Wednesday, March 27, 2013

I was a teenage gangster

So Fabian and I are pretty much almost completely moved out now. I know it's been a few months that we've been living here but we've pretty much gotten everything unpacked and in it's finally in it's own 'spot'.

A few days ago Fabian came home with a stack of CD's from his mum's house. I thought we were going to have to have a discussion about how CD's aren't a thing of the modern world and how I never could keep them inside their cases for more than 5 minutes. Luckily though he just wanted me to upload them to the computer before we tossed them out.

Halfway through the stack I found a burnt CD I'd made him after our first fight a few months into the relationship. I put it into the laptop and a tidal wave of nostalgia threatened to drown me, suddenly I was a teenager again.

I've realised that I'm at an age where I can think back to those days with a dreamy eyed fondness. I remember the pride with which I wore the label of 'Southlander' which merely indicated that I shoplifted from Southland and smoked cigarettes in the carpark while I waited for my mum to come and pick me up. It's with a chuckle that I reminisce how I had shaved lines into my eyebrows like a gangster though to be truthful I only followed through with wearing a bandaid on my face (for no reason) a few times.

My highschool jacket had an inside pocket that neatly fit my cigarette packet and it was with pride that I showed off my hideous tattoo in the library during class one day. I don't know when I slowly went from hood-rat gangster to dirty punk but it was sometime after high school and I've inexplicably retained some qualities of both of those phases in my life - thus the shaved head and the fact that I've been playing this CD on repeat since I found it.

Check this out y'all.





1. Two Wrongs
Claudette Ortiz and Wyclef Jean

2. U got it Bad
Usher

3. Suffocate
J. Holiday

4. Dilemma
Nelly and Kelly Rowland

5. Angel of Mine
Monica

6. All My Life
K-ci and JoJo

7. Always on Time
Ja Rule & Ashanti

8. One Call Away
Chingy & J. Weave

9. Baby Boy
Big Brovaz

10. Foolish
Ashanti

I find it hilarious and magical at the same time. If a million years from now aliens discovered all my journals and half-finished writings and this CD in the rubble of our home they would imagine we were star crossed lovers from 'the projects'.

Love NatAaliyah 
(Yes, seriously) x

Tuesday, March 26, 2013

Those days where your arms swing too much

You know those times where you walk down the street and you think to yourself that you're getting away with it. That you have managed to somehow fool the world into thinking you're a normal everyday person - that they have no way of telling just by looking at you that you aren't wearing underwear or that you have conversations with your food as you eat it.

'I am totally blending in here!' you think, somewhat smugly.

Then you see your reflection and you're like

'Oh my god. I am wearing double glasses and my hair is at a 90 degree angle from my head for some reason and WHY ARE MY ARMS SWINGING LIKE THAT? Is that normal?'
 
And then you stare at everyone's arms while you continue walking to the chemist and you get it into your head it's a good idea to try and normalise your arm swing because in this moment there isn't anything you can do about your hair or the fact that you're wearing two pairs of glasses at once.

So you try and shorten the swing of your arms and learn that your arms are somehow inexplicably joined to your legs and if you stop swinging your arms as much you fall over. Then you imagine that everyone thinks you're drunk so you start doing the big toothy smile at everyone and when you finally get into the chemist you proclaim in a shrill voice 'I am Natalija and I need 4 pages certified please.'

You stare at the startled chemist through your double glasses in horror wondering why on earth you just declared your name and merely nod when she gives you back your now signed papers.

That was my day so far. I am now at home, back in my pajamas wondering why my washing machine is a homicidal maniac and trying to will myself to do some cleaning.

I hope I answered your question Chris:

 
 In hindsight I guess I could've answered that with: because some days I am too stuck in my head my friend.

Love N x

Friday, March 8, 2013

Why I never really 'got' International Women's Day when I was younger.


It never struck me as something that I should specially celebrate, being a woman. I’ve been one every day of my life, as far as I know. I’ve grown up mimicking my older sister in all the things she’d say and do and my mum was a constant presence guiding me through every day.

When I became a teenager I started emailing my auntie, to keep my Serbian written skills strong and because I love the woman so much that it was worth emailing her in a language that was starting to become hard for me.

Every fortnight my mum would put me on the phone to have a quick discussion with my ancient grandmother, who had well outlived my grandfather and who I never had the chance to meet. She’d always tell me I was doing well, despite how horribly my schooling was going, and that she loves me more than anything.
I remember her telling me how she used to break into her school gymnasium when she was little so that she could play on all the equipment and she thought that story was one link we had. Our rebellious natures and of course that she had watched me clamber through the playground every day of my early childhood.

It wasn’t until I started to have discussions with my friends about boys and boyfriends and what we want in a partner that I started to realise that some of the girls around me were foreigners, total aliens. They had these concepts of life and love that I didn’t understand. Some of them wanted a rich boyfriend, who’d buy them lots of stuff, another one mentioned a guy who was smart enough that she didn’t need to finish maths at school – a man who would do her bills for her. The idea of anyone providing for me other than myself repulsed me at the time and I thought men that did just maths were pretty boring.

Now I understand the appeal of both of things mentioned above, money is always nice and people can’t really help it if they somehow wind up rich – also I was one of the girls that dropped maths in year 9 and would love it if Fabian could swoop in and figure out our money qualms but, well, he dropped maths shortly after I did.

What I realised as I got older was that I had very set ideas about being a woman and it was because I had been raised in an environment where I was completely surrounded by and was learning from very powerful women. Every single woman in my family and in our family friends circle were powerful women. They were strong, wilful, intelligent, fierce, in my grandmothers case they were pioneers. In a time when women were doing nothing much but being housewives with no voting rights my grandmother was shaping a professional career for herself, much thanks to communist Serbia.

These women were opinionated and, as in the case of my mum, some of them were the sole bread winners for their families. This wasn’t intentional, my mum wasn’t a single working mother to teach me the importance of independence – but by sad fucked up chance, that’s exactly what happened. My father died and left my mum on the wrong side of the planet with no family barely any friends and speaking a language she wasn’t as proficient at as he was.

I watched her struggle. I watched her work 6 days a week. Saw her raise us, look after the house and have rowdy get togethers with her friends that would leave wine glasses and dishes piled ceiling high the next morning. I watched her and I learned, I learned how to be capable, strong, resilient, intelligent, a fighter and I learnt how to survive.

My sister kicked every goal put in front of her and paved a path for me to follow that I frequently stumble from. I saw her succeed at school with amazing grades, be belle of the ball, have a strong supportive friendship group and achieve just about everything she ever set her mind to. She did this and still somehow found the strength to look after me every day when she got home from school and with no trace of resentment I’ve ever managed to discern.

This post about the strong women in my life wouldn’t be complete if I didn’t mention the men. Without the men in my life the strong women wouldn’t be here. My father who married a woman as headstrong as my mum, who loved having 2 daughters above all else, who passed on his love of reading and study to my sister and I and who was courageous enough to marry into a family so dominated by the kinds of women I mentioned above.

The friends my mum was surrounded with were equally male as they were female, they were feminists – men who would argue and shout at the women in their midst, not to frighten or subdue them but to defend themselves and to engage in the fierce arguments and discussions that gripped their circle of friends every couple of nights.

Men who treated their wives and daughters with reverence, respect, love and as equals – so much so that I never understood the whole point of celebrating International Women’s Day.

I surround myself with men and women who are like this every day of my life. My friends, my amazing partner, my family and my colleagues – and I’d like to thank you, for making me proud to be a woman and to be the woman I am today.

Happy International Women’s Day.

Tuesday, January 15, 2013

The golden days, summer of 2013 and my personal challenge


I’m sitting in one of the empty offices at Prahran Malvern Community Housing where Fabians mum is generously letting me use up the internet. I have Taylor Swift singing at me through my headphones and I feel almost euphoric.  

Outside it’s a gorgeous 29 degree day and I feel that life is pretty close to perfect. I know that I am living through a golden period in my life. I’m in my first apartment where everything feels perfect even though there are water stains on the ceiling and our carpet is wonky. Our friends are over most days and we both laugh and smile so much. Neither of us are working or studying or doing anything but enjoying each other and what is the summer of 2013.

Soon Fabian will go back to study, he’s been accepted into the Masters of Urban Planning at Melbourne and I’ll get a job. The bills will be easy to pay but stress will become a normal part of life again and I’ll go back into therapy and these lazy days in our sun-drenched apartment will be over.

I worry the above scenario is the inevitable but I also wonder if it’s perhaps not. 2013 is going to be my year where I will challenge what I think is the norm/inevitable/expected. I’ll do my best to push my limits and live my life in a way where I put my happiness and well-being first.

Hopefully there will be more pottery, DIY, reading, writing, sleeping, laughing, cooking and dancing this year.

Wish me luck gang,
Nani xo

Friday, October 5, 2012

SO basically Gold 104.3 totally owe me.

'Love me do.' says Sofija.
'Yellow Submarine.' retorts Mama triumphantly.

I can remember my mum and my sister playing this game ever since I was little. Mum grew up with the Beatles and as a result my sister and I grew up with them too. Sofija went through a very dedicated stage of Beatledom when she was a teenager and I'm always left surprised and deeply impressed  when she wins the game, the aim of which is to know the most Beatles songs.

Never am I game enough to try and join in even though they urge me to, and every year I'm glad for my choice. I don't know how I'd ever live with the shame of shouting out 'I am a rock!' like I did when I was 12. My sister has been patiently pointing out the difference between The Beatles and Simon and Garfunkle to me since my early days but I don't think it will ever be clear in my mind.

When I heard on the radio today that if you were the 10th caller during The Beatles song - 'A Day In The Life' you could win a car I felt like I'd been preparing for this one moment my whole life. I listened to 7 songs go by angrily dismissing them as 'Bah, Blondie!' etc. until sweaty palms slipping off the steering wheel I realised that this was actually going to happen to me.

I was listening to the old person radio station and knew that of course I could get in to be the 10th person. I had the advantage of knowing how to use a phone at least didn't I? The problem I was struggling with was whether I'd call and make the mistake of being faster than the 10th caller.

The realisation that I pretty much was going to get a new car made me pull over so I could google the number for the radio station. When 3 songs later 'A Day In The Life' came on I was ready. I rang and got the busy signal enough times that when it finally started ringing I was convinced that I must have gotten through, that because I was caller number 10 it was allowing the dial tone to change.

'Hello, Gold 104.3 how can I help you?'

'Uhm, you just played The Beatles' I say, quickly, trying to contain my excitement.

'Yes...and how can I help you?' she says.

'Well, I was hoping I was caller number 10...' I say, voice quivering.

I held my breath expecting her to say something like...

'Why, you're right, I did play it didn't I? Luckily you called to point that out to me, you seem pretty smart. Hey, seeing as you're so smart and fast at dialling, would you know per chance what I could do with THIS BRAND NEW CAR???!!!!'

I'd then calmly say I did know what to do with it and that I'd gladly take it off her hands, a witty enough response that her producer would call me back after the segment and offer me a job during the 4-6 timeslot.

Instead she said ' Oh, you've called Admin. You want the competition line.'

'...' This is where I did my own version of The Sound of Silence (The Beatles, right?).

'...are you still there? Would you like the competition number?' She said kindly.

'It's too late.' I said. She was nice enough to just hang up and not try to comfort me, because obviously I was beyond consoling.

I've been replaying the scenario over in my head since this afternoon and I'm 100% sure that the time lapse between the start of the song and the woman answering the phone was the perfect amount of time for me to be caller number 10.

And well...JUST GIVE ME THE FUCKING CAR ALREADY.

Life is pretty much not fair at all I think.

Love Nani x

Tuesday, August 14, 2012

Trying to be a better girlfriend, the binary system and mustard.

Fabian was sick with the flu last week and because I am a very loving girlfriend I created him the 4th meal I have ever prepared him. If you are shocked, you fall under the category of people who have never seen me in a kitchen.

Usually as soon as I step foot into a kitchen I start sweating and panicing and always manage to get mayonnaise in my eye which is actually amazing because I don't even eat mayonnaise so am never even sure what I'm meant to use it on (though I've decided it's probably not my eye).

As I carried the sausages, pickles and bread upstairs I balanced some mustard on the edge of the plate and triumphantly let out a 'Yes!' when I made it upstairs without dropping anything.

Fabian was in the midst of thanking me profusely, fair enough, when the entire lid of the mustard flew off getting stinky yellow condiment all over the couch and his dinner. Now because I have problems respecting food, belongings, and mustard, I laughed a lot while Fabian blamed me for not putting the lid on the mustard properly.

When I pointed out that I eat mustard once in a blue moon and it couldn't have been me he continued to demand that it was me because apparently I have a problem putting lids on things. This was news to me and I vehemently denied it and have been completely shocked when time and time again since the fateful mustard event he has been able to point out all the things on which I haven't put the lid on properly.

Apparently, half on isn't on.

'It's a binary system Natalija. 0 or 1. Off or on. You can't .5 the binary system. It doesn't work like that.'

Damn it. 

Fabian: 1, Natalija: 0.

Love,

Nani

Saturday, June 30, 2012

Exams are over, or, Rabbits, Red Bull and Gonorrhrea

I walked out of my last exam for this semester in a mad rush, promptly got into my car, blasted the heater and ate a curly wurly.

I wish I could say I then drove off into the distance on this uncharacteristically sunny winter day and started my holidays off with some sort of climax, like I did at the end of last year where on the drive home Eye of the Tiger came on the radio and shook me out of my post-exam coma so briskly that I got a speeding ticket.

Unfortunatelly this time all I did was stare blankly at the wall of my uni eating my curly wurly trying to calculate in my head if I'd somehow accumulated enough marks to pass. Before I could figure it out I got distracted by the rabbits that had been stuck on the wall by some super trendy vandal.


          [I don't know why my University looks like a prison, but I appreciate the 'RABBIT!' tag]

I have to wait until 8pm to celebrate tonight though because my school is run by fascists and I have to be in clinic treating patients even though my exams are over and I am insanely sleep deprived. I am sitting here in the school library getting condescending stares from the Nat's (what we all call the Naturopaths) because I am drinking a Red Bull. If I wasn't so tired I would respond to their stares with a stare of my own which would say,

'Yes, I am drinking a Red Bull and yes, I know it's bad for me. Do you know what's worse? Sticking needles in people after I haven't slept in 4 days and causing a pneumothorax and killing someone. That's worse than Red Bull.'

Exam time always triggers a process through which I go that begins with completely neglecting my physical appearance - this usually happens while i'm motivated and am actually studying.

Then another trigger occurs that makes me drastically neglect my studies and pour my time into my appearance instead. This time it was glancing into a mirror and seeing my reflection - I was surprised to see a pale little mole with a hairy forehead staring at me with a bemused expression. The realisation that this was actually what I look like with a monobrow and with no make up on was a heavy one to accept.

I went home that day and when Fabian, helpful as he is, asked me if I wanted to revise my study notes before my exam the next day - I angrily replied 'NO - obviously I need to be mowing the eyebrow lawn that has taken over half my face.'

By the time I got to my exam my eyebrows were shapely and my nails were freshly manicured and I had managed to mutilate my genitals.

I won't expand on the above statement other than to say: there is something to be said about using really sharp craft scissors to groom your lady garden in the shower where you can't wear your glasses and thus cannot actually see -Yeah, don't do this unless you want to cut a slice off of your vagina.

The positive of this whole situation is that I can sit here (wincing slightly) listening to first year students make the online dictionary pronounce 'gonorrhea', 'anal' and 'chlamydia' and I can smile knowingly at them and I look very good whilst doing so... I will take this opportunity to clear up the fact that I am smiling knowingly because I too had made the dictionary say those words, not because I myself have experienced gonorrhea, chlamydia or anal.

Bring on the holidays,
Love Nani x