Resolve

It’s 11.00am on New Year’s Eve in London, and already I can see from Facebook status updates that celebrations are well and truly underway in my old neck of the woods.

Meanwhile, I still haven’t decided what I’ll be doing tonight. I’ve never been good with the pressure of New Year’s Eve – the expectation to celebrate in some spectacular manner generally results in me holding out too long before committing to a plan (to the universal frustration of my friends who are good enough to still invite me to things).

I also don’t do New Year’s resolutions. Officially, it’s because I think resolutions tend to mask symptoms of a bigger problem. Truthfully, it’s because I have terrible willpower and break resolutions at the first juncture, when I’m supposed to be saying no to that drink. Ironically, the only New Year's resolution I've ever been able to keep is giving up New Year's resolutions.

So instead, I name the year. The idea is that I give the year a theme and all decisions I make ideally should somehow relate to that theme. It’s all about self-betterment (that totally shouldn’t be a word).

I started naming the year after my first trip to Europe actually, back in 2003. That solo trip left me in such awe of a world so different to home that I was inspired to find out more. Much more.

So 2004 became the Year of Learning. I took up Spanish (I didn’t want to touch Italian after the bastardi scammed me dry). I was back at university. I even started learning the Djembe (an African drum, which, upon deeper consideration, I perhaps should have realised would have little practical merit in my day-to-day life. Still, I felt edgy). In short I took as much of the world in as I could from my isolated corner.

It was such a revelation that I continued naming years. 2005 was the Year of Change (in which I changed jobs and living situation…and I gave up the Djembe), followed by the Year of Financial Responsibility – which in truth only lasted as long as my first credit card bill and then became the Year of Spontaneity.

By this time last year, I had worked out I was onto a pretty good thing. So I decided to tempt fate and name 2009 the Year of My Life. I wasn’t disappointed.

I mean, it wasn’t necessarily the best time of my life, but it was certainly a watershed year. I’ve moved hemispheres, survived the global financial crisis, travelled the world participating in best friends’ weddings, learnt hard lessons about the fragility of life, said some tough goodbyes and, importantly, met some amazing people along the way.

Frankly, the Year of My Life was a little exhausting.

But it has set me up for a cracker 2010. I’m totally sold that it will be a great year. I’m in London! I’m earning pounds! I’m turning 30! (I’m totally at peace with it). And as I’ve said earlier, it’s a year of possibilities. Provided I’m open to them.

So I’ve decided to name 2010 the Year of Taking Chances. Basically getting out there and gorging myself on whatever the world dishes up.

In the scariest thing I’ve done since agreeing to sing ‘Dancing in the Streets’ at a college black tie function (I failed miserably), I’ve started this blog (and yes, I know it’s technically still ’09. Stop being astute). My contract is up for renewal in late March – maybe I’ll say 'no thanks' and try my hand at the next thing on offer. Maybe I’ll write something for publication.

I don’t know exactly what I’ll do yet. But I guess that’s the point of taking chances.

And the brilliant thing is, it means I don’t have to give anything up.

So cheers everybody! Here’s to a great New Year.

Where I am

I’m not really one for plans. If you’d asked me a year ago where I’d be today, I’d likely have told you “exactly where I always am”.

I’ve surprised a few people by getting over to London, and staying – not least of all myself. London had always been on my radar, but after years of saying it’s something I have to do, I figured it was destined to become something I wish I had done.

There really was little rational thinking in my decision to finally make the journey. Upon learning that a friend would be late for drinks, I turned to the net to investigate potential frequent flyer flights lest I’d have to face an extra half hour of work. Sure enough, one solitary flight was available (to London via New York, due to a wedding in Mexico). In a rather capricious move, I booked it. And that was that. I was moving to London. No visa. No money. No plan.

I’m still not sure how I pulled it off. I’ve recently learned the concept of synchronicity, which I think is a nice way to explain those three months of adrenalin-charged To Do lists. Basically synchronicity implies that when you choose a course for yourself, the universe will give you a high-five and a packed lunch to keep you going along the way. It sometimes even gives you a piggy-back when things gets tough. I’d like to think that my getting here is proof that the universe really is rooting for me.

I still haven’t figured out why exactly I’m here. It’s a melting pot of reasons I suppose. Of course it’s to see more of Europe (I’m Australian after all). And yes, it’s to get some international experience. I’d also take a bet that it’s a bit of escapism too. But each day I’m tuning into a feeling that perhaps the reason I’m here is to get myself totally and utterly lost.

I’m at that quarter-life crisis age (I’m being a little generous), where I’m not too keen on where I’m heading and I haven’t really loved where I've been. And with the big 3-0 coming up (I’m totally at peace with it) it’s time to do something about it.

So I’m here. To get lost. I know that sounds a few pence short of a pound, but not knowing where to go somehow seems to be a good way of finally getting some clear direction.

I don’t know where I’ll be in six months, let alone another year. Suddenly, 2010 holds a surplus of possibilities, and the only thing I know is that I don't intend to be where I always am.

So I’ll keep you posted on how I’m going. (I’ll also post a few observations on my time in the European Union. They really can be very amusing here). And maybe you can remind me every now and again that I need to keep pushing myself. It's all very well to talk about how wonderful possibilities are from the safety of my laptop, but the truth is, it's also downright scary.

So far I'm doing ok. I’ve booked in some travel. I’m writing a script. I’m finally seriously considering the merits of loving what I do, versus simply being 'well-paid'.

Oh yeah, and I’ve started a blog.