Mamma Mia

No matter how different we all may be, there is one thing that keeps every individual connected, that is death. Death may signify the end of the road for one, but for those left behind it can be the beginning of a whole new outlook and appreciation for living. At least, I can only hope we all come to see it this way.

I flew in late a couple Thursdays past, back to Melbourne to celebrate the life of an adventurer; a motorbike riding bad ass who was not bad ass at all, but the kindest of men with nothing but love for his family and friends. A true gentleman in every sense of the word. Friday morning I hauled ass out of bed early to flip through mum's photo albums, let me tell you, my mum has a giant tub on wheels exploding with albums, some so old they may crumble in your hands. They had a certain smell that I can't get enough of, like a library. I took a big whiff, a whiff of history and endless memories. Nothing quite tells a story and memory like a photograph, and one photograph can tell a hundred stories depending on personal recollection. Trust me there's been several lets say 'discussions' in my family as to when and where events have occurred. In particular when it comes to my nan and pop, they sure had some fierce discussions in their time, both too stubborn to admit defeat; and why would they, they were right.

Going through the old photos I found my favourite, one I remembered from so many years past I couldn't tell you when, but I knew it existed. That sure is one of the beautiful things about our brains, the ability to store memories, some so old we simply don't remember - but something is triggered. Scent, touch, deja vu, and a simple knowing, our senses are incredible. The photo wasn't quite how I remembered, I was younger than I thought, 10.5 months opposed to 3 years, and it wasn't just us. But that's all I saw, just me sitting on pop's knee, smiling, as he gave me my first sip of beer. Cheeky bugger. Sadly on closer inspection the beer was Fosters, which just may explain my fear and distaste for beer for all those years… I'd like to add I've wised up since and have quite the appreciation for a brew (or two) nowadays.

After gathering a collection of photos, young and old, we were summoned to Nan's for a quick cuddle. The word quick used loosely. A couple hours later, many coffees poured, food prepped my bro and I slipped back home. This 'quick' visit left little time to get ready for the funeral, thankfully Azz (brother) placed all the photos together on my makeshift photo board, boom, teamwork got us there. I tacked the photos down whilst shoving a few spring rolls in my face, a cheeky mimosa to wash it down and we were out the door. The service was lovely, as perfect as it can be. A little Sinatra, a lot of passionate emotions, endless love and support, and of course no shortage of Kleenex. Coffee, tea, cake, then came the wake. A true celebration of the life of a gentleman, a family man. Cold brews, champagne popping - Pop had always asked what's the celebration, today it was all about him.

Back at nan's I took a moment to slip away. I sat on the lone splintered bench on the front porch, lit a cigar and sipped on champagne. I had been blank all week, angry at myself for not finding the words to speak at the funeral, or just say anything at all. Every thought flooded me as I sat alone, inhale, sip, my brain ticked. I sat smiling, looking at the clouds fluffy cushions in the blue sky. I'm not religious in the slightest, I can appreciate why people may need to believe, it's just not for me. But in that moment I liked the idea of heaven; Pops sitting at a bar with his best friends - both of which are no longer with us - they'd be smoking real cigars, drinking from steins, planning the next big trip. Smiling down at us suckers, still slugging away and working for the man, yep, working hard for the good life.

I stubbed the cigar against the bench and headed inside for a top up, after all it was a brilliant day to get full on food, booze and a whole lot of love. We will never stop missing our pop, but he sure as hell wouldn't miss the left overs… Mamma Mia that's a lot of hooch, but it sure tastes alright.

&.the.bohemian.girl.xx.

Postscript: Cancer is a cunt, one that will touch every one of us in one way or another. It can come on unexpected, and be utterly ruthless. There may not be much we can do to fight it, but if you're in a position to you may wish to donate towards research, if not please just look after yourselves, get yourself examined every once in a while… And most importantly, keep on living the good fucking life.

Why our twenties matter

As much as we convince ourselves we're adults as soon as we hit 21, we are in fact just children experiencing our first pay checks. Don't get me wrong, we had our jobs and new found responsibilities, but ultimately the majority of us hadn't really learnt anything, not yet.

I personally took my job very seriously; I would turn up to work no matter what. When I was so hungover I thought I may die OR if I was only 80% sure I was even sober, I was there. I even remember turning up when my first boyfriend shat on my heart, whatever man I've got a job to do. Even if I did spend the majority of my shift 'cleaning' aka crying in the back room. I was a responsible adult with my work ethic in check, and I'd be damned if I didn't get me my Sunday pay… So we had our shitty jobs, and we may have been living in a shoebox, but it was OUR shoebox. We gladly paid our rent and bills, we bought our own clothes, sipped on cheap wine that often came from a box (which consequently came with a free pillow) we had our friends over for Italian/Mexican/Thai - all of which sound fancy but are also thrifty - and we had our spare wine cask pillows for when they crashed on the floor. Oh yeah, we were adults! Mature as fuck.

Whatever we wanted in life we could have, reach out and take it, make it yours. Fight for it, work for it, deserve it. Our money is our own, we'll spend it on whatever makes us happy. From shouting our friends and family, even if we can't afford to, it makes us feel badass so we drop those bills, it's just money who cares. I can look after myself and my homies, boom, make it rain. Sometimes we buy new shoes and don't have the money to take them to dinner - or a new phone whatever your thing is we've all been there - who cares, our feet and legs look outstanding, and I know I'll always crack a smile when looking down at them from my bowl of two minute noodles, totally worth it. No one can judge us for these indulgences, we're entitled to them, it's a right of passage when you start earning your own money. In fact we can never truly be judged for anything in life, as only we have the right to judge ourselves. That's right, no one else is entitled to judge you and if they think they are than they have bigger problems on their hands - namely they have self issues - so be someone you can be proud of, there is no arrogance in that only self love.

Our twenties sure as hell are not our golden years, they may be the most dramatic, or feel the most liberating, but in the end it's only the beginning. We haven't even started yet. But lets not ride off the entire decade, because our twenties matter. They are the years that mould us, carve and shape us through trial and error, give us a sense of true identity. We're finally getting somewhere, we're realising who we truly are and want to be. We're becoming the individuals we've been waiting to become, young adults ready to leap into the next phase of living. We still don't know everything, but fuck it, who ever really does. We're putting ourselves out there, we're learning and that's ok - we don't have to know it all, but we know something and that's pretty grand. Instead of getting absorbed and caught up in our faults and where we may have gone wrong, we finally just embrace, learn our lesson, and carry the fuck on.

Looking back over my twenties I've really come to appreciate these years; the ups the downs, the drama, the freedom, the complete and utter chaos. These really are the greatest of even the worst times. We throw ourselves out there, we've experimented, we've laughed, we've cried, we've tried. We have lived our lives outside of routine and restrictions. We've made mistakes, done things we thought at the time were regrettable, but in actual fact they aren't really regrets, nope, looking back they were the lessons, the acts that we didn't realise at the time but they were shaping us, teaching us. Life isn't always easy, and you know what, thank god for that. What a tedious life it would be to play it safe and not break some bloody boundaries.

Your twenties are to be tested and treasured, they are some of the most important years, although - at the same time - the most irrelevant. Through experiences and mere observation we really do get away with murder (figuratively speaking of course) and that's the beauty of it, no drama is that big in the end, just character building and a further education to life. We're figuring out what we want or perhaps learning that maybe we don't want what we thought we did. Whatever happens and whatever may lie ahead, we're a step closer to taking it on. Guns blazing we're roaring to go, knowing that in the end these are the year to dream big. As for our thirties? Well, they'll be fierce! And our forties? Just fabulous. And from then on who knows? But one thing for sure is that we'll sure have some ripper stories.

&.the.bohemian.girl.xx.

Postscript: The above song felt like a necessary accompaniment to this blog entry. Icona Pop - I love it, listen to it loud and dance like no ones business. You're only as old as you feel you are and I plan on being fierce and fabulous forever, you should all join me.