Independence Day!

My oh my, how September - and these holidays, went by so fast.

I shall begin by firstly saying that I think I stole that title - in the context I am about to use - from someone else. I think it was Lisi Harrison, but I'm not sure. Just saying.

Anyhow, 'What context?' you ask. And I shalt answer you now. Ish.

Last .. hm.. Thursday, I went to Chaddy - 'the fashion capital' of our state, erm, a shopping centre - to catch up with my lovely Linchy. I have to say that it wasn't enough time at all, and there's so much I didn't get to say, but huh, such is life. That's a completely unrelated side-note, though, because my point right now is I took a bus home all by myself. 

Yes, Arvie, you're not the only one venturing out into the big bad world all by yourself :')

Let me start by saying I'm not a fan of public transport. Not that I'm snooty and think I'm above it - I truly enjoy getting on trains, for example, sitting against a window for the long journey to the city, enjoying that peaceful rocking motion... yeah. The only thing is, I don't like going by myself.

Okay, I'm not the baby of my house - third youngest, second oldest, whatever you prefer, (though with my cousin in the picture, I'm third oldest o.O), but I'm still a baby of my house. I've always had a chauffeur, and... well... I'm still a dependant, if that makes sense. No personal income, not legally an adult, still in school. That trip to see Linchy? My cousin gave me $50, my sister gave me her wallet. People don't spoil me, so to speak, (I had to give whatever I didn't spend back, okay?!), but I still have a handle-with-care label on me. Plus, erm, I don't want to admit this, but I can for anonymity's sake, I do cry easily. Not for fiction, may I impress on you, but it's fairly easy for people in real life to make me cry. So yeah. Handle with care.

And so - gah, see how I got on another completely unrelated side-note? I should change the name of my blog -_-' - I've never been alone on public transport. The first time I bought my own ticket (I was with someone, btw), I forgot to take the actual ticket. The whole front row of boys from my school were like: 'YOU FORGOT THE TICKET!', and my knees were too busy shaking to be humiliated.

But Thursday, the 27th of September, 2012, I, Laila N Mysis [unjumbled], took a bus home from Chadstone Shopping Centre all by myself. No assistance. It was a half-n-hour ride. I think I deserve a cookie. Well, to award myself for the journey I was embarking anyway, I bought a cookies-and-cream-chiller thing from Gloria Jeans, so I guess that's enough.

Furthermore, I also now have a mobile phone number. I was going to say mobile phone, but I've always had a phone... there are phones lying around our house all the time, especially 'cause my dad used to indulge in schmancy-fancy new phones, handing his old ones down to my mother, who would just... leave them around, because it takes time for her to get used to them, and I need them as alarm clocks. So I didn't need the phone, just the SIM. So I've got a SIM now. Cool, huh? Not that I'm particularly excited about that - I do not like having 24/7 contact with the outside world. To be honest, the way I feel about school friends, even my closest, is basically: I see you guys for 6.5 hours, 5 days a week for the majority of the year. Surely I can have some time without, at least afterschool and weekends?

(Yes, partially a hermit. Whatever.)

But with my new found ability to take a bus by myself, and my personal phone number, I'm on my way to being an independant woman. I even applied for a summer job, with Jess, at a stationery job... no response yet, but there's time.

Anyhow, nothing much has happened, even though these holidays were like WHIZZBANGPOP IT'S OVER! 

OH! I have news.

My legal teacher, Ms D, nominated me for the Youth of the Year award - an Australia wide thing o.o Don't get excited, it's a nomination and you have to get past many stages. I will not get past many stages, becase when I looked at the application sheet... well, let's just say it didn't change much from when I received it to when I handed it in. Many, many, many blank spaces. I just haven't contributed officially to the community, culturally or as a 'citizen' (seriously, I have no idea what that means), and I haven't been a 'leader' for the last two years. For the normal leadership category, I put down 'older sister, cousin, aunt'. Don't think that's what they were looking for. 

Another reason why I won't get through is because last year's nomination from our school - an awesome girl, whom I have very strong respect for - said that at a certain stage, it gets biased. She's a sweetheart, so I'm sure she wouldn't lie. 

Finally, I won't get through because it involves public speaking. I stink at it, as I have mentioned before, but I decided to go ahead with this because Ali told me that sometimes in order to master the fine arts of communication, you just have to dive into it. So I'm diving in, the deep end, and though I may not exceed expectations or anything, I'm hoping it will help me build up some skills for the Future.

Besides, to me, the greatest thing is that I was nominated. Somebody thought I was worthy. And that's a compliment by itself, right?

That being said, I want to backtrack to the blank spaces of my application sheet. To be honest, it gave me a heart attack - the fact that I didn't have anything to write down. All I could think of was - do I really do so little in this world?

Arvie had a post recently, that was inspired by Taylor Swift's bittersweet song 'Ronan', dedicated to a boy of that name who died of cancer at the age of four. Arvie - being the lovely soul that she is - was really touched. Not just like your average person who'd be like 'awww, that's so sad', but to the point of tears. She took the initiative to look at the boy's mother's blog, to really get a feel. And she said she felt confused, because this little boy had to leave this world so soon, while she had a whole sixteen years (and insha'allah, many more to come) to her name. 

I basically told her, in a very lengthy comment that could have been an essay, that it was a tragedy, and it wasn't something you should feel embarrassed to be so empathetic about, but the lesson you take from it is that he's a reminder from God that life can end at any given second, so if you're blessed with more time, don't feel cheated - get a purpose. Make the most of it, appreciate it, and do something about it.

A little while after, I was thinking of my own predicament, and I thought - well, maybe this isn't a mindblowing, tearjerking, in-your-face wake-up call like that of Ronan, but it had the same message that I needed. Do something. 

I spend a lot of time complaining, not just on here, but everywhere, complaining of big issues and all that jazz. Awareness is important, yes, but once you've reached that stage, you don't just sit there. You direct the actual play. You grab the baton and conduct the orchetra. You take action.

I'm not going to do it for a title. I don't need a medal. But I would like to have that contentment in myself that I do do something for the community, that I contribute to make the world a better place, even if it's on a miniscule, anonymous scale.

So yeah, part of my Independence Day is that I can take a bus by myself. Part of it is that I have my own personal phone number. But the bigger part is I've got a new resolution, and hopefully it's not just words, hopefully I can put some action into it.

(My cousin got married, btw. She's going to Dubai in a week. I've accepted her fate. Sigh.)

ATM:
Reading: The Shiny Guys. Doug MacLeod. So far... it's not as great as his other books, but it's not dreadful either.
Writing: NaNoWriMo. No, I'm not writing it YET, but I've actually got the vague foundations of a story in my head, so I'm going to keep working on it.
Listening to: My Heart Is... Tiffany Alvord. Nothing spectacular, or deep and meaningful. It's cute, though, and I like her voice.
Feeling: Inspired! The difference between motivation and inspiration is that motivation is by external powers, and inspiration comes from within. Did you know that? I didn't. 

Superdy long quote ahead...

"I have always, essentially, been waiting. Waiting to become something else, waiting to be that person I always thought I was on the verge of becoming, waiting for that life I thought I would have. In my head, I was always one step away. In high school, I was biding my time until I could become the college version of myself, the one my mind could see so clearly. In college, the post-college “adult” person was always looming in front of me, smarter, stronger, more organized. Then the married person, then the person I’d become when we have kids. For twenty years, literally, I have waited to become the thin version of myself, because that’s when life will really begin.
And through all that waiting, here I am. My life is passing, day by day, and I am waiting for it to start. I am waiting for that time, that person, that event when my life will finally begin.
I love movies about “The Big Moment” – the game or the performance or the wedding day or the record deal, the stories that split time with that key event, and everything is reframed, before it and after it, because it has changed everything. I have always wanted this movie-worthy event, something that will change everything and grab me out of this waiting game into the whirlwind in front of me. I cry and cry at these movies, because I am still waiting for my own big moment. I had visions of life as an adventure, a thing to be celebrated and experienced, but all I was doing was going to work and coming home, and that wasn’t what it looked like in the movies.
John Lennon once said, “Life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans.” For me, life is what was happening while I was busy waiting for my big moment. I was ready for it and believed that the rest of my life would fade into the background, and that my big moment would carry me through life like a lifeboat.
The Big Moment, unfortunately, is an urban myth. Some people have them, in a sense, when they win the Heisman or become the next American Idol. But even that football player or that singer is living a life made up of more than that one moment. Life is a collection of a million, billion moments, tiny little moments and choices, like a handful of luminous, glowing pearl. It takes so much time, and so much work, and those beads and moments are so small, and so much less fabulous and dramatic than the movies.
But this is what I’m finding, in glimpses and flashes: this is it. This is it, in the best possible way. That thing I’m waiting for, that adventure, that move-score-worthy experience unfolding gracefully. This is it. Normal, daily life ticking by on our streets and sidewalks, in our houses and apartments, in our beds and at our dinner tables, in our dreams and prayers and fights and secrets – this pedestrian life is the most precious thing any of use will ever experience. 
- Shauna Niequist

Peace in, 

Laila