In my head….

I’ve been here before…

It was a year ago. The airport in KL. Waiting… waiting…. waiting….

So much has changed. The conversation I had with my mum when I left was a different one to less than a year ago when we sat in the same bar at Perth International, waiting for my flight to be called. Back then she wasn’t so sure I’d survive. Now she’s confident I would, but is happy in the knowledge that I’m coming back to Perth in only two weeks.

This time I’m not running away from anything or trying to patch up my life. I’m not overwhelmed by my social life, or insecure about what I’m leaving behind. I’m coming back to Perth for all the right reasons. This time I’ll arrive at Heathrow ready to take charge of my life.

So what did I do at KL this time round?

I’m tired from an exhausting few days at work, so I’mmostly people watching. I’m listening to Interpol on my ipod, rocking out from my vantage point on the ground. An awkward metal bar is digging into my back, but it’s midnight and all the benches are taken with prone flight-weary bodies. There’s a cute French boy sitting a few metres away from me, looking far scruffier than I am – although my shoes and sock are more wildly mismatched than his (purple and green is not a good combination Fee!) My fringe is irritating me a little, because all the air conditioning is making it floppy and it keeps getting in my eyes…. The usual Airport innocuousness….

It’ll be fun returning to this blog for the very reasons I started it in the beginning… to share my London journeys…

“I’m just so happy – I don’t remember feeling this happy before”

I’ve said that phrase to three different people today, and I’m beginning to think there’s a kernel of truth in there somewhere.

When did that happen? When did my smile become so permanent a fixture that people become concerned if there’s not a smile on my face? What changed so dramatically in my life?

I realised today that there’s not one single thing about my life that I’d change. It’s perfect the way it is. I’m loved by some of the most wonderful people in the world, I have a job I adore and am passionate about, and I have so many exciting plans for the next few years…

Tomorrow is my birthday. I’ve been joking about how upset I was about “getting older”, but the truth is, I’m excited about this year. It’s full of promise and potential. It’s full of books to be read and friends to catch up with and adventures and travelling to do and if I had to write a soundtrack for this year it would be full of giggly “yacht rock” (thanks for the new genre Mike…) and 80s upbeat happy music.

Urrgghh. I think I’m even beginning to nauseate myself with my own happiness….

Thanks to Dave for the photo that pretty much sums up my New Years Eve.

I hate New Years Eve. It always ends up disasterously or anti-climactically. I’ve had some absolute shockers in the past – including walking in on a (now ex) boyfriend cheating on me with a close girlfriend, or working a 20 hour shift that felt like it would never finish and ended up with me arguing in the middle of the dancefloor with the artists, or the one where I was so bored I went home and watched TV instead… It rarely turns out to be any good.

So imagine my surprise when I not only had a fun night, but days later still feel good about the new year, instead of the usual melancholy.

I’m not good at resolutions, I always choose the cliched “eat well, stop drinking and smoking and go to the gym” type promises that I’ll never live up to. But this is the year of fun. It’s my last year before I turn thirty, and in the spirit of making the most of the last of my twenties, these are my resolutions;

To have at least one adventure a week.

To take a chance (even if it is just a little one).

And to not regret anything I do this year….

Hooray!

My year started off so well. Euphorically. Mesmerisingly fun. Overflowing with happiness.

Then I accidentally killed one of my mum’s goldfish, and the guilt is eating me up…

Let me explain. My mum has long been the obsessive type. When she had a rabbit she would often be late for work. Why? Because she couldn’t help herself – she would just watch him for hours as he ambled through the house. Later she got the two dogs, who are now firmly entrenched as the “favourite children” in our family. And last year she added to the family with some goldfish…

Everytime I visited her I would be regaled with the chronicles of the fish-lives. I would have to ohh and aah at every new toy or plant. And when the fish (who were fast becoming fat and spoilt) finally had babies, suddenly lots of mini-aquariums appeared around the house. From one small pond a year ago, she now has two large outdoor ponds and three aquariums. And she counts the fish daily. Religiously. Morning and night. She’s even given some of them personalities….

How do I tell this woman that I killed one of the original fish whilst housesitting for only one week? I don’t know how I did it, but I did. Boy, am I in trouble.

And I realised several things about myself along the way; I don’t like putting my hand in the pond. When I had to get the dead one out, it freaked me a little bit when all the other fish would swim around my hand (god – I’m such a baby…) The second was that wrapping a fish in newspaper is a disquieting experience and one that filled me with a silly sort of sadness…

Other than that, so far this year has been a lovely burbling experience of happiness and excitement. It’s going to be a good year. If I can manage to keep my homicidal tendencies in check…..