Wednesday, July 29, 2015


In a perfect world, or at at least in my own perfect world, day trips would happen spontaneously and semi-frequently. An ephemeral respite from the churn of Melbourne and my uni free, work-based lifestyle would materialise without much thought or planning. 

Furthermore, everyone I held dearly would be available, throwing away their schedules in pursuit of this idealised, but rarely eventuating, escape from normality.

Unrelentingly and increasingly as the years pass me by, spontaneity is replaced by schedules and the ethos that time spent working is time spent wisely. It saddens me that people choose the pursuit of financial gain rather than enjoying the time they have in the present. Foregoing their friendships for the materialistic but undeniably addictive quest for money, a ubiquitous but at times elusive entity.

That's why I've been trying as much as possible this year, despite fatigue, feelings of anxiety or of melancholy, to say yes to opportunities as they arise. Denying the pre-destined route of mundanity and schedules, saying yes avoids the trap of focusing predominantly on the future, and, as a result, missing out on the most important, and arguably only period of time, the present. 

Although the road trip I recently shared with friends wasn't spontaneous, and was much more stressful and tiring than the trip I had imagined in my head, I'm glad we all made the effort to combine in a mutual desire to adventure outside Melbourne.

As memories begin to weigh down on me, my cache growing with each moment, I know it is times like this that I will cherish soon and long into the future. My mind reliving the experience every so often, the negative parts dulled and the best moments fixated and enhanced. Sometimes the fade of memory isn't necessarily a bad thing.

Rye Pier

A polaroid of my Mate Sara, in her shawled alter ego Olga