Today marks 25 years of the world being blessed by my presence. The day of my birth was a momentous occasion, with almost every Australian cracking a beer, or three, to celebrate my arrival. My birth was so important, they commemorated the moment by gifting me an exclusive silver spoon and declaring the day a national holiday. Yes, they might have labelled the 26th of January as Australia Day, and claimed its roots somewhere in antiquity, but I know it’s really a celebration of my amazingness. After all, Australia wasn’t truly a great country until I came into being. And now that I have left Australia, well it’s really started to go downhill once more. Actually, that raises a good question; If I was god’s gift to Australia, why did I leave?
It’s as simple as this, as much as I was doing for Australia, Australia wasn’t doing much for me. The only thing Australia had provided for me was friends, family and epic sunburn during the summer months. And as much as I appreciated two out of those three things, to quote a certain Disney character, I wanted adventure in the great wide somewhere. And although Australia has an abundance of wide open spaces for exploring, the lure of foreign lands was too strong. So, with a Disney medley playing in my head, I headed for the land of sushi and Hello Kitty for my current adventure. However, it’s still just an adventure and I’m still uncertain about my place in the world. At 25 years of age I’m having an identity crisis. So, move over midlife crisis and make way for the millennial quarter life crisis.