Five years ago I was a seventeen-year-old mess. I was more confident than I should have been, thought I was funnier than I actually was, and committed to procrastination like it was a serious relationship.
At twenty-two not much has changed.
This month marks the five-year anniversary of my humble, sometimes ridiculous, all times open-hearted, honest little blog. Memoirs Of A Rat has grown up with me through the most incredible years of my life. It saw my senior year of high school, my year abroad in Italy, my first years in college, my first serious relationship, and now it continues to accompany me through yet another study abroad and more adventures through the world.
Five years ago I wrote a draft for one of my earliest blog posts. It was entitled my ‘5 Year List’. For reasons I cannot remember I never posted this list. I thought now would be the perfect time to share and respond to it:
1. Graduate from high school
I am happy to say I accomplished this first goal relatively easily.
2. Study abroad in Italy for a year
This, too, is one of my proudest accomplishments. I lived, I learned, and I grew in Italy. And I will be forever grateful.
3. Get my book published
While I don’t think I realised how ambitious this goal was, I admire my seventeen-year old devotion.
4. Get a job? (the question mark means it's something I know I should do, but probably won’t)
Again, at seventeen I thought I was witty. Happily, I have worked in two incredible internships in the last few years, volunteered in a Psychology lab on my university campus, and assisted other’s in their research tasks. I have gained invaluable experience and unbelievable clarity of my own through these jobs I once thought I may not want to do.
5. Get my first car (a Ford Ranger XLT please)
6. Learn how to take care of my car, I’m talking grease monkey strip down
7. Go shooting again
8. Learn how to take a gun apart and put it back together
I’m not sure why I thought cars and guns were so important to me back then, but I am willing to admit it was probably more for the image I wanted to portray than my actual interests. I can drive (a manual truck nonetheless),but I cannot maintain my car on my own. I have shot a gun, but only in a controlled situation, and I have not had any burning desire to pick one up since.
9. Learn some sort of wicked self defence, like walking-down-a-dark-alley-some-guy-jumps-me-from-behind-and-ends-up-regretting-it-big-time self defence
While I may not have learned ‘wicked self defence’, I can take care of myself. I’ve lived on my own for the last three or four years. I cook my own meals, I clean my own apartment, I manage my own expenses. I don’t need to know jujitsu to know what it takes to survive in this world, and basic but important skills like these are necessary. More importantly, I can defend myself from the world. I have strong opinions to the point of being stubborn, and I believe a woman can and should pay just as much importance to her mind as her physical strength. I am small, but I am powerful in my own way, I am in control of my self and my life. But I am not naïve.
10. Suddenly come across lots of money (I am not picky as to how this happens, just how much money I happen upon)
I am almost disappointed that this seemed so important to me at that time. I am incredibly fortunate and always have been in my family’s support of me. I will, one day, earn a living and be financially secure and comfortable. That’s all I need.
11. Go to Australia
Happily, I have just concluded one semester living and studying in Sydney Australia. I am encouraged by my own ability to work towards my goals, however trivial some of them may have been, and make my own dreams come true. I’ve never sit back and wait for things to come to me, I work hard and I achieve my goals. I am proud of that.
12. Pay my parents back for lots of things and buy my sister a very nice dress
One day, I will do both of these and more. Though no material goods could ever repay my family for their unwavering support and encouragement of me.
13. Go to college
I’m surprised at myself that a college education fell so low on my list – below cars and guns as a seventeen-year-old girl! However, I am three years into my four-year undergraduate program, with aspirations to continue my higher education. I could not be happier with my love for the studies I have chosen.
The last five years have been, undoubtedly, the most important years of my life. But I am no longer that miserable seventeen-year-old girl.
I turned eighteen and graduated from high school. I turned nineteen and lived in Italy. I turned twenty and found love. I turned twenty-one and lost love, but managed to find myself along the way. I turned twenty-two in Thailand.
No, I am far from who I was five years ago. And this blog has grown and matured with me from a pitiful attempt at comedy and a cry for attention, to a sharing of my life and my travels. This space is no longer the world as I want it to be, this is the world as I see it, as I choose to make it every day. This is no longer Memoirs of a silly young rat, this is a tour of my world, my lessons in life and learning: TaraTour.
Tuesday, June 30, 2015
Monday, June 22, 2015
Thoughts from Places: A Roadtrip
We flew from Sydney to Cairns, hired a campervan car, and set out to drive 1,058 miles south in 10 days time. We were hopeful, lively, and excited.
On our first night on the road we were burgled. A desperate thief broke into our car while we were sleeping in it and robbed us of a passport, a laptop, a wallet, and our piece of mind.
On the second night on the road we drove all night, exhausted and disheveled, only to find out that our destination, our rest stop, was aflame in a large bushfire.
On the third night on the road we ran out of gas, broke down on the side of the road, and slept in our car until the city around us awoke with the morning light.
We had many sleepless nights, many hours of driving, many long nights at the wheel.
It rained almost the entire time we were sailing around the coastal islands.
We made plans and changed plans and spent more money than we had.
Yet, amongst all that, I had a great time.
I held a cuddly Koala bear. I managed to go scuba diving on the Great Barrier Reef, a life time goal of mine. We made friends, and grew closer as a unit. We sailed around the Whitsunday islands and saw beautiful beaches and tropical islands. We explored Fraser Island, my personal favourite part of the entire trip, with beach roads and sub tropical rainforest growing out of 98% sand and 2% rock. We had a scenic flight over the island and saw lakes that looked like butterflies and trees that looked like broccoli. We explored a new city and I saw an old friend. And then we lay on the beach for two days and learned to surf – another life goal.
In ten days of disaster, we managed to see so much and do so much that it left my head spinning. It was an experience!
And that’s the thing, that’s what it’s all about. That’s what life is: an experience. They are not all good. Sometimes bad luck strikes when you least expect it and can barely handle it. But you band together and you keep moving, because forward is the only direction you can go. The bad experiences are bad, sometimes terrible. But they can never outweigh the good. For every sleepless night we had an incredible day. For every item lost we gained an adventure. For every day on the road we had a new experience.
Experiences are what bring people together. When you share a drink or a meal you gain a temporary connection. When you share an experience you gain a life-long memory, and, with it, a life-long friend.
These days it is easy to judge others by their age or their intelligence; easy to say someone is older therefore they must be wiser. But the true measure of life is one’s experience. He, or she, who is more experienced, will always have a firmer grasp on reality, a deeper understanding of the world, a richer life.
After ten days of terrific terror I can say I am a little wiser, a little more cautious, a little more adventurous, and a lot more experienced.
On our first night on the road we were burgled. A desperate thief broke into our car while we were sleeping in it and robbed us of a passport, a laptop, a wallet, and our piece of mind.
On the second night on the road we drove all night, exhausted and disheveled, only to find out that our destination, our rest stop, was aflame in a large bushfire.
On the third night on the road we ran out of gas, broke down on the side of the road, and slept in our car until the city around us awoke with the morning light.
We had many sleepless nights, many hours of driving, many long nights at the wheel.
It rained almost the entire time we were sailing around the coastal islands.
We made plans and changed plans and spent more money than we had.
Yet, amongst all that, I had a great time.
I held a cuddly Koala bear. I managed to go scuba diving on the Great Barrier Reef, a life time goal of mine. We made friends, and grew closer as a unit. We sailed around the Whitsunday islands and saw beautiful beaches and tropical islands. We explored Fraser Island, my personal favourite part of the entire trip, with beach roads and sub tropical rainforest growing out of 98% sand and 2% rock. We had a scenic flight over the island and saw lakes that looked like butterflies and trees that looked like broccoli. We explored a new city and I saw an old friend. And then we lay on the beach for two days and learned to surf – another life goal.
In ten days of disaster, we managed to see so much and do so much that it left my head spinning. It was an experience!
And that’s the thing, that’s what it’s all about. That’s what life is: an experience. They are not all good. Sometimes bad luck strikes when you least expect it and can barely handle it. But you band together and you keep moving, because forward is the only direction you can go. The bad experiences are bad, sometimes terrible. But they can never outweigh the good. For every sleepless night we had an incredible day. For every item lost we gained an adventure. For every day on the road we had a new experience.
Experiences are what bring people together. When you share a drink or a meal you gain a temporary connection. When you share an experience you gain a life-long memory, and, with it, a life-long friend.
These days it is easy to judge others by their age or their intelligence; easy to say someone is older therefore they must be wiser. But the true measure of life is one’s experience. He, or she, who is more experienced, will always have a firmer grasp on reality, a deeper understanding of the world, a richer life.
After ten days of terrific terror I can say I am a little wiser, a little more cautious, a little more adventurous, and a lot more experienced.
Monday, June 1, 2015
Smart
Almost five years ago now I started writing this blog under the pretense of procrastination. Though so much time has passed and so much about me has changed as I have grown from an awkward teenager to a young woman my biological makeup stays the same: just as my bones have grown but not transformed, my teenage self has matured but not been replaced. That is to say, I still find myself procrastinating.
As I sit and try to write five analytical papers over the next four days for take home exams that commence my second to last year of my undergraduate degree, I find myself daydreaming of a world without the pressure and prestige of higher education. Perhaps a better world.
In my three years at university I have spent countless hours breaking my back sitting hunched over my laptop writing nonsensical words just to meet a word limit and studying to regurgitate impossible amounts of information in order to pass standardised examinations. I have poured my heart and soul into papers and assignments that I have become too invested in and seen little reward for my efforts. I have stressed to the point of anxiety and lost sleep to the point of physical illness. I have consumed my body weight ten times over in caffeinated beverages.
However, I have also gained an innumerable amount of knowledge and an unequalled passion for the study and understanding of human psychology. I love what I do (or plan to do, rather). I have enjoyed almost every class I have had the privilege to have taken, and made lasting connections with more than a few outstandingly intelligent professors along the way - not just in different areas of study but at different universities in different countries. I have met a mentor. I have decided upon and directed my life towards future studies and, hopefully, an established career. I have grown into my own dreams as I once grew into clothing carelessly purchased a few sizes too big. I have accomplished things I never could have dreamed of five years ago in my awkward adolescent angst.
Yet, I cannot help but wonder if it is all that it seems.
I know for a fact that the majority of my knowledge has been gained far outside of the four walls of a classroom. I can say from experience that written assessments and standardised examinations only serve to bolster intelligence that is strictly contained within an educational institution. I must admit that what I learn and do within my studies only goes as far as I aim to apply it in the working world.
I have gained more, experienced more, and learned more in all of the lessons I have had outside of my university in the last three years. I have grown in the experience of studying in Italy and Australia, and matured in the cultural assimilation to the United States. I have learned more in my travels through Cyprus, Lebanon, Canada, Sierra Leone, Australia, and Thailand in the last three years than I could ever hope to learn in a university structure in four or five years.
I believe that there is a fundamental difference between gaining intelligence and being smart. My university career has granted me intelligence that I am infinitely grateful for. But my life and travels have made me smart.
Being smart is about being able to balance education with life’s experiences, as much about failures as it successes, as much borne from sadness as exuberance. Being smart is not a letter mark on a report card; it is a way of life.
And as I go into this, my final week of my third year of my university education, I remind myself that I am more than the sum of my parts – I am worth more than my grades and cannot be measured by a GPA. I may not have a 4.0, but I take comfort in the belief that I am smart nonetheless.
As I sit and try to write five analytical papers over the next four days for take home exams that commence my second to last year of my undergraduate degree, I find myself daydreaming of a world without the pressure and prestige of higher education. Perhaps a better world.
In my three years at university I have spent countless hours breaking my back sitting hunched over my laptop writing nonsensical words just to meet a word limit and studying to regurgitate impossible amounts of information in order to pass standardised examinations. I have poured my heart and soul into papers and assignments that I have become too invested in and seen little reward for my efforts. I have stressed to the point of anxiety and lost sleep to the point of physical illness. I have consumed my body weight ten times over in caffeinated beverages.
However, I have also gained an innumerable amount of knowledge and an unequalled passion for the study and understanding of human psychology. I love what I do (or plan to do, rather). I have enjoyed almost every class I have had the privilege to have taken, and made lasting connections with more than a few outstandingly intelligent professors along the way - not just in different areas of study but at different universities in different countries. I have met a mentor. I have decided upon and directed my life towards future studies and, hopefully, an established career. I have grown into my own dreams as I once grew into clothing carelessly purchased a few sizes too big. I have accomplished things I never could have dreamed of five years ago in my awkward adolescent angst.
Yet, I cannot help but wonder if it is all that it seems.
I know for a fact that the majority of my knowledge has been gained far outside of the four walls of a classroom. I can say from experience that written assessments and standardised examinations only serve to bolster intelligence that is strictly contained within an educational institution. I must admit that what I learn and do within my studies only goes as far as I aim to apply it in the working world.
I have gained more, experienced more, and learned more in all of the lessons I have had outside of my university in the last three years. I have grown in the experience of studying in Italy and Australia, and matured in the cultural assimilation to the United States. I have learned more in my travels through Cyprus, Lebanon, Canada, Sierra Leone, Australia, and Thailand in the last three years than I could ever hope to learn in a university structure in four or five years.
I believe that there is a fundamental difference between gaining intelligence and being smart. My university career has granted me intelligence that I am infinitely grateful for. But my life and travels have made me smart.
Being smart is about being able to balance education with life’s experiences, as much about failures as it successes, as much borne from sadness as exuberance. Being smart is not a letter mark on a report card; it is a way of life.
And as I go into this, my final week of my third year of my university education, I remind myself that I am more than the sum of my parts – I am worth more than my grades and cannot be measured by a GPA. I may not have a 4.0, but I take comfort in the belief that I am smart nonetheless.
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