Frankston

Monday's exercise: completed!

Today was just fantastic. I traveled 50 minutes via train and bus to get to my new uni campus. I had my uniform fitting which lasted all of 15 minutes. I just can't wait to get my hands on my stylish navy blue jumpsuit with alluring reflector panels and my bloodstone work boots! Rafael Nadal will fall at my feet when he sees me dressed like that. The best part was waiting 25 minutes for a bus then sitting on the train for another 50minute trip home. 

Today the universe, in the form of public transport in Frankston, was screaming at me, "GET YOUR DAMN LICENCE!"

Universe, I am compelled to agree.

There is very little about Frankston Railway Station that is pleasant. Highlights from today included seeing an anorexic looking teenage girl board a train her a pit bull, the irony was both delightful, puzzling and horrifying. The police were about and a young man was trying to get out of his fare evasion fine by telling the officers about the brawl he was in last night. Interesting tactic. The very drug affected looking mother, who looked no older than 21, carrying her tiny little baby was the part where I stopped judging and started being thankful. 

A large part of me wanted to kidnap the baby and take it home. It reminded me that I did nothing to deserve being born to parents who planned for me, loved me and had the means and support to nurture me than that little baby did to be born to a very young, very addicted mum. That child will face challenges that I can't properly comprehend. She or he will have to work really hard to have a chance at receiving half the opportunities I have had available to me. The chances of 'falling in with the wrong crowd' for that child will be so much higher than it was for me. Plus, what the 'wrong crowd' would be getting up to in Frankston would be so much more serious than the 'wrong crowd' naughty private school kids I came across. The difference would be between visits to the local Magistrates' Court rather than the Principal's office. 

Each time I've been to Frankston the reality of how sheltered my life has been hits me, as well as how lucky I am to be able to board the train, fall asleep, wake up 45 minutes later and stroll off into the leafy suburbs again. My family have had their ups and downs financially, which has meant that my siblings and I have been made aware of the work that goes into providing things like a nice house, music lessons or a sound education. We are not what most people I know would consider 'rich' but going to Frankston reminds me just how relative that kind of terminology is. 

I think we can sometimes get caught only looking up at the next bracket above where we are. Whether that is in our career, social standing, educationally, musically or athletically. Most of us have a fair idea how far away we are from moving up a 'level' in life and Frankston reminds me that sometimes we ought to look at the gap between the level we are currently at and the one below it and be grateful.

Pump it, peanut butter cup!

I had a bit of a lazy week this week after my holiday. This week has to be productive, so I'll share my plan with you in order to increase the accountability factor.

To do list:

- book uni medical and fitness assessment

- make doctor's appointment to gather my vaccination records

- locate 'baby book' vaccination information

- force my resume upon every business owner in the local area

- return outstanding forms to St John Ambulance

Exercise schedule:

Monday: 6.30pm Pump, 30 min cardio

Tuesday: 9am Abs, 9.30am Attack, full stretch

Wednesday: 9.30am Pump, 10.30am Step

Thursday: 9.30am RPM, full stretch, 6.30pm Boxing 

*subject to timetable change for public holiday*

Friday: 10.30am Attack, full stretch

Saturday: 8.30am Pump

The exercise schedule might seem a bit nuts but I had a pretty lazy week in the gym this week. I have always enjoyed exercising and a standard week for me involves 4-6 gym sessions, though this week I only managed 3. I love feeling fit, strong and flexible. I like working really hard and pushing through pain for the endorphin rush after I'm finished. Sport is great, I love learning and improving new skills and, of course, winning. The happy exercise hormones help keep me mentally healthy and without regular, strenuous exercise, my mood plummets. These days, like a lot of people, I basically use exercise as a substitute for therapy. 

Also, I need to pass a physical fitness test in order to be able to go on placement for uni so I'm trying to get as fit, strong and flexible as I can be. The test is an Ambulance Victoria requirement. I will have to do push-ups, sit-ups, ride an exercise bike, the 'sit and reach' flexibility test and have skin fold measurements taken. You receive a score out of 5 for each activity, it doesn't matter if you fail an individual component as long as you get at least 13pts over all and score at least 3/5 in either the push-up or sit-up tests. 

The idea of someone coming at me with body-fat calipers makes my skin crawl. I thought once I finished compulsory high school P.E. that I wouldn't have to face this kind of physical assessment ever again. Wrong. I really loved P.E. overall, but like many, I hated anything that involved someone who didn't really need to know weighing me. 

It's such a bizarre thing, that number on the scales. One day I hope to be the kind of person who truly doesn't feel that that number is of any particular significance. I don't want to be the kind of person who invests a large amount of self-worth in that number and is only too happy to tell the whole world how small that number is or who is completely destroyed by how great its magnitude may be. I would love to meet a person, in particular a woman, who honestly does not place any microscopic particle of self-worth on what they weigh. It's a pretty sad world where our social commodity as human beings, particularly for women, is valued against our size. That being said, I don't think social acceptance of greater bodily diversity should used as an excuse for people not to take care of their health. 

I will report each day today whether I kept to my schedule!

On an unrelated note, all day I have been thinking about these... 

Two of my most favourite things, peanut butter and chocolate. Thankfully for my health, they are not too readily available in Australia!

Have a lovely week, wonderful readers =)

Cougar territory

The prodigal cat is settling in nicely, she's beautiful and so affectionate. My brother didn't make many runs today, but there will be other days. He's gone to Adelaide to watch the test match. 

Days like today remind me that I'm going to have to make my life far more interesting if I'm going to keep up this blogging everyday business. My job hunting will step up into serious mode tomorrow. I have my uniform fitting on Monday and that gear will set me back about $550. Then there are books and equipment which will easily total over a grand. Oh uni, oh reality. My period of retirement is over and as Dr Phil says, "When you're unemployed, your full time job is finding a job." 

I also have to work out whether I want to go on first year camp... On one hand, it could be really fun and there might be a hot, male, 18 year old physio student in  need of 'advice' regarding adapting to university life (everyone needs one of those, right?)

On the other hand, it will predominantly be 18 and 19 year olds... That beautiful age where all of a sudden the little munchkins have way more legal privileges than common sense. I really enjoy that I no longer have to hold my friends' hair out of the way of a toilet bowl every time they lay eyes on something mildly alcoholic. Also, there will be ones who are young for their year, like I was back in the day, who won't be 18 yet... (Note to self: if you decide in favour of attending first year camp, be sure to ask for proof of age from anyone you look like "befriending" before you "befriend" them). 

Oh the joys of being a non-year 12 entry first year! I'm not even that old. I'm 2.5 months too young to be officially 'mature age' and I'll be the same vintage as the kids who started school when they were 6 and took a gap year. So it's not so much my biological age, but the fact that I'm mentally 65. I should just turn up at uni wearing slacks, pearls and a cardigan. 

Surprise!

The strangest thing happened today.

This morning Mum got a phone call from a veterinary clinic in Cranbourne saying that someone had found our cat (for non-Melbournians, Cranbourne is an outer suburb about 50 mins drive away from where I live). We had a look around the house and our cats were accounted for. We were puzzled. Then it dawned on us...

When my family moved over to Melbourne from Adelaide one of our cats never settled in our new house. The one of the other cats we brought over with us was her best friend and was sadly run over leaving her heart broken. It was after her cat friend's death that she ran away. The last we saw of her she was scrawny, thin and very aggressive. She wouldn't let us pat her and she'd growl at anyone who came close. That was five years ago and we had long assumed that she had probably been killed. 

When Mum called Dad to let him know what was happening, he thought she was joking.

She would have only been about a year old when she ran away and now she's all grown up! She is very affectionate, very healthy and has been eating well. I wonder where she's been. I think she probably was unofficially adopted by someone or a series of people because she's clearly been looked after.

We are keeping her in a laundry for a few days to give her a chance to adapt to her new environment by herself. Ironically, the currently laundry hadn't been built when she last lived with us! The other cats know something is going on and keep sniffing around the laundry. They are completely confused and it's pretty amusing. The next test will be integrating her with the other household pets!

It just goes to show that the pet micro-chip registration system does work. It's all pretty surreal!

In other news, my brother will be opening the batting for his local club first XI for the first time tomorrow. It's quite an achievement to be selected in this capacity, especially as he is 16 years old. I hope he'll have a great knock. He's a very mature and technical left-handed batsman and handy spinner. You've all got to know a bit about my sister; my brother is equally as special (and insightful), I'm very proud of him and love him a lot. 

Lastly, thank you! Yes, you. I've had some wonderful feedback about my blogging and I'm so grateful that someone is taking the time to read my writing (Shout out to Tam and Sarah who were lovely enough to compliment me today!). Please feel free to leave a comment with your feedback, I'd love to know what you do and don't enjoy about my writing. I love discussing ideas, so please challenge me if you disagree with something I write! Also, if there is something you'd like me to write about, let me know.

May your weekends be full of lovely, unexpected surprises!

So you've got an arts degree, now what?

Today I am writing about everyday empowerment.

As most of you know, I've had a significant change of heart about my course of study for next year. The process of deciding my course of study for this year involved facing a dilemma that presents itself to many arts students and graduates; whether to study law.

Like so many arts students, my ambition and intention was to eventually study law.

Initially I saw my arts degree as something I would put up with for a year until I could transfer into the Arts/Law double. What I did not anticipate, however, is how much I would love arts. By the time it came to the end of first year, I hated the idea of giving up a chunk of my degree in order to do law at the same time. I loved everything I was doing and didn't want to give any of it up. I told myself, "This is fine, you're young and not in a rush to finish studying. Finish the degree then apply for graduate entry law."

My 3rd year of arts was, in many ways, like a second round of year 12. I had decisions to make about my future and I wanted to get the best grades I could in order to maximize my opportunities. The decision making process was very different the second time around. I was no longer dealing with the prospect of studying law as means to fulfilling long term goal and becoming a part of my family's law tradition.

Gradually over my arts degree, I realised that I had become snookered by my own and others expectations. It is no secret that I have a fair amount lawyers in my family. My interests and abilities seemed lend themselves to being a lawyer. I loved debating and have always been the somewhat irritating person in the class who always ends up in a heated argument. I have been interested in politics and social justice issues for as long as I could remember as I would watch the ABC news with my parents before I had started school. The school I went to in Adelaide produces an extraordinary amount of lawyers. Whilst I was at school, I never seriously considered another potential career and no one suggested that I should consider anything else. My grandmother, Patsy, had even said to me that I "need that law degree". The logic all seemed to point in one direction.

Working at a law firm part time since I finished school had given me a front row view of the reality of being a lawyer. I saw batches of wide-eyed, bushy-tailed graduates learn the ropes, some of them to start their careers as lawyers, others did not make the cut. I got to know lawyers that I came to admire tremendously and others whose behavior did not indicate them worthy of much respect. I saw it as an environment that I could survive and potentially thrive in. What I also saw were a lot of things about the politics and the lifestyle of being a lawyer that I thought might have a negative impact on my well-being and my character.

This week I got accepted into 3 law courses across 2 states. I'm proud of this because I worked hard to make it possible.

I'm not tempted by any of these offers but what has surprised me is how empowering getting them has been. I feel freed by the fact that I know that I can. I'm not speculating that I "could have if I wanted to" to make myself feel better or to justify my decision to outsiders. I know for sure that I can and I have the proof. It has given me the facts to put some doubts to rest; I am smart enough and I can work hard enough. I no longer feel like I have anything to prove to myself in that regard.

I caught up with my beautiful friend Anastasia today. She is an incredibly bright girl who excelled at school and got into Arts/ Law at Monash easily. As an 18 year old, she was as certain as anyone could be that that was what she wanted to do. Ana has recently made a big decision about her future too, to discontinue the law component of her studies. At uni she has fallen in love with theatre and I've seen her flourish as a person due to her involvement with it. She is exceptionally capable but it has become apparent that law is not her deepest passion and has taken the courageous step to follow her heart.

When I saw her today, she too seemed empowered. She seemed free of the worry and stress of trying to do what she felt obligated to do, but did not have a passion for.

Please don't misunderstand, I'm not anti-law. It just isn't a path I want to want down at this point in my life.

There is something wonderful about feeling empowered in your own life. Everyone seems to be qualified to give their opinion these days and sometimes the people closest to us can be the least helpful. I'm very introverted in my thinking, I set my standards looking inward with little regard for comparing myself to others. That being said, I have found myself very overwhelmed at times trying to work out what the best choice is for me, trying to sift through invited and uninvited opinions to find my own belief. I hate to think how hard it must be for extroverts!

I think the reality is that if we are not empowered in our own lives, there is usually someone around who is willing to take our power from us. We each see this in abusive romantic relationships, tyrannical bosses or even just with overly agreeable "doormat" friends who always compromise and never stand up for themselves. The right choice is often the hardest one. It is the one that makes us feel most vulnerable and provides us with the least superficial support. I think the right choice is often the hardest because we need to show the discipline, strength and courage to choose it, in order to be worthy of its rewards or to prepare us to fight on. Have the strength to live the life you choose, not the one that happens to you.

"The most common way people give up their power is by thinking they don't have any"

 - Alice Walker

Swaky

I had a really nice day today. My family, minus Katie, have taken up golf and I had a golf lesson this morning with my Mum down at our new club, which was really fun. The coach, Ben, brought the fitting bag so we got to play around with all these different composite clubs as well as hitting with our own. The fitting bag is the golf club chemistry set. It is full of different handles and club heads which are all detachable, so you can mix and match to find the perfect club. 


Then I had a lunch in the city with a lovely friend. I was able to talk to this friend about a problem I've been grappling with and she seemed to have all the answers I needed and was very generous in offering me her support. I went to the gym in the afternoon and went to the most enjoyable BodyAttack class I think I've ever been to. The instructor was a young, very cute English guy whose energy was infectious (thought I suspect women may be of no significant interest to him). 


There wasn't anything particularly special about my day but I think those days are the best kind. The days where nothing remarkable happens, you just enjoy your life. 


Today I will be writing about legacy. 


I was prompted to think about legacy from reading the blog of a very dear friend, Kate. I came to know Kate when I was 12 or 13, in high school and still living in Adelaide through, of all things, dating her younger son. I was going through a very rough patch in adolescence at the time I came to know Kate. In particular, the relationship between my Mum and I had turned septic. I was either giving Mum the silent treatment or we were ripping each other's throats out in verbal stoushes that would put federal parliamentarians to shame. For a period of time I effectively adopted Kate as a surrogate mum. Ironically, when my family moved to Melbourne her family bought our house.


Kate is an incredible woman. She is intelligent, witty and charming, with a natural warmth that draws people of all ages to her. She is empathetic, generous and very funny. She has the kind of insight into humanity one can only gain from experiencing acute hardship and seeing the seedier side of life close up. She is one of the most passionate and courageous people I have met. You would struggle to find a person with a better track record for overcoming adversity than Kate. She possesses more resilience, courage and strength than anyone I know. I admire her immensely and love her dearly.


Kate has been unwell the whole time I have known her. She has confronted so many life-threatening conditions in the time I have known her that I'm not going to attempt to remember them all. The condition pertinent to my discussion of her is that Kate has early onset dementia. Her blog gives tremendous insight into her experiences as a person who is slowly and uncontrollably losing the cerebral functions most of us take for granted. 


Kate is not a passive sufferer of her disease. She is fighting it, through advocacy. 


I think she is creating a legacy. By recording her experiences, Kate is articulating her own unique life as a person with dementia and voicing some of the fear, anger, hurt, frustration and love that affect all sufferers would feel. Through her advocacy work and her writing, she is drawing attention to the inefficiencies in global health care for caring for dementia sufferers and the elderly with the dignity and quality of life everyone deserves. 


I hate to contemplate a world without Kate in it. Unfortunately, I have grappled with the idea for some time. Mortality is a challenging concept. It reminds me that whilst human beings are capable of so much we are each still just a cog in the wheel of life or death. I think a legacy has to do with how many people still feel the affects of your cog once it has stopped turning. 


Kate reminds me that each of us has the chance to build a true legacy with our lives. We can each be the kind of person who works to change the world they live in so that the next generation will reap the rewards without ever having met you. We are each capable of building something remarkable that will exist beyond ourselves. 


My life is profoundly impacted by her involvement in it and I am so grateful to be able to call her my friend. 



"I want to leave my footprints on the sands of time.
Know there was something that meant something
That I left behind...
Leave something to remember
So they won't forget
I was here"
                                                                      (Beyonce)

Why I don't miss being the boss's daughter

I'm still on the search for a job. Job hunting is just no fun and as a casual/ part time applicant, it seems to all come down to being available to start on a particular day. Inevitably, that day is always when you have the dentist appointment you can't move, the holiday you've had booked for months or some other engagement you can't rearrange in an otherwise free week or month. It's frustrating. 


My last job, overall, was the creme de la creme of student jobs. The pay was well above award, whilst it had it's moments the work was generally interesting and I got to work with some lovely, interesting and capable people. Working in an office whilst being a student gave me a fascinating insight into the "real" working world. The egos, politics and hierarchy of a business are a special kind of beast. 


One of the most rewarding and challenging parts of the job was the fact the my Dad is one of the "bosses". I gained an insight to a side of my Dad that I hadn't seen before, the business man, in his natural habitat. I had a fair idea what Dad did when he went to work everyday, but it is a whole different thing to witness and participate in it. 


It was initially a funny experience getting to establish my own working relationship with the characters Dad spoke about over dinner each night. It was almost like I'd jumped into a story book that I'd read hundreds of times. 


Being the "boss's daughter" certainly had it's advantages. Dad being known by most as a nice and intelligent person certainly worked in my favour. I also knew exactly where he kept his minties and Tim Tam stashes and I probably got a few more "chauffeur driven" rides to work than most.  


After a while I couldn't help but feel like I had some kind of social Glad wrap stuck to me. You couldn't see it, but there seemed to be a thin, transparent and non-permeable barrier between myself and some people. There was one young bloke who, regardless of how I behaved, spoke to me like I was an entitled, spoiled brat. Rather than conversing with me, he threw statements at me that assumed that I had been born with a silver spoon in my mouth. It annoyed me not only because of how false his assumptions were, but that he never really wanted to engage with me properly to figure that out for himself. It was easier for him to pigeonhole me. 


The thing that annoyed me most was that lots of people assumed that if I made mistakes, there would be no repercussion. That couldn't have been further from the truth. I like to be good at the things I do and my job was no different. In that sense, I was personally motivated to do the best I could. I was also aware that my work reflected on my Dad, as well as myself. I never wanted to be in a position where I made a mistake which reflected negatively on him. Plus, for most people, if they make a mistake at work they don't have to explain or justify it to their partner, housemates or family. I did. 


Being the boss's daughter gave some people an excuse not to recognise how hard I worked and that if I did have some kind of get out of jail free card, I never needed to use it. 


The conflict of personal interests inevitably arise out of working in an environment where your parent is in a position of power. It makes it very difficult for people to feel they can trust you. This was something I actually had a lot of sympathy for but sometimes it was difficult socially. I heard so many things I wasn't meant to from many people from all levels of the hierarchy. I had to be very careful to remember what things I could discuss with whom. 


I did not have these problems with everyone, most of the people were lovely. My immediate supervisor was fantastic and I really felt my efforts were appreciated by her. I made some wonderful friends who took a chance and invested a lot of trust by involving me in their personal lives. 


I learned that I didn't want any of the privileges that some perceived I had. I don't need them. I want to be successful in whatever I do based on merit, not on nepotism. I like the real world, where people are not afraid to tell me what they really think and don't look terrified if they swear in front of me I might go tell my Daddy. 


I'm really proud to be my Dad's daughter, but outside the family I'm Eliza Brebner Griffin, not someone's little girl.