This past weekend Tom (the boyfriend) and I sacrificed boozing and the Home and Away omnibus in favour of learning! I know, I'm suprised at myself too. We took part in a two day screenwriting course for a bit of fun and something different. It was really interesting and has definately woken up a part of my brain I haven't used since Uni which is cool, BUT I have to admit the decision to go was not made lightly. You see by taking part in the course I was becoming what used to be the bane of my University existence- a mature student (dun dun dun).
If you've done any tertiary study (and particularly if you studied arts) I'm sure you'll agree that mature students are the worst. I know how ageist that sounds but I'm not discriminating against all older people who choose to pick up an interest paper or two. No, mature students are a certain breed all of their own.
You can pick them pretty easy. They're the ones who sit up the front of every lecture and disrupt class frequently to ask inane questions in an attempt to sound intelligent. The ones who actually read all of the readings rather than skimming over them before a tutorial. The ones who shush you when you dare to so much as ask your neighbour for a pen. The ones who wear sneans.
So it was with some hesitation that I embarked on the course...and I was right to be worried. The first person to arrive was wearing an ankle length knitted cardigan embroidered with a gigantic ghastly flower and...sneans. This woman ticked all the boxes. My judging hat was well and truly on.
Funnily enough this one was the lesser of several evils in the class. There was this one dude (with a hairstyle that screamed "acknowledge I am different!!") who felt the need to voice his opinion loudly, frequently and almost always over the top of the poor lecturer. Not only that, but he felt that we all really needed to know that he just"didn't get" Friends, or American Beauty or (insert several other excellent examples of screenwriting).
Sigh.
I'd like to say that he won the award for most annoying in the class but unfortunately not so. THE mature student of the class happened to sit right.next.to.me.
This one was American and began class by declaring she was tired of people thinking that she was Canadian (said with a deadly serious tone and followed by a filthy look that could only reflect how she saw us- as ignorant New Zealanders). It was a really nice icebreaker and a charming way to introduce one's self to a room full of strangers. Ahem.
Day one of this woman wasn't nearly as bad as day two. Funnily enough she had a very negative view of how the course was going and it was simply not what she had signed up for. Finger tapping, loud sighing and thrusting her head into her desk ensued...seriously. I had to strongly resist the temptation to tell her that it wasn't actually compulsory that she stay but I didn't really want to engage her in any sort of conversation.
Luckily Tom was there so I had someone to exchange looks of disbelief and roll my eyes with. There was also a great moment where this woman tried to bag the movie 'The Blind Side', as a unrealistic portrayal of America in the 60's. Tom took great pleasure in informing her that it was actually set just a few years back and that in fact, the man who it's based on (Michael Oher) currently plays for the NFL. It was definately a high five moment.
To be honest, this woman was just not good at life. Any suspicions were confirmed when she donned prescription sunglasses at the beginning of class due to a contact lens malfunction caused by a perfume-in-the-eye debacle that morning. Oh dear.
But despite these um...colourful characters I still came out of the course feeling inspired and like I'd learnt many things, number one being Uni lecturers may just be the most tolerant people on the planet.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Thursday, September 23, 2010
The Overseas Pull...or Push?
Last night I was on a girl date with one of my good friends who is also a self confessed sufferer of twenty something syndrome and midway through our Pinot Noir (Mt Difficulty, Central Otago if you're interested- and you should be because it's very good), we got talking about travel. We both ended up at the same conclusion: that in your twenties, travel (which should inspire feelings of freedom) actually feels like an obligation at times.
Now I have a confession...I'm nearing my mid twenties and not only have I not had an overseas experience but (prepare to gasp) I don't have any set-in-stone plans to partake in one (in the near future anyway). I actually feel a little guilty admitting to that. It makes me feel like less of a twenty something- and actually less like a proper kiwi girl.
It was a great relief to discover that it isn't just me that feels like in New Zealand we must go on an OE and we must do it before we're 30. At 24 I feel like my travelogical clock is ticking!
Some twenty somethings feel this pressure so strongly that they map their entire life plan around their overseas experience. My friend had a flatmate who was so determined that she would find the love of her life overseas that she turned down many a suitor because it 'just wasn't going to happen' here in NZ- I think she's still single.
I guess you could say that the OE is an expectation pressed upon twenty somethings largely by New Zealand media. Oh but on one condition- you must sacrifice any career ambition and work in a filthy pub.
You see if you leave the country and actually manage to get a job in your skilled field then you're the baddy who has given up all loyalty to New Zealand (cue the magazine style current affairs program harping on about the 'brain drain'). Working in a pub on the other hand is painted as the ultimate rite of passage on your OE. This is why so many of us who have potentially spent years establishing a career in New Zealand suddenly settle for cleaning up spew and pulling handles in London.
It's a clever ploy to benefit the New Zealand economy really because one can only take so many drunken Englishmen leering at one's breasts (and people who insist that "awryt" and "innit" are valid words) before New Zealand starts looking pretty damn good.
In saying all this, the fact that OE's are held in such high regard in New Zealand is quite awesome. You can take comfort that when you come crawling back nursing an exhausted credit card, expired visa and a liver that has lost the will to go on, at least your job prospects are improved.
As you embark on the enevitable job hunt you can now include your overseas experience on your CV. Sure, the majority of your experience probably involved drinking yourself into a stupor and sleeping with randoms but these are mere details! Yes, when you return you are instantly regarded as more worldly and thus a more attractive employee- magic.
Not only that, but the OE also serves as a great way to put off the dreaded alternative to revelling in twenty something syndrome- settling down. Spose I should get packing...one of these days.
Now I have a confession...I'm nearing my mid twenties and not only have I not had an overseas experience but (prepare to gasp) I don't have any set-in-stone plans to partake in one (in the near future anyway). I actually feel a little guilty admitting to that. It makes me feel like less of a twenty something- and actually less like a proper kiwi girl.
It was a great relief to discover that it isn't just me that feels like in New Zealand we must go on an OE and we must do it before we're 30. At 24 I feel like my travelogical clock is ticking!
Some twenty somethings feel this pressure so strongly that they map their entire life plan around their overseas experience. My friend had a flatmate who was so determined that she would find the love of her life overseas that she turned down many a suitor because it 'just wasn't going to happen' here in NZ- I think she's still single.
I guess you could say that the OE is an expectation pressed upon twenty somethings largely by New Zealand media. Oh but on one condition- you must sacrifice any career ambition and work in a filthy pub.
You see if you leave the country and actually manage to get a job in your skilled field then you're the baddy who has given up all loyalty to New Zealand (cue the magazine style current affairs program harping on about the 'brain drain'). Working in a pub on the other hand is painted as the ultimate rite of passage on your OE. This is why so many of us who have potentially spent years establishing a career in New Zealand suddenly settle for cleaning up spew and pulling handles in London.
It's a clever ploy to benefit the New Zealand economy really because one can only take so many drunken Englishmen leering at one's breasts (and people who insist that "awryt" and "innit" are valid words) before New Zealand starts looking pretty damn good.
In saying all this, the fact that OE's are held in such high regard in New Zealand is quite awesome. You can take comfort that when you come crawling back nursing an exhausted credit card, expired visa and a liver that has lost the will to go on, at least your job prospects are improved.
As you embark on the enevitable job hunt you can now include your overseas experience on your CV. Sure, the majority of your experience probably involved drinking yourself into a stupor and sleeping with randoms but these are mere details! Yes, when you return you are instantly regarded as more worldly and thus a more attractive employee- magic.
Not only that, but the OE also serves as a great way to put off the dreaded alternative to revelling in twenty something syndrome- settling down. Spose I should get packing...one of these days.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Hello there!
Welcome to the first Twenty Something Syndrome blog post...and my first blog post ever actually- exciting times! First off I suppose I should define my affliction...
twenty something syndrome:
- noun
typified by a sense of impending obligation to make important life decisions coupled with an intense desire to postpone doing so.
My name is Amanda, I'm 24 years old and I suffer from TSS. As a result of this I guess you could say I'm at a crossroads in life...I just can't decide which direction to go in. Lazy? totally. Comfortable? yep. Fulfilled? nup- well not yet...hence the TSS.
So, a quick idea of where I'm at in the scheme of things. I have a steady job, steady boyfriend and pretty much steady life really. I moved to Auckland from Wellington last December...for love. I can feel you smirking as you read that last bit but I'm one of the lucky people who has followed their heart with absolutely no regrets- eight or so months on I might add. We even live together (a first for both of us who have previously been more than hesitant when it comes to cohabitation- a typical TSS symptom). Okay so I did have a job to go to also (ever the risk taker) but that so ruins the romanticism of it all and to be honest I'm proud of the decision because it was a change and a challenge.
It was actually said love who inspired me to write this blog. We were having one of our 'can't even remember why we're fighting in the first place' arguments the other evening when the TSS reared it's ugly head. I was complaining about being unsatisfied with life and he simply asked me what I wanted to do about it. Try as I might I couldn't answer him. I came to the realisation that at this point, I actually don't know what I want. This led to more frustration and the silent treatment from me (mature for my age obviously...).
This brings me to the most annoying thing about suffering from TSS. As much as you may want to, you just can't feel completely sorry for yourself...for a number of reasons really.
1- you're young and let's face it probably the best looking you're going to be (unless you're destined silver fox material)
2- you can afford to be utterly selfish with your income (you know this when purchases from bars, dairies and restaurants make up 80% of your transactions)
and most importantly...
3- you probably already have the ability to change your situation for yourself- you're just, well...not.
This blog is something I've been putting off for a while so I figured I may as well get my shit together and just do it. What's been delaying the process is that I've never had a 'topic' as such. So I reckon I may as well just write about what I know and what I know is the pressure of being a twenty something. It is probably the scariest and most exciting age you can be because the decisions you make now are likely to be the ones that shape the rest of your life (as much as your seventh form guidance counsellor may have tried to convince you otherwise).
I hope you'll be able to relate to my personal account of a (let's face it, tragically ordinary) twenty something's life. And if for nothing else then reading this blog can serve as a way to procrastinate 'real' life just a little longer...
twenty something syndrome:
- noun
typified by a sense of impending obligation to make important life decisions coupled with an intense desire to postpone doing so.
My name is Amanda, I'm 24 years old and I suffer from TSS. As a result of this I guess you could say I'm at a crossroads in life...I just can't decide which direction to go in. Lazy? totally. Comfortable? yep. Fulfilled? nup- well not yet...hence the TSS.
So, a quick idea of where I'm at in the scheme of things. I have a steady job, steady boyfriend and pretty much steady life really. I moved to Auckland from Wellington last December...for love. I can feel you smirking as you read that last bit but I'm one of the lucky people who has followed their heart with absolutely no regrets- eight or so months on I might add. We even live together (a first for both of us who have previously been more than hesitant when it comes to cohabitation- a typical TSS symptom). Okay so I did have a job to go to also (ever the risk taker) but that so ruins the romanticism of it all and to be honest I'm proud of the decision because it was a change and a challenge.
It was actually said love who inspired me to write this blog. We were having one of our 'can't even remember why we're fighting in the first place' arguments the other evening when the TSS reared it's ugly head. I was complaining about being unsatisfied with life and he simply asked me what I wanted to do about it. Try as I might I couldn't answer him. I came to the realisation that at this point, I actually don't know what I want. This led to more frustration and the silent treatment from me (mature for my age obviously...).
This brings me to the most annoying thing about suffering from TSS. As much as you may want to, you just can't feel completely sorry for yourself...for a number of reasons really.
1- you're young and let's face it probably the best looking you're going to be (unless you're destined silver fox material)
2- you can afford to be utterly selfish with your income (you know this when purchases from bars, dairies and restaurants make up 80% of your transactions)
and most importantly...
3- you probably already have the ability to change your situation for yourself- you're just, well...not.
This blog is something I've been putting off for a while so I figured I may as well get my shit together and just do it. What's been delaying the process is that I've never had a 'topic' as such. So I reckon I may as well just write about what I know and what I know is the pressure of being a twenty something. It is probably the scariest and most exciting age you can be because the decisions you make now are likely to be the ones that shape the rest of your life (as much as your seventh form guidance counsellor may have tried to convince you otherwise).
I hope you'll be able to relate to my personal account of a (let's face it, tragically ordinary) twenty something's life. And if for nothing else then reading this blog can serve as a way to procrastinate 'real' life just a little longer...
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