Hey Babe, So Brave Of You To Show Your Face Here

On the weekend I went to a party.

Some Zara-wearing, matching faced, blonde, pre-suburbian depressees were there. Comparing Bali pics and Mimco bags. Cute.

One had just broken up with someone I’d dated. She walked over. And said.

“It’s so brave of you to show your face here. I’m sure it’s not true. All the stuff he says.” 

Ha. Good girl. Good Bait. Well played.

Me. Interested. But also much more so in getting another mojito.

“Nah. It probably is.” 

Getting older comes with a lot of crappy things. Medical cover. Mammograms. Matching linen with your teal trimmings. It also comes with some good stuff too. Clarity. The ability to stand up for yourself. And a genuine Zero Tolerance policy for bitchy dramatics.

Without these things (and home Nescafe machines) adulthood would be a complete and total ball of poo.

In the last week or so, a few different situations have attempted to drag me back down the rabbit hole of ‘He Said, She Said,What Now!’ In these awkward circumstances I found myself a bit flabbergasted (great word) and taken aback.

As such, I replied with a bunch of nothings. I used to be really good at this stuff. But apparently just like my guitar… once you put it down … you have to think for a while before playing your old songs.

So I am here to tell a story. To the lot of you. At once. Think of it as eulogy. To the world in which all this complete and utter bees-wax occurs.

Here goes.

Being a teenager is tough. Being in your early twenties is much of the same. Being confused about young love is hard. And losing a sibling SUCKS.

Losing yourself as well, is all part of the process. Being in search of something is another. Death comes with all sorts of pins and needles. Mistakes are bound to happen.

Finding yourself again is an endless joy. Finding your real family of friends is another. Memories of being stupid, become just that. Stupid memories. A laugh over a glass of wine. Not a reason to cry and whine.

So. If the worst thing I ever did in my life was get sad and date some douchebags, then stick a fork in me kids… I’m done! I’ll take that.


That’s the best thing about being an adult actually. Knowing what you’ll take and what you’ll throw right back.

What I won’t take anymore, is the slap on my character. My life is all out here on show. Always has been. Always will.

What I will take is my time. Deciding who is worth it.

What I won’t take is the falsities.

What I will take is an apology.

What I won’t take is too much of my day listening to it.


When I was younger my mum used to make us give our ‘thankfuls’ over dinner. When I grew up a bit, went to boarding school and was super homesick she asked me to write them down.

I had a thankful diary. But I rarely filled it out. I was full of teen sour-grapes and couldn’t see the sweat that was going into my education.

Now that I am an adult and making money off my many (many many) words, it’s easier to show gratitude.

I am thankful that many people will read this blog and laugh and think less of me.  I am thankful I don’t care.

I am thankful that I now know the difference. Between being from the same place and heading in the same direction.


Everyone has his or her battles. One of mine is this:

Recognising the good people. Not just the good IN people.


I’m not completely there yet. But every loser I meet, is getting me closer to the finish line.

And for that.

I am eternally thankful.




  1. Katie

    Very jealous that you write so beautifully! Love your line ‘recognising the good people rather than the good ‘in’ people’, as i think when you come from a family made up of individuals who have made LOTS of mistakes (except aunty Lisa of course) perhaps it’s easy to become too understanding. Xx big hugs

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s