Improv, Comedy, Women, Melbourne and everything in between.
Disclaimer: I am not secretly a 70 year old hermit. I am a young, 20 year old female who goes out, drinks, smokes, dances, etc. I just have a few qualms about the expectations of ‘kids these days’.
Although everyone uses the phrase “YOLO” ironically, most people actually mean it when they’re trying to persuade you to go out clubbing before a 12 hour shift at work.
“C’mon, these are the years where we’re supposed to get fucked up, fuck consequences!”
I guess this one isn’t really a myth – it’s more like a sad truth. I’ve been wondering why my generation doesn’t really go on dates (unless you’re in a relationship). Nobody really goes on “get to know you” dates anymore. I’ve come to realise our generation takes part in a different kind of courtship than that displayed in Sex and the City. When you meet someone, the order of social etiquette is most likely going to be: Meet, Talk, Kiss, Exchange numbers, Sex, end. Or, if you don’t have sex on the first go, it’s more like: Meet, Talk, Kiss, Exchange numbers, Text, Add on Facebook, Facebook message, follow on Twitter, follow on Instagram, like photos on Instagram, receive more messages from seedy guy at 2am, realise you don’t like him after stalking their Facebook albums from 2008, end. The third alternative is similar to the second, apart from the ending: get drunk and realise maybe he’s okay, reply to his incorrectly spelt messages. Awkward sex. End.
And that, my friends, is how Ted really Met Your Mother.
I enjoy going out clubbing occasionally. In fact, when I turned the legal age and had just finished school I went out quite a lot, nearly every Thursday night. Three years later, it makes me a bit nervous to think about going out that much. When you do the math (which is not exactly my strong suit in the academic fashion, but I do speak drunk math) – a GOOD night is usually spent on $20 entry, $40 on drinks, $40 for the cab home, a ruined dress, a ruined dignity and bruises all over your legs. If you’re lucky. I wondered if I was just being a cynical bitch for thinking all these things, so my friends and I went out on the town last Thursday to have the “best. night. ever.” I had a good night – because I was messed up drunk. My head was spinning during pre-drinks after consuming a bottle of vodka between two people, as well as two shots of tequila – we had not left my friend’s apartment yet. That should have been a bad enough sign that I could slow down on drinks for the rest of the night – but I didn’t. Next morning I awoke in my friends tiny apartment, my head about to explode, and my whole body ached. I then proceeded to attend a pre-planned brunch at my favourite cafe, even though I knew I needed to throw up. I ended up vomiting in the bathroom of my favourite cafe, ever. Call me crazy, but does this have to be such a ‘normal’ thing for us to do? Is it wrong that I don’t enjoy it? Does that mean I’m not living my adolescent life correctly?
It just doesn’t appeal to me anymore.
Here’s a picture of me when I’m being a drunk adolescent:
From a young age, I’ve been pretty career-bound. I realised early on that the most important factor of success in the creative/entertainment industry is this: Wisdom and experience in life and work, but also be young, fresh, and optimistic..So that’s why I’m sitting here, writing on a Friday night rather than going out. Lena Dunham established the same sentiments in her interview with Howard Stern. I get that some people just havent “found their passion yet”, and I resent the idea that people have to have some kind of professional/creative “calling”, causing them to go on a journey to “find themselves”. Some people are more passionate about starting a family, doing social/community work, social-networking, weed… the list goes on. “Yourself” is not defined by your dream. However, I know a lot of people who say they want to be writers, artists, actors, musicians – but they inhabit the pre-conceived lifestyle of the career before working their way into the career. I want to ask them: do you really want to do what you love for a living? Or do you just want to be rich and famous? When I ‘grow up’, I want to do what I love – I want the kind of artistic freedom that allows you to be a writer, actor, director, producer – and that all comes with hard work and experience.
I went to an elite private school. My parents are wealthy, but I have never seen them as happy as the moment they realised they were finished putting three of their children through secondary education that cost $30,000 a year. For this, I am eternally grateful for everything they have done for me. I treat them with respect and love because they have put a roof over my head – and spoilt me with computers, iPods, trampolines, love, good food, a car to learn how to drive in, etc. They have given me an amazingly blessed life. I also treat them with respect because, hey, I want my kids to treat me the same way.
To quote Tina Fey’s chapter ‘A Mother’s Prayer to Its Daughter’ from her autobiography Bossypants;
“And when she one day turns on me and calls me a Bitch in front of Hollister, Give me the strength, Lord, to yank her directly into a cab in front of her friends, For I will not have that Shit. I will not have it.”
Post-high school, mid-tertiary: a crazy time where school-leavers move out of home and either starve themselves and live on a diet of vodka, cigarettes, and weed, OR drink a lot of sugary drinks, do Macca’s runs every week, complain about being too hungover to exercise. I know these are our supposed “years of being able to put our bodies through hell”, and just because we can – allegedly – handle hangovers better than older people – still doesn’t justify irrationally treating your body like shit, either way – fat or thin. Don’t get me wrong, I love the occasional Macca’s run, and I use my bad hangovers as a license to eat – but not every week. At this age, we feel pressure to be good looking since females are “at the prime of their physical/aesthetics, so a lot of girls work hard to drop those 10kgs… often without exercising – so they’ll turn to their drug-dealer boyfriend who lives in Toorak and he’ll set her up for a year of fun, turmoil, and bad skin. Maybe some discounted botox, if she’s lucky.
I’m young, and I’m happy. I’m priveleged to be living in the beautiful city of Melbourne. I love going out and finding great bars, meeting new people, seeing live shows – all without needing a hydrating IV drip the next day.
Call me crazy, I do what I want. Just not the kind of stuff you’re thinking.