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Suddenly 30…lessons learnt thus far

Last night I had another strange dream….I dreamt that this large, red, hulk-esque monster, with no neck, kept bowling large boulders and me and saying in a deep, husky [but scary-husky, not sexy-husky=] “MOVE, MOVE, MOVE” every time it bowled a boulder at me. Now you know I’m all for the meaning of dreams and how they absolutely MUST mean something, so I’ve been trying to figure out why.

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First I thought it could be because I’m just doing SOOOO MUCH exercise….but then I realised that that’s never really going to be a real risk.

Then I actually thought it was due to the stresses of work [and by “stresses” I really just mean that they changed us to Microsoft Office 365 bull shit suite and I don’t know where anything is and none of my short cuts work and it’s massively stressing me out….#firstworldproblems]. I should go 365 on this stupid Microsoft Office and round-kick it in it’s shitty ribbon colours. It’s fucking horrendous, and my days of playing the Excel piano concertos have now gone due to Microsoft and their over-zealous ex-CEO [who I know is not really part of the problem but fuck it, let’s include him in there too just because I love nothing more than a video of a middle-aged, man-boobed man being really excited about software…it’s just brilliant….hmm now watching this video, this guy looks a lot like the red, boulder-bowlling monster from my dream….]

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Anyway Microsoft Office has made me realise that it’s not the fact that people get old and then suddenly they wake up and the only way they can operate any technology is via a long-suffering, 15-year-old niece or nephew…no in fact it’s the fact that stupid people are in charge of stupid technology companies make things less intuitive under the guise that it’s what “millennials” want. Who gives a fuck about millennials anyway?? Most of them don’t even make any money or pay tax. Back in my day [yep I’m going back there], when I was their age I was already working two jobs: one at a plastics factory and the other pushing sports equipment around…it was genuine sweat on your brow, callouses on your hands, Australian hard yakka… [forget that the first job was for my uncle’s business and I was paid in Subway foot longs, and the other job I only took because I got free tickets to watch the Canadian men’s water polo team in the Commonwealth Games….don’t judge….just think of 10 Justin Trudeau’s, in red speedos and you’ll understand my motivations]. Anyway it goes without saying that times have changed…

But on the other hand, perhaps that red, boulder-bowling monster was not trying to tell me to accept Microsoft Office or “move”, but rather it was hinting at something else….you see it could just be that on the eve of my 30th birthday [well eve-ish…ok ok it’s not quite the eve but bear with me…I just turned 30 for fucks sake]…anyway I think in an effort to try and adjust to my new decade my subconscious might be trying to communicate the impending doom that awaits me on my favourite day of the year…my birthday.

The very real threat of suddenly [well not really suddenly…time has gone along quite steadily] but anyway I feel like I’ve been suddenly THRUST, into a new Bridget-Jones-esque world where I now am meant to adult, drink wine at dinner parties and make jokes about how mature I am now that I’m in my “thirties”….OH THE HUMANITY…why me? WHY???? Why couldn’t I just cease ageing and stay at the glorious age of 27 – where you kinda know what you’re doing, it’s still acceptable to not know how to boil an egg, and everyone keeps coming up to you warning you not to “join Club 27”, which doesn’t sound that cool but it’s something that makes you feel a little special compared to all those fucking 26 year olds who are fucking clueless.

Anyway so on this eve-ish of turning 30, it comes as no surprise that 30 has been one of the biggest haunting milestones for…well…for my entire life. A new decade, causes you to reflect upon not only your own morbidity and the impending threat of a red, boulder-bowling monster telling you to “move” ….but you also reflect on all that you said you would achieve by 30. I could go on for hours about all that 15-year-old Arani said that she would have done by 30 – own a Ferrari, be semi-retired in the Bahamas with at least 4-Canadian-water-polo-playing-man-servants, and somehow have managed to take revenge on any school teacher that was annoying me at the time. But as I’ve said numerous times, it is time to stop reflecting on the musings of 15-year-old Arani as I’ve been told it’s unhealthy and “gives a false expectation of reality” [that’s in quotations because basically everyone who loves me has said that to me in a bid to counter my ‘woe is me I’ve achieved nothing’ malaise that I occasionally drop into].

But what have I learnt over my mighty 30 years that I can impart as wisdom to you all? I mean now that I’m 30, I’m basically entitled to have opinions that matter and without reference to my youth. Anyway here’s a list of what I’ve learnt:

  • Writing in bullet points is so much easier. Like seriously. Remember your Year 12 teacher who encouraged you to use ‘flowery language’ for creative writing, and then the Law Professor who told you to write ‘in plain English and NO MORE THAN 1500 WORDS OTHERWISE YOU’LL DIE’? Yeah well fuck both of them. Bullet points are the shit. You don’t even need proper English. You can just write things like “Bullet points = ah-fucking-mazing”. [yes am very well aware that brevity in bullet points is something I’m still working on].
  • Certificates and participation ribbons come few and fast between. That’s why you should follow my example and celebrate ALL wins. For example, when my landlord gave us an absolutely glowing review of how clean the house was, I framed that email and showed my parents. I’m not sure whether it was genuine pride, unwavering parental love, or the fact that they’ve always celebrated all wins since I was a child such that I’ve turned into an entitled “gimme recognition” sociopath [yep that’s their fault not mine]…but anyway they were so, so very proud.
  • Again on the line of celebrating the small wins: if you are able to put a sports bra on and take it off whilst your back is wet (and without feeling like you’re about to rip a boob off), then you my friend, would surely challenge only Beyonce for fierceness [but let’s be honest…Beyonce definitely already knows how to put a sports bra on with a sweat back…please don’t punish me almighty Bey! You’re still my teacher, and I your humble student]. Seriously it’s taken me 30 years to work this one out. Granted I don’t really exercise that much, and am an excessive sweater [like not the jumper kind, the stinky kind], but I’ve now mastered the act and I expect the Australia Rhythmic Gymnastic team to be calling me up for the Rio Olympics anytime now.
  • It’s a thing. Metabolism was always one of those words which for me invoked an image of tiny men running on treadmills really hard, inside your body. I never really understood what it involved. That’s until the last 12 months. BOOM. 10kg in 12 months BITCHEEEES….YEAH! Jealous much? So next time someone offers you a beer, don’t think about the idea of “oh I’m 30 now, hangovers get way worse”, no that’s false. I’m one of the lucky ones who doesn’t seem to get hangovers…rather what I lack in hangovers, I make up for by suddenly having my whole body encased in a 10kg fat suit. So remember to treat those little men well…I don’t know how to, but you know maybe not eating so much birthday cake at work that you need to go to the bathroom for a cheeky vom, is not something they might appreciate.
  • It’s ok to like tofu. This was a weird one that came up on me suddenly. Since a child I’ve suffered from terrible allergies to vegetables and all things vegetarian. It’s been a hard life – the number of times I’ve started uncontrollably gagging when my mum put Brussel sprouts on my plate….times were tough. But anyway I one day discovered tofu thinking it was egg. I don’t know if it’s a vegetable, but it’s delicious. And it’s ok to admit that.
  • It’s worth investing 2 hours of your time practising being able to make a fan that it’s on a “turn” setting, stop EXACTLY where you need it to be. 6 years ago, I spent one very productive afternoon inside, testing my ability to stop a turning fan at exactly where I needed it to be. It takes so much skill – accounting for the wind speed inside your house; accounting for surrounding non-aerodynamic surfaces – but it all paid off! You see now I command the fan and with that comes much power. Through those 35 degree nights, I might conveniently place the fan on “turn” to show my partner that “I care” and “I’m nice” but in reality, when you’re fast asleep Erik, my pure skill means that I’m able to stop that fan with my toe and perfectly aligned to my sleeping body. I awake, calm and well rested without stench of sleeping-back-sweat and feel refreshed. Definitely a worth investment.
  • If you have enough money, and something stresses you out….pay for it to go away. Note that I’m not advocating some sort of hit-man situation where you read this and say “fuck yeah, that guy who sits next to me stresses me out with his loud chewing, I’m going to pay for that guy to be dealt with” and you walk away with an evil grin about to call your local hit-man. No for me, I’ve always struggled with the untamed, wilderness that is my hair. It’s takes 2 hours from start of shower to having presentable washed hair [forgot that I LUURVE my long, hot showers]. Anyway that’s 2 hours that would stress me out. So much planning would occur – “sorry can’t stay and enjoy my Sunday doing this amazing activity that’s about to change my life, I’ve got to get home to start the marathon that is washing my hair”. That was my life. Then I discovered Keratin…which was cool until I realised that it 1) required me to sit in a salon for 4 hours which is hard when you struggle to sit still for 3 minutes generally; and 2) I was probably killing my hairdresser…something I just couldn’t quite get around. Anyway then I found the glorious angels that are the two Korean women who run Hair Point on George St in Sydney. For $35, they wash my hair and all my cares away. Seriously, invest in shit that annoys you.

Alright so that’s it! I’m Suddenly 30 and despite what any red, boulder-bowling monster might think, I have so far learnt so many life lessons…I can’t wait for what life lessons Beyonce…*ergm* I mean “life” has in store for me.

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About Arani Satgunaseelan (78 Articles)
Corporate nerd. Wannabe blogger.

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