Twelve months ago today, I wrote out a list of things that I wanted to accomplish and sealed it in an envelope. On the back, I wrote: ‘I am going to change my life.’ Why did I choose Halloween to make my own personal statement about where I wanted my life to go? I have no idea; the action just struck me as a good idea. The most important things that I wrote down, in my opinion, were the following:

• I have the power to change things in my life.
• I am going to change the things in my life that I am not happy with.
• I will start living the life I want to live.

In the last twelve months, my life has changed in a number of ways. No matter how hard those ways seemed at the time, I believe now that they were for the best. I am physically healthy, and reasonably happy with my face, my body, my fitness. My mind is clear and sharp; I’m organised, more efficient than I was before. I’m learning to balance work and play, learning to work within a timeframe and to a deadline.

Emotionally, too, I am changed. Despite the recent months of - to put it bluntly - bullshit, I have managed to bounce back and get on top of things once again. My moods remain more or less stable, I’m finishing up the school year with good grades, and I only feel like crying all day sometimes. Definitely an improvement. And, just to put the cherry on top, I’m doing it unmedicated.

I didn’t mention it earlier (in part because I didn’t want to jinx it, and in in part because I just wasn’t blogging that often), but since early March, I’ve been off my anti-depressant medication. I’ve never been happy about being reliant on a little pill everyday. I didn’t think it made me weak, but I did feel as though it left me less in control of my life. I liked being able to live, but I wanted to do so independently.

It wasn’t explicitly stated in my Halloween wish-list, but it was there: learn to control my social phobia (which has always been a trigger for my depression) without the drugs. I’m not jumping to conclusions yet, but so far? So good. I’m not struggling to get through each day; I’m waking up with a list of things to do, an organised plan for the day and an optimism that surprises even myself.

Of course, I still have a million (okay, five) assignments to get done in an impossibly short amount of time. The difference is that this year I’m (over)confident in my ability to finish it all. I’m looking forward to next year, enjoying life as it happens and really settling into my skin, into who I am. I’m lucky, I know; some people take years longer than I have to reach this point in their lives.

I’m grateful for the last year, and hope the next is just as productive.

My life? It’s a great (if slightly nerdy) place to be.

I had Journalism this afternoon. The trip to Melbourne Central took two and a half hours. The trip home took two hours. Ouch. The pain, however, was lessened by the Connex staff who were on duty. Did I just type something positive about Connex? Unlikely, highly unusual, but… that would be a big, resounding YES.

I got on the train at 4:00pm. It left ten minutes later, and when we pulled up at Lalor station, the driver made an announcement: “There has been a lightning strike at Clifton Hill station, and we’re expecting some delays. This train may be terminating at Bell station, where replacement bus services are being provided, but we’re hoping to push it through. Please make yourself comfortable.”

And then the all-important addendum: “We apologise for any inconvenience.”

Great, I thought to myself. Connex handles bus services more poorly than trains, if that’s even possible. The canned ‘update’ wasn’t promising, either. I figured I’d spend about three hours on the train, with maybe one or two announcements, and I’d miss my class entirely. I considered getting off the train and going home, but then the train pulled into Keon Park station (finally), and the driver made another announcement.

Less canned, more information. The signals were out, that’s why it was taking so long. Clifton Hill is where two train lines merge into one, and without signals it was a dangerous area. He thanked us for being patient, again. Warned us that we may as well get comfortable, since it was going to be a while. I stuck around. By the time we were at Reservoir, it was 4.45pm and I should have been at Flinders Street station.

Wonderful. The rest of the trip was a long, slow crawl. At Rushall, the driver stopped and said, over the loudspeaker: “If you’re a smoker, feel free to get off the train and have a cigarette - we’re going to be here for a while.” The smokers took his advice, and the train felt lighter, somehow. We weren’t being kept in the dark this time, we were being informed. It made a big difference.

We reached Clifton Hill, finally, at 5:20pm. They had the crossing blocked off with cop cars, news crews filming everything, and people in uniforms running around, trying to look official. Chaos, basically, as the cops tried to keep all of the traffic moving through safely. Just up the street from all the commotion, a kid was knelt at a garage door, spraypaint can in hand. Good old Clifton Hill.

The ride home was just as slow, since they had to stop and get written permission to move after each signal. I think the stopping and starting was particularly hard on three guys in my carriage. Two were laying on the floor, one was standing, bent over a rail. They were drunk, I think; two of them threw up, one couldn’t stop laughing, another kept groaning as if in pain. They stumbled off at Lalor.

Once again, though, the drivers kept us informed during the trip, explaining what was happening and - perhaps more importantly - why. I think it made people were more patient, and less tense. Well done, Connex: you got it right. And to the driver of the 4.11pm Flinders Street train from Epping? You were amazing. Thank you for making those two and a half hours bearable.

Total travel: Four and a half hours. The things I do for classes, seriously.

P.S - to the driver of the 6.31pm Epping train from Flinders Street: please don’t ever tell us that you’re going to try and ’sneak through’ an area without signals ‘as best as you can’. It isn’t reassuring.

According to a very reliable source - otherwise known as my site statistics - someone ended up at my blog while they were looking for help with a rather delicate issue. I believe that the exact search term was ‘feeling like I’m menustrating[sic] but nothing there‘.

Good luck, anonymous searcher. Please don’t take any advice you may have found here.

Oh, and for the person who ended up here looking for ‘foxtel heroes’? Foxtel is only showing Season ONE of Heroes, and even then they’re showing it all at once, so you have to sit up for a million hours to see it all. If you meant ‘heroes’ in the literal sense, you’re simply looking in the wrong place. Find some new heroes.

I found out this morning that it was confirmed that the body found in Croatia was that of Britt Lapthorne. I haven’t mentioned Britt on this blog, because to be honest? Over the last few months, the writing here has sounded like one big pity party. I was sick of writing it; you were all sick of hearing it.

I’m mentioning her now because her death has been confirmed, and I wanted to mark the occasion, I suppose. I wanted to mark the date, so that people know that Britt meant something to me, made an impact on my life. I have so few memories of her, but they are all wonderful.

Britt and I were cousins* on my father’s side. I distinctly remember her convincing me to sing karaoke at a relative’s birthday party when we were just tiny little girls. Later on, we wrote letters back and forth, but by the time we were thirteen, we had moved so much that it was impossible to stay in contact.

The week before Britt’s disappearance, I had started actually using my Facebook account. She was on my list of people to find and add, but I hadn’t searched for her yet. I heard the news on the radio a few days later. Mum and I knew straight away that it was her, but it wasn’t until this morning that I really faced it.

From all accounts, Britt had grown into an awesome young woman, and I wish I’d had the chance to get to know her again. I’ll always remember her as that little girl urging me to get up on stage and sing; I hope I can live as much as she did during her lifetime, and I know that Mum and I will never forget her.

* Second cousins, I think, by marriage. We never clarified; as far as we were concerned, we were just cousins.

Sarah Palin has done at least one good thing this year; she’s the reason I’m following the upcoming American presidential elections so closely. In fact, Sarah Palin is also the reason I’m becoming more interested in Australian politics. Unfortunately, Sarah Palin has a tiny problem: she’s incapable of coherent speech.

(I really like saying, ‘Sarah Palin’, for some reason.)

I think – optimistically – that she actually managed to answer two of the questions asked at the VP debate. The rest of the time, she discussed topics too early, too late or too much; not to mention constantly throwing barbs at Biden. For all that effort though, the debate may as well have been titled ‘Biden pwns Palin’.

For the first time in my life, I’m looking forward to an election. I can’t wait to see how it progresses, I’m looking forward to the result, I’m involved and active. Hell, I’m even watching interviews! But be warned, America. If McCain wins on November 4th, I don’t think I’ll still respect you in the morning.