pressure, how clever and brave he is. I think we’ve seen each other at our best and worst this year, and it’s set our future together in stone, and onto a really exciting path. 

·      Moving somewhere, anywhere, I think, gives you a real sense of empowerment. But moving somewhere so different and scary, somewhere with a different culture, in many regards, and a different way of life, has made Boyfriend and I both feel like we could do anything, we could move anywhere, and be ok. 

Epipha-map

Self Portrait - Lizzy King, 2013

Sometimes we change our minds slowly; we learn gently, and subconsciously, we may never even realise that our opinions have grown. Other times, realisation comes like a clap of thunder. We might be reading something, or sleeping, or talking with someone, and then suddenly, BAM – the light bulb cliché, the explosion of knowledge. I like to think that those moments are a good way to map our development as humans. So here’s my epipha-map.

Epiphany Number 1: not all families are the same.

In grade 1 or 2 I went to my first sleep over at a friend’s house. I remember my mum telling me I had to wear knickers to bed. I never wore knickers with my pyjamas (secretly, I probably didn’t start doing so till I was a teenager) and I remember being quite weirded out by this change in my sleeping attire. But that wasn’t the epiphany. Sitting at the dinner table with this nuclear family of four, it occurred to my small brain that it was actually probably a bit weird that I called my dad Tony and that he did most of the cooking. And I remember not liking my friend’s dad because he had a moustache and liked his lawn more than he seemed to like his family. My mum did all the garden work, and I actually sort of had it in my head that mums were outside people in my world and dads were really good at making cheesy cauliflower. And in that moment I realised that not everyone was like us (awesome).

Epiphany Number 2: Fractions and decimals are the same thing.

I was quite a clever kid. I was good at most subjects at school without even really trying. I was a very good reader, I liked writing and science things the best, but I also was pretty good at maths too. Until I was about 10. And then suddenly, maths got hard. I struggled intensely with anything that combined letters and numbers: 3 + x = 7?! How can an x be in there?! Xs are for words, not maths. The whole thing baffled and upset me. In particular, I could not cope with fractions. I got my head around decimals ok, but spent hours freaking out about fractions. And then my mum spent a day baking with me. We measured things out with measuring cups, and she patiently explained how 1/4 + 1/4 could equal 1/2. And I got it. I was happy. The next day at school we were working on some maths problems and I had a little “oh!” moment as I realised that 0.25 + 0.25 = 0.5 as well. They were the same thing. All this time, they were the same bloody thing. I felt like a genius idiot.

Epiphany Number 3: Belief isn’t fact.

On school camp, some of the girls were reading out horoscopes from a magazine and asked me what mine was. I went on a small rant about the ridiculousness of the belief that somehow rocks in space could tell us anything about our little mundane lives. Basically, I killed the fun. My atheist friend looked up from the magazine and said, “you know Lizzy, the way you feel about horoscopes, that’s the way I feel about Christianity”. I was pretty pissed and stomped off, I guess not because she’d said it, but because she’d called me out. I was religious at the time, but that moment was one of the first times I deigned to consider other people’s beliefs as in any way legitimate. Not that I suddenly thought horoscopes made any sense (they make none, to be clear), but in that one sentence, my friend had made me realise that all belief is kind of ridiculous, and it doesn’t hurt to be a little bit respectful. (If you’re reading this, Hilde, I give you permission to gloat).

Epiphany Number 4: I’m not a Catholic.

On the subject of religion, I started doubting and questioning my faith around the age of 16. At the end of the school year I went overseas with my choir, and we sang in amazing places across Europe. We sang a church service in a Catholic cathedral and it was one of the most beautiful places I’d ever seen. We were told that only those who were Catholic were allowed to leave the singing to take Communion. So I dramatically stepped out from my 75 fellow singers, along with 3 or so other students and walked the length of the cathedral to get my bread and wine in the fanciest setting possible. And swallowing it was like swallowing chalk and acid. As I walked back to place I realised I’d done it to be different, to be interesting, for fun and I vowed never to take Communion again unless I was sure it was what I wanted. I’ve not touched it to this day.

Epiphany Number 5: Pride and Prejudice.

The themes are in the fucking title. Right there, on the goddamn cover.

Epiphany Number 6: It’s not them it’s me.

In 2009 I got quite sad. And anxious. And stressed. I was depressed at the end of high school too, but this was a whole new ball game. I sort of felt like I wasn’t allowed to call myself depressed because I knew people who’d battled depression for years, and mine came on quite suddenly. In the space of a few weeks I went from being pretty happy and ok to locking myself in my room, not eating, hurting myself, being in a constant state of panic. I probably would not have sort help had it not been for the paranoia. I had an overwhelming sensation that people, all people, everywhere, were looking at me. I knew, logically, that they couldn’t be, but empirically, evidence that I was seeing with my own eyes was that they were. So I went to a psychologist. It was three or so weeks before I got the courage to tell her people were looking at me and she said, “have you considered, Lizzy, it’s that you are looking at them?” No I had not considered this, I admitted. She told me to practise not making eye contact for a whole day, and see if this fixed the problem. I walked out of her office and up the street and instantly realised I was making eye contact with people. So I stopped. It was excessively difficult, I had been the one freaking other people out all along. I genuinely skipped home with happiness. While the battle for my happiness took a lot more than a quick fix realisation, this epiphany helped me so much, that I honestly don’t know how I would have survived without it.

Epiphany Number 7: I can’t run out of inspiration.

Almost every time I sit down to write a blog, I don’t know what I’m going to write about. And it’s becoming a problematic fear. I won’t go near my computer for hours, I’ll dawdle and procrastinate and ask people what I should say and read a book and hope it’ll go away. And then every time, without fail, I’ll open a word document with a blank mind and suddenly find something to write about. Like just now, when I had an epiphany about epiphanies, and started telling you about it. There’s always going to be stuff in my brain and as long as people keep reading (and even if they don’t), I’m going to keep writing it down.

Ever had an epiphany? Tell me about it via comment, facebook, twitter, carrier pigeon.

Lizzy King, Human - A Study. Box 4, Part 1.

2004 – the fourth box, better known as the ‘Why the Fuck did I Keep this Shit Box?”

(If you're wondering what the flip is going on, start here).

For the most part, this box is kind of boring. NO WAIT, DON’T LEAVE. I will try to pick out some of the more interesting bits for you. I think by this stage of the hoarding adventure I was thinking more along the lines of “accurately representing my life” like some kind of time capsule, rather than “keeping things that are of genuine or significant value” like some kind of interesting blog fuel.

There are bus tickets and receipts, RECEIPTS for fuck’s sake. There’re programs for music concerts I wasn’t even involved in, and a giant plastic bag for no reason. So this is just a smattering, a hand picked few, a small selection of vaguely interesting things from my life circa 2004.

Item – Notes taken in Study of Religion – 2004

So we are fast approaching what I have suddenly decided to call the “Atheist Event Horizon”. At this point I was still a Christian, but damn was that faith wavering. I had a lot of questions, and Christianity was quickly failing to answer them. I was studying other religions and belief systems and some of them were answering them, and some of them weren’t, but they sure as hell were convincing me that just one religion couldn’t be the be all and end all. I was also, *obsessed* with death. I don’t even know why. I know that somewhere, possibly in this box, or possibly not, there is a list of things I wanted said at my funeral. I was afraid of missing out on life, afraid that cool things would happen without me, afraid that heaven would be a sap-fest; full of happy stupid people.

These notes are quotes from my textbook. I think they sum up how I was feeling at the time quite nicely:

Item – Headbands – 2004

I wasn’t even that into sport, but for some reason I kept two headbands bearing the name of my sports house, “Cawley”. Our house was named after Evonne Goolagong Cawley, the famous tennis player. Of course, Cawley is her husband’s name, but it would be a cold day in hell before my fancy private school will name the house, “Goolagong”.

woo sport

Photo – Semi-formal group shot – 2004

I won’t include any of the other peeps in this photo, because I can’t be bothered to ask them all permission (or actually track them down in some cases) but damn, look at those shoes. The flower in my hair is also in this box.

Claw hand?

Item – Signed Poster – 2004

VaPar was a pretty awesome thing I was involved in. I got a main role in the play much to everybody’s surprise including my own. We did our own telling of the King Arthur story in a physical theatre piece. It was actually not anywhere as awful as that sounds. I played the lady of the lake and had bells in my costume, it was fucking awesome. This is the poster for the thing, everyone signed it.

The whole poster didn't fit in my scanner but you get the gist.

Item – School Diary – 2004

Grade 11 was probably the first time I was properly comfortable in my friendship groups. That’s not to suggest I had bad friends before that, but things did shift a bit in grade 11 and a number of the people I became friends with that year are still my friends to this day. Most notably my friend Mim. I don’t know why I mention that, it’s not relevant to the diary, I just thought you all might like to know. Hi Mim.

No but what I’m getting at is that this diary (which is just like a daily planner by the way, not a “ow my feelings” thing) kind of reflects my own development into the person I am today. I mean, I still had a long way to go. But here we find evidence of my love of planning and studying (yeah, nerd 4 lyf). Things are colour coded and here and there you’ll find ideas for essay paragraphs or notes to self about assessment. (Oh there’s a cute one here about Darcy’s pride and Lizzy’s Prejudice). My friends birthdays are all written in by them, happily and amusingly. No one is crossed out, there’s no snipy little comments from yours truly, and there are fun things cut out of magazines.

There’s no real evidence of the 5-week derailment of my life that was Glandular Fever at the end. Not unless you’re looking closely. There is less daily homework written in (because I wasn’t going to school) but all the assessment and exam stuff is still there because I was frighteningly (and fairly stupidly) determined to get it all done in spite of the fact that my spleen was four times its usual size. I spent most of my time in bed, waking up every four hours for medicine and bizarre juices my mother had made. I had tonsillitis, laryngitis and the aforementioned giant spleen. I still managed to do those exams, though, and I remember being almost hysterical by the last one. Which was biology. I drew a smiley face for the final answer and left with my shoes around my neck. Good times.

Item – Creaming Soda wrapper – 2004

Here’s a perfect example of the random shit I kept in this box. Why, why, why, would I keep something like this? I have a vague recollection that we thought it was funny how giant the creaming soda is compared to the dude holding it, but even still. Just what. Juuust what. 

I mean I guess it is kinda funny...

Lizzy King, Human - A Study. Box 2.

In 2002, I started yet another box for keeping things in. I was 14, I liked a boy named Chris, possibly a girl named Sally and dated a boy named Morgan. I was secretly embracing my nerdiness – I was in the choir and obsessed with Lord of the Rings, but was also pretty keen to be cool and fashionable. This is a study of my life in the year 2002.

Item – Red Pencil Case with writing – 2002

My grade 9 pencil case has writing on it from my friends at the time. In particular prominence is a quote from the Emperor’s New Groove – the best film of all time. This and some other things were written by my friend Chris. I believe I “archived” the case in the box after I fell in like with him, acted like a crazy person and then stopped being friends with him.

It says, "For the last time, we did not order a giant trampoline"

Items – World Vision Cards – 2002

A picture of two children cleaning grasshoppers to eat. And another of a little girl with the caption “They Laugh at Her”.

Item – Broken photo frame shaped like a cow – 2002

Hot damn I loved cows.

Items – Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers Collector Cards – 2002

Nerdtastic! I’ve got two of the “Orcs” card if anyone wants to trade? I’m missing Merry and Gandalf.

A diversion!

Item – Dead Stick – 2002

This is awesome. I had forgotten about this. At high school, this amazing teacher had this amazing idea for fundraising. Instead of spending money on sausages or chocolates to sell for charity, he and his class held “Dead Stick Day”. They painted up a bunch of sticks, somehow implied they were cool and got us all to fork out cash for sticks which was then given to charity. There were a good few weeks where everyone was adorned in twigs.

Hey look! Lord of the Rings poster in the background. Times, they have not changed.

Item – Poster for Choir performance – 2002

Chorale. A massive part of my formative years. 2002 was the first year I was in the Chorale and I nearly quit. It was a very good thing I didn’t. According to the poster we sung works by Handel, Faure and Gershwin, to name a few.

Item – 40 Hour Famine Certificate of Appreciation – 2002

Thanking me for raising the hefty sum of $55.65 in the 2001 40 hour famine.

Items – Payslips – 2002

My first job was a paper route. I earnt $20 a week.

Item – Scribbled Note – 2002

Holy shit. I remember this. I used to have these religious moments, where I would shut my eyes and write down stuff that god was telling me to write. This is almost impossible to read because I have written over stuff way too many times but there’s a lot of stuff about a shepherd trying to save a little lamb caught in the branches, but the little lamb doesn’t want to come. That shit is POETIC.

Letter – from Becki – 2002

Becki is at Ironbark, a thing I will write a lot about soon I should think. It’s a camp that everyone at school has to go on, a 5 week adventure on a farm that is, for the most part, the best thing ever. Most of us went in grade 10, so I suspect there’s a lot of stuff in the next box, but Bec went in grade 9. Her letter tells of looking for a mother dog who was giving birth to puppies in the bush, morning runs, and the training hike coming up.

Item – Student Card – 2002

Baby!!

Item – Diary – 2001-2

This diary is really interesting. Well actually, it’s quite boring – we did this, then we did that etc. But there’s a few things it has made me think about:

1.     I’d forgotten how much I freaking loved kids. I mean I am still quite fond of the little humans, but at this stage of my life I had a 5-year-old and a 2-year-old brother and my whole life was dominated (particularly on the holidays) by kids and kids events, parties, kindy stuff etc. And I freaking LOVED it.

2.     The diary really hardly ever discusses my feelings. It is an account of things that happened, with occasional “this was annoying” or “mum was mad at me” moments, but no real secrets or emotions. For example, “went to Anthea’s house 4 a BBQ. Stayed the night & Sally did 2” – this says absolutely NOTHING about the fact that Sally (who was Anthea’s friend from high school) was this beautifully stunning girl, who I was infatuated with. Like… I actually spent years wondering if I was gay because of the 2 or 3 times I hung out with Sally.

3.     I was so easily swayed by others. The first bit of the diary is from holidays, I am spending time predominantly with my family and the writing is civil, well-spelled and generally benign. As it goes on, and I’ve been in grade 9 for a while, I write like an idiot – all 2s and 4s instead of actual words. I actually say “NEthing” instead of “anything” and I’m obsessed with getting a boyfriend.

Item – Movie ticket stub – 2002

Good News! I got a boyfriend. The back of the stub says “ First date with Morgan! (21/10/02)” This is the only evidence of him in this box, but I have faith he will feature predominantly in the next one. We saw The Bourne Identity and I distinctly remember that actually we saw almost nothing of The Bourne Identity and a whole lot of each other’s faces. Kissy kissy.

And that’s it. That’s the whole of the 2002 box. Next week, 2003! Grade 10! Ironbark, my first proper relationship, and my first proper break up. Who knows what wonders we have in store for us as we continue “Lizzy King, Human – A Study.