Who's your daddy? A Father's Day Post

Isn't it funny how much one day can make a difference? It's been 2 weeks since my last blog post because last weekend the internet was down at my house, hence I spent most of my time pondering life's purpose and questioning my identity #firstworldproblems style instead of being a productive member of society like everyone else.

In these last 2 weeks, I've managed to end my search for a new job - one which I feel is more true to the kind of thing I can see myself doing long-term (something I guess I couldn't really write about prior to it becoming official). I received a couple of job offers on the same day which was such a blessing for me as I've been searching for a role that I am more suited to for a little while now. It was strange interviewing for jobs when I already had one. It's the first time I've looked for a job with the intention of finding something that I am suited for and that suits me too, rather than just a job I am capable of doing to get me by for the time being.

So to sum it up, I'm moving into a market research role mid-September, in a different company but within the same umbrella as my current company. This means I get to stay in the building I currently work at, which is even more of an added bonus because daily free breakfast and a 20-30 second walk to the train station is hard to come by in this cut-throat world.

I've made it known that this year is all about progression for me, and pursuing the things I want to pursue from an achievment stand-point. But these past 2 weeks it's dawned on me that I'm not a very soft-hearted person. To be honest, I don't know if I ever have been. When people come to me with their problems, I'm the one to whack them on the back and say "she'll be right", "man-up, son!" or more commonly "why don't you go buy a purse to match that skirt you're wearing, Nancy?" - being a stronghold or pillar for someone emotionally has never been my strength as a friend, I guess because I'm so emotionally fragile I'm usually the one in need of this.

This fortnight I managed to make and lose a best friend, and upset a few other people along the way with words I don't realise at the time cut deep. I don't know whether it's because I've been hurt and have built up an emotional resilience or if its a subconscious result of the way I was brought up, but I'm cold and brutal, and that's something else I would really like to improve in myself for the remainder of this year. To become more soft-hearted.

Soft-hearted like my dad. (seamless segue, right?)

Arnold Gallardo - aka coolest Asian you will ever meet. The below screenshot sums him up perfectly.

In light of Father's Day today, I thought I would list a few reasons why my dad is the best dad.

• Every morning, my dad drives my mum to the train station so she can get the early train to work. My dad then comes back home and picks me up to drive me to the station so I can have a 15 minute sleep in.
• My dad still packs my lunch for me.
• My dad still pays for my phone bill. Though, not for much longer.. (see next dot point).
• My dad writes me emails to tell me how much my phone bill for that month cost. I deflect these emails with replies such as "Sorry, who is this?" and "ERROR. MAIL COULD NOT BE DELIVERED".
• My dad refers to anything and everything on the internet as being "downloaded". It's his hip 21st century street-speak. (e.g. "Can you download these photos to Facebook?", "All you need to do is download it on Google" and "Can you download the weather for today?"

So in a nutshell, he's pretty much amazing.

And finally.... my big announcement!

HTTP://ZERAHAHA.COM

HTTP://ZERAHAHA.COM.AU

&

HTTP://ZERAHGALLARDO.COM  - (still a lot of work to be done/added).

are now live and active! Peruse as you wish!

Do you have any similar father stories? Why is your dad the best?

Leave a comment or share on Facebook if you're feeling kind, otherwise, you can find a new entry on here next Sunday as usual!

Reasons I Love ChatRoulette

One of my good friends has recently decided to leave the nest that is her parents house and venture into the independent lifestyle of living alone. A group sleepover was called for, and on the agenda for the night amongst baking cookies, drinking games and exercising poor personal hygiene was the inaugural... Chatroulette.

Everyone should know what Chatroulette is, so I won't bother going into too much detail explaining, but basically it's kind of like speed-dating over live video chat with anyone from anywhere who is on at the same time as you. You are matched with someone, and if anyone on either side doesn't feel like talking to who they are matched with they can press 'F2' which skips that partner and generates a new match. This happens until you find someone you are happy to speak to who is also willing to speak with you.

Chat roulette, contrary to popular belief is so much more than just an online erection gallery.

Sorry, I had to add the image for a thumbnail worthy of cheap clicks. 

Chatroulette on Friday night taught me so many life lessons about the world in which we live, and I would really like to share some of those learnings with you.

We played a game with people we were chatting to, asking them to take their laptop/webcam to the window to show us what was outside. It was incredible seeing where some of these people were. A few memorable ones from the list were a man's balcony overlooking Milan, a French man's suburban backyard, a group of Americans in the military based in South Korea, a British man smoking pot in a legitimate conservatory, a couple of guys out on a fishing boat, and a 16 year old kid from Ohio's backyard.

Of course with any public online (or real life) forum will come young girls seeking affirmation and validation of their worth through strange men, and men both young and old willing to take advantage of these girls' insecurity within themselves, but... believe it or not, once you filter through all the middle-aged and overweight Turkish men, and skim past the 14 year old boys rubbing on their erections through their shorts, there are some really cool and decent people out there.

Though, with every pro comes a con, and on Friday night my soul bled and my heart wept for the future of society when I saw kids (actual children between the ages of 9-14) on Chatroulette.
Judging from the pretty morbid things I saw that night, I could only imagine what these kids were being exposed to and how it would effect their lives - What killed me even more was when we came across a couple of girls no older than 12 mimicking giving blowjobs to their chat partners. I couldn't take it. I wanted so much to protect them from the countless  men out there with questionable intentions, but I was conflicted by seeing them act this way and had to F2 (skip) them because I didn't want to believe what I just saw, and because being charged for pedophilia is not high on my life's to-do list.
Seeing that not only physically hurt my heart, it only reinstated my decision not to bring anyone into this broken world.

This is actually me.

After us girls had our fun with speaking with the charming men out there whose false hopes of us taking our tops off or kissing each other may have lingered for a lot longer than we should have allowed, we agreed on searching for some decent girls for the boys.

Gotta keep trollin', trollin', trollin'.

The thing with chatroulette is, the image/video displayed could be anybody. We learnt the hard way that the majority of hot chicks on there are actually just pre-made videos on a loop with someone else typing as though they are the person on the video. There was a point where we thought we were chatting to a girl who was the definition of DTF. She was laying on her bed asking us what we wanted to see, with a very suggestive cleavage hanging out of her bra, and only one of us noticed her movements were repeating themselves. Quickly realising we were being trolled by a true wizard, we F2'd our way out of there!
My advice on chatroulette is to be sceptical of anyone who doesn't have a mic.

So in summary, if I had to break it down, Chatroulette is 70% middle-aged and sexually frustrated Turkish men, 20% teens who are looking for sexual release/validation, 8% videos of hot chicks on a loop, being monitored by a middle-aged Turkish man, and 2% normal fun people looking to have stimulating conversation with fellow internet users from around the globe.

Side note:
This week I purchased some domains for my blog and online portfolio, so this is soon to be HTTP://ZERAHAHA.COM! Just awaiting the payment to go through, but watch this space for progress. I'll also be posting all my published work at HTTP://ZERAHGALLARDO.COM, so once payment goes through for that, you are free to peruse even more of my writings.

I post a blog every Sunday, so I will hopefully see you back here next week.

Leave a comment below or share on Facebook if you're feeling kind :)

Smells Like Teen Spirituality

To be honest, I've been so tied down this week I haven't had a chance to live life and observe things to make any comedic commentary on.

So, to save you from having to read about compiling spreadsheets or sleep deprivation (story of my life this past week), I want to write about something that's been on my mind for some time now. 

I really wanted to save this topic for a later date as it is a little bit controversial and I would like to have written about it when my blog had gained a bit more of an audience so I could potentially spark some conversation, but for the sake of not having any other material, this will have to do. Funny stuff to come in future posts, I promise! Just let my sentimental conscience have a run for its money this week....

I've been thinking about death a lot recently... Not in a creepy, dark way, but more of a "what if that happened to me?" kind of way. I don't know if turning 22 has signified the beginning of the end for me, but I'm starting to realise that death is a real possibility, and of course with death comes the unknown of life afterwards.

Another one of my mother's famous conditions of living under her roof is that I have to go to church with my family quite regularly. I think this is her attempt at keeping me in line, hoping that I'll someday find the light. The thing is, I think I'm a lot closer to finding it than she might think, I just hate the aspect of being forced into finding it. I refuse to be spoon-fed something that has been ingrained within me since birth, and for the same reason I hate it when my teammates cheat in pub-trivia, I like figuring things out for myself.
Though, as much as I hate being forced into going to church, in the end I never regret going.

I've grown up with Christians. And one thing you should know, that I really want to be clear right now is that Christians are no different to anyone else. In theory, yes, they should be kind-hearted and selfless in a way that reflects the basis of their beliefs - however, this isn't always the case. Christians are human, and like every other human, they will fail to be perfect. I hate exclusivity, and Christians, or at least a lot of the ones I know are the best at being exclusive. I went to a Christian lunch group in high school, and the feedback I heard from people who came to visit told me that the group was doing more harm than good, making them feel like outsiders or unwelcome. In trying to be a hero, I've made it a mantra to show people that it's not supposed to be like that. I wanted to show people that Christians were just people too, but I guess I've compromised myself along the way and done just as much damage as the hypocritical Christian groups in confusing people about what a Christian is. Now I'm sort of stuck trying to find how I can apply what I believe in to the life I live now.

The thing you should know is that no matter how hypocritical or poorly Christians reflect Christian values and morals (I am a great example of this), it doesn't change the entity or goodness of God. If you're searching for God in Christians, don't do it. You won't find what you're looking for and will only be gravely misled.

I don't mean for this to be a sermon, but merely a insight into my thoughts on the subject. I'm still trying to figure it all out, but the fact that I'm scared of death tells me that I have a long way to go in this discovery.

The thing is, I'm at a sort of agnostic-theist point where I believe in the existence of God, but have found little application for that belief. Believing that something exists isn't anywhere near enough. In turn, the lifestyle I live is almost atheist as the belief I have in God rarely makes it's way into my day-to-day, and I have not found myself actively searching for answers.... well, that is until now.

I've begun to question the point of some of my life goals, like saving money and owning property, because one day it won't matter anymore. One day you and I will be dead, and there is every possibility that we will be summoned to a spiritual realm of heaven or hell, and I'll be honest with you... when I think about that,when I really think about it, it scares me.
But the thing is, I don't want to be scared into believing something. I don't want to claim to believe something merely as a safety net or preference to the other option. If I believe it, I want the belief to be real, and that's the part I'm struggling with - whether my belief is due to true belief, or the conditioning of my upbringing. I sometimes question whether or not I would have the same beliefs if I were brought up in a different way, by different people. I think the existence of God makes sense, it's just the application or exercise of that belief that I find hard to comply with.

There really was no point in that ramble, I am so far from finding answers I can't exactly end this with an epiphany or moral of the story. But know that when I do find something, you'll be hearing about it...

In other news, I thought you'd be interested in seeing some analytics from my blog.

The past month, my top visitors have been from all those countries on the left.

The past week my top visitors have been from the above audiences.

This all might seem cool, but the data also tells me that a lot of page views I'm getting are from people who have typed in "lesbian threesome" into Google and landed HERE. (*facepalm*)

..... Not quite the overwhelming success/response I've been anticipating but it's still fairly early days.

If you have any thoughts on the above feel free to leave me a comment below, and like I said... funny stuff to make a re-appearance in the coming weeks.

Rejected Article # 1 - Facebook Event RSVP etiquette

Today I find myself in the midst of 21st season, otherwise known as the season when every weekend consists of congregating at a said venue dancing to the same songs, listening to the same drunken speeches and coming up with a last minute costume to whatever ridiculous theme the host has conned you into participating in.

Having attended countless of these parties over the past year, as well as having just hosted my own 21st this month, there is one other remaining constant I have observed. 

Needless to say, the first and fundamental step to hosting any type of get together such as a 21st is the infamous Facebook event. For the two people reading this who do not partake in the social network site, a Facebook event is essentially a resource users can use to create and invite their friends to upcoming occassions. The guests who are invited are then able to RSVP as 'Attending', 'Maybe Attending' or 'Not Attending'. As straight forward as these options may seem, there is actually a hidden meaning behind how to interpret them. 

A lot of preparation goes into organising events such as birthday parties, so I thought I would do my part for society by outlining basic Facebook event RSVP etiquette.

Drawing upon what I've seen this year, I'll put forward what each RSVP option really means, and attempt to translate how they should be interpreted so that you can adequately prepare for your upcoming soiree.

I'm Attending: 

Roughly 30% of people who click 'I'm Attending' won't actually attend your event. Do not be fooled! It is a crazy coinsidence that your birthday also happens to fall on the same day a freak case of the Ebola Virus spreads throughout your network of friends because one-third of those 100 people "Attending" are going to text you an hour before your party starts and tell you they aren't feeling well. 

I must stress that 'I'm Attending' numbers are in no way an accurate reflection of the raging party you're anticipating to have. People who click ‘Attending’ either want to appear really popular, want to be polite, or by the off chance are actually a decent friend and wouldn't miss your birthday for the world. But I wouldn't count on it.

Maybe Attending:

People who click on 'Maybe Attending' can be summed up as people waiting for a better offer. They might consider making an appearance if nothing better comes up in the meantime, but the majority of people who click 'Maybe Attending' have no actual intention of attending your party, and the only gift you'll be receiving from them is the gift of false hope.

Not Attending:

This is probably the most straight forward option to interpret. People who click on 'Not Attending' are actually saying "Did you seriously invite me? I do not like you, and am not afraid to show it to all your friends".

With all these mixed messages and meanings in Facebook event RSVP-ing, you may be thinking that creating a Facebook event page may be a redundant form of invitation, however with these handy tips, you'll be able to differentiate your Great Aunt's sensible tea party from something of Corey Worthington proportions.

Valium is to kryptonite

This week I’ll be leaving little label/tags around unsuspecting parts of Sydney for innocent bystanders to discover in hopes to boost numbers to my blog, and expand my “following” outside of just the people I know. 

This idea was inspired (completely stolen) by my beautiful friend Nicole who has been sticking post-its with my blog URL on it around the world on her overseas trip.

If you’re one of the lucky people to find one, or should I say “the chosen ones”, who have made the curious and courageous step to see where the oh-so-mysterious piece of paper leads you, WELCOME to my blog! I would really love to hear from you in the comments box below. Where did you find it? Where are you from? How do you like your eggs?

In other news, as mentioned in ‘You Only Live Twice’ – I am dedicating this year to doing things I want to do for me. With the help of a very generous friend, I was able to land some time singing at my favourite lounge bar ‘The Red Door’, located in Surry Hills on Friday night. I sang 3 songs all up. A couple of videos of the songs can be found below, but keep in mind it’s very dim-lit, so the lighting in the videos is less than ideal (ie. probably the worst ever), and if at times it sounds like my voice is shaking because I’m nervous to the point of near-excretion…. It’s probably because I was.

SMELLS LIKE TEEN SPIRIT - NIRVANA (COVER)

ELECTRIC FEEL - MGMT (COVER)

I haven’t done anything like this in a while and I was getting my nervous system confused with my anxiety symptoms from earlier this year. I wanted my racing heart and butterflies to be gone with, but unfortunately it’s not as easy as chanting “BE GONE WITH YOU, NAUSEA! YOU ARE BANISHED!” – When my anxiety began to flare up, I would usually take a valium (prescribed) to help with subsiding the sensations.

…I can easily see how people might get addicted to valium. When I first began to take it, I was cautious. Being a 5 foot Asian girl, I don’t have a great reaction to alcohol, so I’m often hesitant/against trying physically altering substances (energy drinks, illicit drugs, etc). It would only be in extreme cases, where I’d be crouching over the toilet at work dry-retching where I would consider taking half a pill. I soon came to find that valium was anxiety’s kryptonite and not long after I found that I was taking it at even the slightest hint of any sort of discomfort.

Anxiety seems to be a really vague term, and if you don’t know much about it, I don’t blame you. Before being diagnosed, neither did I. I had to learn about the condition as I went.

Anxiety to me, prior to being diagnosed had a stigma of being a condition whereby you wouldn’t be able to leave the house or function like a normal person because you were afraid of everything outside.  Personally, I suffered from un-triggered nausea. I would basically begin to feel my throat closing in, and the sensation of wanting to choke or throw up out of nowhere. I’d had this for a long time, but only in very small doses. Maybe 30 seconds or so of nausea once every few months, so it was entirely manageable. I honestly just figured my body had a weird reaction to certain weather patterns, or something equally as trivial.

It wasn’t until earlier this year when my nausea “attacks” became a lot more frequent, and could last for up to an hour. When these bursts of nausea happen, it’s not as simple as “feeling sick”. I physically wouldn’t be able to move. Once the feeling would come over me, I would freeze wherever I was and just have to wait until it subsided.
One time I was 15 minutes late to work because I was on the other side of the road at the crossing, just watching the light go green as everyone else walked past me. All I had to do was take one step onto the road, but I couldn’t do it. All I could do was watch the light go green. I watched it go 10-15 times before I could convince myself that I was going to be okay if I crossed the street too.
It’s a really hard thing to describe to someone who hasn’t felt it before, and it’s even more frustrating for the people you spend time with, because without any visible signs of you actually being sick, it’s hard to sympathise or understand. Being constantly told by someone that they feel sick gets old pretty fast.

When my attacks began interfering with my day to day living, I knew I had to see a doctor. It was conflicting, because I didn’t know what was happening to me at the time, and it just didn’t seem like a legitimate medical problem that a doctor would know how to deal with. Like a fool, I would try to think of different ways I would explain my symptoms that would lessen the possibility of me sounding completely insane.

“So, it’s a funny thing, really. I’m sure you get this all the time…  But sometimes, for no apparent reason, I just start feeling sick. My throat just closes in, and I can’t move or talk. I feel like I’m choking. I don’t actually throw up, I just feel like throwing up if I move…  It’s this weird thing I get occasionally… Not too often, just 3-4 times a day….. That’s pretty normal, right?”

 So yeah, you could see my dilemma………

One Saturday I went to see a doctor I had never seen before because my family doctor wasn’t working that day. I told her of my symptoms with full expectations to be shut down and told to stop wasting her time. It was busy that day at the medical centre, so I could tell she just wanted to get through as many patients as quickly as possible.

“You have anxiety. Here’s a prescription for valium”
“Umm……. WHAT??? Uh…. Ok?”

Without any real explanation as to how she knew what it was so quickly, and how my symptoms could possibly relate to anxiety, I just bought my medication and left. That night I told my mother what had happened, and she suggested I get a second opinion.

The next day our trusted family doctor was in so I saw him. He pretty much said the same thing, but thankfully with a lot more explanation. He gave me a “mental care pack” which entitled me to 10 free sessions with an in-house psychologist.

I went home and I researched the fuck out of anxiety; the causes, the symptoms, the remedies. I still had the attacks, but its funny how much more scary something can be when you don’t know what it is. Once I knew it was anxiety causing my symptoms, it didn’t make them go away, but I could rationalise what was happening to me in my head a lot better.

I began seeing my psychologist, and she basically became like a best friend. I could tell her all about the darkest aspects of my life, the things that were bothering me, things I had done, and I could tell her the full, uncensored version. The additional one-up she had on my closest friends is that she could also educate me about how to deal with my attacks, should they occur. She taught me breathing techniques and helped give order to the chaos in my life at the time.
Together we narrowed the cause of my anxiety down to a couple of triggers. An unpleasant work situation, and the fact I was in a relationship I knew wasn’t going anywhere.
Both of these situations have been removed which has alleviated most, if not all the symptoms I used to get.

I haven’t yet finished my mental care package. My psychologist only comes in on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and right now I really can’t afford the time off work. I’m doing okay without her for now though. My only problem is if I do have a random attack, I don’t know how well I will deal with it, but…. I guess that’s something for future-Zerah to worry about.

After going through the system, I have complete faith in and respect for all psychologists out there, and my best advice for someone who is seeing one is to be completely open and honest with them. 
They will help you, if you let them.

I’m glad I didn’t take the valium on Friday night. I’m proud of myself, for not being dependent like I normally would be, and for not taking the easy way out. I think it’s still yet to be tested, but I’m definitely on the road to normalcy.

Oh, and Arj Barker is in Sydney, and didn’t put it up on his website. I've tried tweeting him, but I think he likes playing hard to get.

Want to know a secret?

I have to be honest with you. I may not have been completely transparent with my intentions for this blog. 

I’m a massive fan of the philosophy of sharing secrets in order to give others permission to see you vulnerable, to let them know that everyone is in the same boat. We all have weaknesses, fears, triumphs, ambitions, aspirations, longing and dreams.

I’m going to share a dream of mine with you.

I want to write a book – Not just any book. A New York Times best-seller.

So what I’m trying to say is, this blog is a stepping stone for me to get where I want to go.

I’ve taken the liberty of mapping out a path to take to achieve this:

1.  Start blog (check)
2.  Write cool and interesting stuff.
3.  Drive traffic and awareness to blog.
4.  Acquire internet fame.
5.  Pray and wait for someone with a lot of money to discover and heavily enjoy blog.
6.  Convince aforementioned rich person to help fund my novel.
7.  Tick off item number 1 on life’s to-do list.

.... Now that I've come clean, and you know my motives, let’s get on with it, shall we?

I mentioned in my introduction post (click here to jog your memory), that one of the things I wanted to share with you was my search for love, and I figured, you can’t really understand someone’s journey without being given some context into their past. So, in the spirit of sharing secrets, and I think enough time has passed for me to be able to talk openly about this, I'm going to give you a brief rundown on the colourful past few years of my life, the reason I am the way I am, and why some of my choices have been less than ideal.

Let me take you back in time, to the 90's. John Howard had just been elected Prime Minister, Michael Jordan was at his peak, and double-denim was still socially acceptable.

This is a photo of me circa 1996.

 
















Yes, yes... laugh it up. The sad thing is, it only gets worse.




Zerah Gallardo circa 2000.

I managed to convince my parents I would look great with curly hair, and I got a perm at age 10. A legitimate perm.
Although there are several things wrong with this photo, I make no apologies for my metallic blue zip-up vest. I was sporting that badass piece with style all year round.

But despite contrary belief, and I know this may be hard to believe, but I was not fighting off the boys left and right.

Growing up with two different coloured eyes, buck teeth and a raging monobrow is not exactly a great recipe for attention from the "cool guys" at school. In fact, what it is a great recipe for is being incessantly bullied and coming home crying almost everyday. My low self esteem didn't necessarily stop me from being confident in other areas of my life. I've always known what I am capable of. I've always had amazing friends.
What my childhood did do to me was convince me that I am ugly, and that I couldn't attract attention from boys (now men) I was attracted to no matter how hard I tried. 

I have what I like to call "ugly duckling syndrome". I'm not saying I am a dazzling, vivacious swan, but I at least have two very distinct and separate eyebrows now, and when I do attract some sort of male attention, to me it's miraculous, because ingrained in my mind is that I am still that girl growing up who despite all her efforts to be something, anything else was always branded as unattractive.

So, with this in mind, I've subconsciously always tried to hold onto any male attention I receive, no matter who from. I have a real fear of being alone, so I've often settled for relationships which compromise what I might want for myself because I don't know when an opportunity to be with someone is going to arise again.

I rocked the McDonald's arches monobrow look up until about 2002/03, and then high school hit and things started to change for me. My.... interesting relationship past began to form, and is as follows:

2004 - Year 9. My first "real" boyfriend. (I say real, because when I was in year 6, I "went out" with a boy for 2 weeks, but after we were "officially going out", because we were so shy around each other, we only ever spoke on the phone after school and completely avoided each other when we were in the same place).
 
So this first REAL boyfriend was funny and talented and everything I wanted at the time, and because he was the first person I ever really received romantic reciprocation from, I obsessed over him until the end of high school, despite the fact we only went out for 5 months. He was my first love and he taught me a lot about the qualities I wanted to find in a partner. He's a good person and we're still loosely in touch every now and then.

2008 - The year after high school. Nothing much to mention here. A brief stint with a Uni tutor (from another Uni), but not much else.

2009 - Brace yourself. - I had the pleasure (sarcasm) of having an internet boyfriend. He was from North Carolina. It's funny, because although we only ever spoke on Skype and on the phone, to me, in my sick and twisted mind, he WAS my boyfriend. I would speak to his friends and family like I knew them. My friends at Uni would talk about their boyfriends, and I would join in their conversations and talk about things "my boyfriend" had said or done. 
The worst part is my poor friends who knew what was going on just played along with it, like it was normal, because they knew how much it meant to me and how serious I was about this guy. 

It eventually ended because he "cheated" on me with a (real life) girlfriend, and I cut him out of my life. Today, we are occasionally in touch, though nothing more than polite small-talk.

2010 - Chinese whispers seems to be a favourite game for some people, so you may have heard parts of this story, or even augmented versions, but put simply, this is it.
I met an older man who, from the get-go, just got it. He got me. He was smart and funny and politically incorrect, just the way I like. I fell in love far too quickly, and long story short, he turned out to be married. Despite any moral obstacles, we continued the relationship for over a year. It was life-changing and I grew up and learnt so much about myself this year. It was an intense and sadistic relationship full of heartache and drama and everything that makes it passionate and exciting.
We broke up due to me not wanting that situation for my life anymore, but shortly after his wife found out about the entire thing, and, as you could probably imagine, it was less than pleasant for all involved.
He is now single, and has been for over a year. We've considered getting back together, but the truth is we are too similar. We have the same perceptions, the same flaws and we're both looking for the same things in life. But the thing is, you can't provide something for someone else that you are yet to find for yourself. Although I think being with him taught me some life lessons ahead of my time, he'll always be "the one that got away".

2011 - The beginning of 2011 was when all the drama of the above occurred, as well as losing my best friends (another story for another day). I was really on the search for something stable, something drama-free, and I was lucky enough to meet someone who was the perfect gentleman to me. He was my saving grace at a time when I really needed someone who I could depend on, and who could be my companion. The relationship only lasted 7 months, but I have nothing bad to say about it. We broke up because we were trying so hard to make something work that just wasn't meant to be. I learnt the hard way that a relationship can't fix the brokenness inside yourself. I don't talk to him anymore, but I do wish him all the happiness in the world. 

2012 - The first half of this year has been a whirlwind of searching for another companion, and filling the void with knowingly temporary substitutes for the real thing. I think I have been on more dates with random men this year than I can count, including a couple of real catches (sarcasm yet again) from speed-dating sessions I went to with my friends. After realising the casual dating scene really wasn't for me, I've recently started to, as they say, C.T.F.D. But my psychologist (will elaborate in a later post) was an absolute legend for being able to keep up with it all. 

I am currently seeing one person more seriously. It's still early days, but he is smart, funny and also a perfect gentleman. He works back and forth in Western Australia, so I hardly see him which I think is a good thing for now. It gives me time to focus on myself and figure out what I want instead of irrationally rushing into something like I normally would. I don't think we know each other well enough to predict whether it's going to be a long term thing or not, but I really enjoy his company, so I'll give it a go and will keep you updated on progress.

Lastly, since we're on the topic of love, I want you all to join me in my pursuit of a date with my number 1 celebrity crush: stand-up comedian Arj Barker. I often use my twitter account to try and get his attention, and he's tweeted me back a couple of times.

So yeah, you can tell we're pretty serious now.

So, every now and then I will post about any progress I've made with him, and hopefully, together we can make this dream come true.

Consider "OPERATION: GO ON A DATE WITH ARJ BARKER" officially underway!

If you would like to keep up to date with any contact we may make, please follow me:

https://twitter.com/zerahaha

So, I feel I have revealed a lot about myself in this post, and hopefully that is enough to earn your respect, rather than an opportunity for you to use something against me as blackmail.

Please feel free to leave me any comments or questions.

Be well with yourself.

You only live twice.

So, I came back from Thailand on the weekend. It was only a short 9-10 day trip, but I still managed to come back home with the skin tone of an African temptress.

I had booked the trip shortly after I was diagnosed with anxiety a few months ago (story for another day) and had recently broken up with my boyfriend of 7 months along with plenty of other dramas which seem to find their way into my life too easily and too often. I just needed to forget and escape, and get away from everything that was troubling me here. It was the best remedy, and in terms of time off and relaxation it was everything I needed.

It's funny because my parents are from the Philippines, and so I've been there a few times in my childhood. I thought that once you'd seen one part of South-East Asia, you've seen it all, but I was utterly culture shocked. I realised when I got there it was my first time in a country where I didn't speak or understand the language, and to be honest... It was scary. The process of finding which airport gate I was supposed to go to by following the broken-‘Engrish’ signs  was a struggle enough, let alone trying to interpret what the locals were saying to me. What makes it worse is that half the time people thought *I* was a Thai local and would start speaking to me in Thai.

I remember being in the pool of one of our resorts one evening and I could hear a group of 3 middle-aged Australians talking close by. It was clear they were Australian, because they were what we would describe as inordinately "occa".

As I got out of the pool and walked past them, a conversation began...
Man 1: Where are you from?
Zerah: I’m from Sydney.

 ... All 3 were evidently confused as to how this could be. An Asian standing before them speaking English.

 All 3: Sydney?!?!
Extra bogan lady, likely nicknamed Shazza: That’s roight near us! We from down Souf in Ulladulla!
Man 2: How long you been in Sydney for?

  ...  I began to catch on that they may not get that many Asians down in Ulladulla.

  Zerah: I was born in Sydney, actually.

 ... The confusion escalates

  All 3:  Yeww were BAWN in Sydney?!?!??!
Man 2: Well, YOU’RE A REAL AUSSIE, THEN!
Zerah: Haha, I guess I am!
Man 1: Yeah. You speak good English....

Sometimes the overwhelming ratio of Asians in the Sydney CBD scares me, so it was refreshing to discover that it is counterbalanced enormously in other areas of the country.

As much as I don’t want to sound like a preaching mother Teresa, the trip really did make me realise what I take for granted here. You don’t understand how good it feels to open my mouth in the shower without fear of contracting SARS or the Ebola virus. I feel so free just walking down the street without fear of being attacked by hidden snakes in long grass or one of those “harmless house lizards” which, despite what everyone else thought, were cute for approximately zero seconds.

I spent my 22nd birthday there, and it’s a known statistic* that you’re at your life’s peak at age 22. I had 9 hours on the flight back home to sit in my own company and reassess my life, and I came to one main conclusion:

I want to have something more to show for the peak year of my life than having just sat at my desk, working on spreadsheets.

 

I realised that my greatest fear in life isn’t dying or being alone. My greatest fear is not reaching my potential, and looking back on my life when I’m old wishing I had done more.

Matt and I met a lady in one of our public taxis in Thailand. She was in her 50’s, all dolled up and ready for a night out. She told us she was going to a Reggae party that night which really impressed me. In agreement with her choice to keep living young, I told her “you only live once”. She told us that she always says “You only live twice. Once for everybody else, and once for yourself”.

I decided that this year, 22; is going to be dedicated to achieving things for me. And although that may sound selfish, I don’t want to wait until I’ve had kids and they’ve moved out of home for me to start doing what I want to do.
Men may get more distinguished as they age, but we women deteriorate rapidly after 30.  So just letting you know, you can expect me to be doing more of the things I like doing; writing, singing, not getting pregnant... you know, the usghe...

* = By known statistic I mean that I think I heard someone say it once.