That’s Stella

It was a beautiful moment. I felt a little light headed, yet everything seemed so clear for the first time this year. Honestly, the feeling was completely overwhelming and I laughed but I wanted to cry but I had the biggest grin on my face.

I wanted to have a smoke, drown a vodka and jump in the air.

It was like someone turned on a switch in the back of my head when I realised

I hate my job.

It was the start of the week and by noon I had had my revelation.

My client was giving me the silent treatment. Someone had fucked up and because I am the middle man, I cop all the flak and dissapointment and abuse. After I got off the phone kissing my clients butt, I realised “Wow. This is SO not me. I feel like I’m in a relationship here and usually I am the one to give the silent treatment. Why am I pretending to be someone I’m really not? I don’t even get paid enough to warrant such irregular behaviour. I am going to be doing this my whole life…”

And thats when I had my light bulb moment.

I realised if I was to stay in my job, I would be going against all my beliefs. I do believe you can make a living doing something you love. I do believe that everyone deserves a chance to do what they want and not spend their life in misery.

Initially - I wanted my job so bad. SO BAD. It’s such a hard job to get and such a hard industry to get into and when I got in, well, it was definitely one of the happiest moments of my life. I thought I got myself a pretty position that was half hard core business, and half creative. But forget creative. Since being in this position, I feel like I’ve had my creative soul sucked right out of me.

And now… now I must think what I want to do! I know I’m in the right industry, but I need to find a better suiting position. Not all is lost.

I went out every. single. night. during my birthday week. I felt bad for my parents that I didn’t give them a proper chance to spoil me rotten like my friends had!

During the week we went to The Como, Raffles, had dinner at a friends place, had Cuba Libres and other funky cocktail concoctions at my favourite bar, The Hula Bula and well, I was pretty much milking the most out of my Birthday.

When I showed up to work on Friday (my actual birthday) I was greeted at work by friends showering me with goodies and fab pressies! It was the most excellent start to the day. Everyone expected I would have a huge piss-up but I had planned for ages to just have a very low-key special birthday night with my best friends.

Ever since living in New York, I realised how very rare it was to have all my friends in one city. I did have my times in New York where I just felt ALONE and would fantasise about what it would be like to have all my friends living in Manhattan and guessing where they would live based on their personality and background.

Anyway when this years birthday came up, I realised I had all my best friends in one city at the same time and it was only too easy to decide these were the people I wanted to spend my birthday with. There is my bestest best friend in the whole world, Miss S, who I have known since I was 2 years old. We have been best friends for 21 years! Then there is Miss 23 who I met at uni and has been in and out of the country and is the only person (other than my parents) to pick my drunken ass up in the early hours of the morning so I would avoid having my hormones get the best out of me, then there is of course, my best friend from London who is best known as The Photographer. He lived with me in New York and kept me company, he’s dished out the best advice and has constantly inspired me to be great.

So for my birthday dinner, it was just the four of us having dinner at Nine Fine Foods - this fantastic European Japenese restaurant in my favourite hood - Northbridge. The restaurant was warm and dark and moody. The food was artistic and the flavours to die for. The company was even better and the whole time I just kept thinking - “Remember tonight because it might be the only time I have dinner with all my best friends”. I know it sounds dramatic, but I feel like the world is tearing us in different directions. I feel at home in New York. The Photographer is at home in London. Miss 23 finds home in Perth and Miss S - well who knows where she will end up right now.

Anyway it was a memorable night because I realised how lucky I am to have such amazing friends and the night was a mix of happiness and sadness. The Photographer was leaving for London after my Birthday and I kept it together as we stood outside the restaurant and said our final goodbye for now, but as I saw him walk up Bulwer Street towards his car, Miss 23 asked if I was OK and I cried. I broke down because I was saying goodbye to a friend who has always pushed me to be great, a friend who always has a truthful answer and is oh so thoughtful. And I cried because the truth is, when we are miles away, we both find it hard to stay in touch on a regular basis. When we do meet up in this crazy world, it feels like nothing has changed between us, but in the meantime, I do miss him.

I am a terrible blogger. The past few weeks have been action packed. There’s been lots of goss and stories to tell but so very little time to divulge.

Most recently I had a week of birthday celebrations.

I kicked off celebrations a week before my birthday by having dinner and drinks at my favourite pub - The Flying Scotsman. Things started out fairly civilised and lovely, till one of my boy friends from work arrived and insisted on doing this. I swear, my hands were tied and I had to oblige! Four Jagers and plenty of beers later, well, I was a little chipper, carefree and had developed two left feet I had to deal with.

Hot Rocker showed up unexpectedly which was a wicked surprise. Chris still hasn’t spilled the beans to me that he and Hot Rocker are leaving the country and I thought my birthday night might be the time he break the news, but it’s pretty hard to break the news when he doesn’t show up! Bastard!

So of course my dreams of hooking up with Chris for old times sake on my birthday (and for THE final time before he skips the country) was shattered, but it didn’t spoil my night. The later it got, my friends started dropping like flies and by midnight there was only me and four of my boy friends including my Jager buddy. By the time we stumbled to Luxe Bar to have some Lychee Loves and Gin and Tonics, I was well and truly sloshed.

Tofer took a pill and went missing. We were quite concerned and searched Luxe and the shrubery opposite Luxe Bar fearing he had either gotton himself into a fight and landed in the gutter or mistook the leafy shrubs for his duvet. But we had no luck.

We ended our night at Englishs pad in Northbridge where he fed us olive tepenades, pumpkin dips, basil pesto, chicken and champagne pate, brie and blue cheese on melba toast at 4 in the morning.

Tofer did show up 2 days later but all he remembers was pashing some random girl and waking up in his bed.