People who are familiar with me know that my favourite movie is Wayne's World. Saturday Night Live's classic 90's film is so great that it is the reason I live my life by saying "live in the now" and "if you're going to spew, spew into this".

Over five months ago, "living in the now" resulted in unprotected sex.

Luckily, no sexually transmitted diseases were contracted, but I did get pregnant.

At the time I was numb. Being the anxiety-fuelled creature I am (despite my refusal to seek medical help) for the first time in my life I felt nothing. I remember crying because I thought I had to and quickly made a decision to rid myself of the cells which were created in a blur of natural instincts.

This impulsive decision was shut down by the other "baby-maker" whose refusal to abort made me change my mind and shift my attitude to a can-do outlook. Days later, with my mind set to carry and raise a child, baby-daddy had changed his mind and was not seen or heard of for four long months.

Fuelled by a cocktail of hate, anger, resentment and exhaustion, I spent a month battling my choice and wishing life would stop. When you're in a slum it's near impossible to bring yourself out, add to that a roller-coaster of hormones and expectations from others, and it's nearly a recipe for disaster. Nearly.

Hours were spent scrolling through the internet reading forum after forum about girls who, like me, were alone, young, pregnant and afraid. I formed a bond with these strangers whose honesty forced me to wake up and look at this as the best thing that will ever happen to me.

The overwhelming emotions came when seeing the joy on the faces of those whom I love so dearly. My family saw this as a miracle, my friends were thrilled (and no doubt concerned) about the prospect of being designated Aunties and Uncles, and secret loves were so supportive it broke my heart.

But it was this feedback which I needed, and will forever be grateful for. It's heart shattering to know that there are people out there who don't have the amount of support I am fortunate to have.

Five months down the track, I am still pregnant, and admittedly still coming to terms with being a young single mother.

Everyday is still a battle. But the sad and scared moments are becoming less and less frequent and I'm experiencing new emotions. Being a "preppy girl" (not my words, but those of many I have encountered), you would think euphoria would be a familiar sensation. But oh no, no, no. It wasn't until a month ago when the little boy inside me started kicking that I was overwhelmed by love and euphoria - emotions I know will stick with me forever.

My maternal instincts officially kicked in when I was rushed into hospital a few weeks back to have not one, but two emergency surgeries. Aware that both me and baby were at risk, the week in hospital was the hardest week I have ever faced in my short and dramatic life. My natural instinct to protect the wee guy growing inside me turned me into an emotional and helpless wreck. For two days I lay in bed crying for someone to check on the baby who hadn't kicked in a long time. Having just experienced love for the creature sharing my body and knowing that they were in danger is something I would not wish upon anyone. Luckily bubs was, and still is, a healthy little buggar.

The decision I unknowingly made five months ago is something I will carry, raise, and love for the rest of my life. Who knows, some day I could win Mother of the Year Award and will be able to raise both my arms and son up in triumph to show that despite the shit that life throws at us everyday, it can be okay.

Valentine's Day with Facebook is a journey. It's a trip through a day in our lives where girls get:
a: Presents in the morning
b: Presents at lunch when their boyfriends remember
c. Presents after work when their boyfriend picked it up on his way home from work
d. Presents at dinner made with ketchup and fish
e. Nothing.
The Nothing girls are a mixture. Their either angry singles, people who actually don't care (unlikely), or people who are too new or old to expect something.
On the plus side. While all of this was going on I learnt that advertising Film Trailers on YouTube is great advertising. I feel like Homer Simpson spelling "smart"

Am I the only one who just doesn't know how to dance at a club?

Filled with an abundance of party vibes I ventured into the wild world of Wellington's 'clubs' a while back.

I found myself surrounded by sweaty drunk people who were shaking their limbs, grinding, spinning, and kicking. 

So what do I do? Well, like the natural klutz I am, I shook my hips and whirled my arms around and around.

Imagine a wind-farm. They're beautiful, strange looking structures. Now imagine the opposite. That was me.

I love Captain Planet.

Hi. I am a 23 year old female and I just watched an episode of Captain Planet. The 90s classic where children run around saving the world from the bad men who want world domination.

Best part is when they put their rings together and make Mr World Peace himself, Captain Planet. He would give Miss Universe a run for her money any day.

On a more serious note. The Simpsons are incredible. I grew up watching The Simpsons (seriously, I wanted to BE Bart Simpson) and never really got the jokes. My sisters laughed and so I laughed.

Is wasn't until this year when I started to re-watch everything that had become the basis of my jokes. I only just realised that Otto was always high, or snuggling did not actually mean have a cuddle, or that Itchy and Scratchy were bad-ass Tom and Jerry.

Pretty damn funny. I even have a new hobby. It's called Simpsons. I do Simpsons quizzes, draw pictures of The Simpsons, watch the Crazy Cat Lady throw cats over the roof. The list just goes on.

Rugrats was pretty cool. I read on the internet somewhere that the babies were all in Angelica's imagination. Kinda freaked me out. So I have stopped watching it.

Rocket Power. Now this is the show that made me try surfing, skateboarding, roller blading, scooter riding, and just general crazy ass hobbies. I wasn't very good at any of them, but I still felt just as cool as those Hawaiian kids and that glasses wearing white boy.

Ever watched old school Looney Tunes? You know where the roosters are wooing the hens and Porky the Pig just can't scoop those eggs fast enough? Yeah. They were pretty cool.

Have you ever wanted to be invisible? Or, more realistically, anonymous?

I wish that I had written this Blog anonymously sometimes. I wish that I could type out all of my secrets, share them with strangers, and feel good for letting some of the muck in my head out. Instead, I spread it over Facebook and scatter it with pictures of myself.

I'm sure we all have times when we want to snap our fingers and vanish from sight. Think of all the possibilities that would come with still being present, but not seen.

Would you sneak up behind people, suddenly appear and scream "BOO!" in their ears? I would. Probably to total strangers. I met a French guy in Phuket and we spent an entire morning walking the streets and jumping out at people. It was a thrill, a cheap thrill. Nobody knew us, and we knew nobody. We were completely anonymous, and completely deranged.

Would you creep around people you like? Follow them into their rooms, watch them undress and admire their vulnerability? Would you steal a kiss? A secret kiss that only you would know, and they would taste. This is every stalker's dream.

Would you follow a perfect stranger, and be them for a day? Shadow them as they go to work, buy their coffee, dine with friends, and hold themselves in bed.

Steal? Future proof yourself by walking into a bank and helping yourself to bundles of money and handfuls of change.

I would whisper strange and lovely things in thousands of ears (it would take me a while, but my goodness it would be delightful). Tell them they're beautiful, share a fact, or simply breathe some life into those who are covered in dark clouds.

Sit behind the wheel of a car, a push-bike, a tractor, and drive. Drive and be the phenomenon which would make the 6 o'clock news.

Would the impact of Paranormal Activity draw you to play similar pranks on a friend, foe, or stranger? Shake the lights, tear the curtains, and scratch Satanic signs into the wallpaper?

Would your secret desires attract you to brothels, gay bars, abandoned buildings, or hospitals? You could watch, participate, let your senses go wild and truly be you for a brief, magical moment.

Skip customs, flag the passport, sneak onto a plane and fly to a foreign country? Learn the culture and immerse yourself in it as a nobody, a fly on the wall of a foreign society.

Could limitations restrict your choices? Nobody can see you, yet your conscience still remains.

If only we all lived in the Harry Potter books. Sigh.

I don't know whether I'm funny or if I just know a lot of film quotes.

I've learnt a lot from the wide collection of films I've seen over my lifetime.

Here are a few life lessons from a sample of films you must see.

I learnt two things from watching Big as a child.

One: A giant keyboard is the business.

Two: Growing up gets you money and bitches.

Well, I don't have a giant keyboard. I don't have a lot of money, and being a straight female I'm really lacking in 'bitches'.

The Castle taught me that digging a hole and filling it with water will get you praise from your Father.

I have a Father, he has a spade, and I have an abundance of taps.

Wayne's World was wise with its teachings.

If you need to spew because you're partied out (again), a small paper cup will be sufficient.

You don't have to know all of the words to Bohemian Rhapsody to have a good time.

Giving a dog a bone is not meant to be taken literally.

Metropolis is a fantastically amazing watch.

It taught me that swinging your breasts around with nipple tassels will get men to praise you, like they should.

Stranger Than Fiction taught me to wear a watch. Always. It could save your life.

Also, freshly made cookies rule.

Now and Then shared some sensational songs which I can sing out loud if a karaoke session ever demands it.

Little Women made me want a house letterbox so I too could use it to store fresh fruit instead of letters.

Ace Ventura taught me how to park a car, like a glove.

It also taught me how to squeeze myself out of a rhino with all of my dignity intact.

Never Been Kissed shed some light on the teacher-student relationship. It is okay for your teacher to like you. But, he will be mad if he finds out you aren't a child.

Look Who's Talking taught me how babies are made. Sperm are both friendly and feisty creatures.

Saw showed me how to cut off my foot and crawl away from a messy situation.

I Love You, Man gave me a lesson on slapping the bass. I don't have a bass, but if I ever do it's getting a slap.

Most importantly, Step Brothers showed me how to make a bunk bed. Which I now have.

Winning at life.

"To me, you are perfect"

We all strive to be the most perfect versions of ourselves. In our quests for perfection we all find ourselves (or at least I do) doing the most ridiculous things so others can turn all shades of green with envy and jealousy. We put on perfume to mask our body odour, we paint our nails to hide the chips and bite marks, we style our hair to suit our facial features, and we buy beautiful clothes to hide our lumps and bumps.

I am not perfect. Nobody is. Yet I find myself admiring people who appear to ooze perfection. There are lucky souls out there who appear to wake up polished and ready to go everyday. I wake up with hair stuck to my face and mascara running down my cheeks. My mouth tastes like a giant bag of ass cakes, and I am always in desperate need of a jolly good body scrub. Luckily nobody is forced to wake up next to the horror that is me, yet.

Today over americanos and honey, my sister and I talked underwear. My sister is one of those people who must match their bra to their underwear. It freaks her out if she has a bra and only one pair of underwear to match. This perfect match is a must for her, and a lost dream for me. I like to feel beautiful. I spent hundreds of dollars in the weekend on lingerie to make my body appear Goddess like, but the Goddess inside my clothes doesn't have to match. Give me an aqua bra and a bright purple pair of underwear and I'm ready to face the world, or at least my mirror.

What I want to know is how far do we all go to be our most excellent selves? Do we spend hours in front of the mirror plucking and pruning so we can go to the supermarket and buy cakes of chocolate? Of course we do. This seems common sense, but I feel that our less than perfect selves are left in the cold, over shadowed by our fake appearances and polite courtesies.

I asked my flatmate what she did to be perfect. We got talking about make-up and why we wore it. We want to hide our blemishes, accentuate our favourite features and generally feel pretty. Boys always find it puzzling that we paint our faces. Their misconception is that we want to impress them. This is partly true. We want to find a mate and procreate, face paint might aid us in our plight to cover the world with our offspring. But for the most part we apply foundation, eye-liner, mascara and blusher so we feel comfortable and perfect. Not for others, but for ourselves. In order to be perfect to others we have to feel perfect. Make-up is one application for girls (and some boys) that help us be who we want to be.

Think to those moments when you have to meet new people. We long for them to like us, to see this wonderful person and instantly make a connection. While they are summing us up we are inherently doing the same. We are sizing up their personalities, criticising their jokes and carefully calculating the chances of seeing them again. I have spent many hours thinking of witty one liners, choosing the perfect outfit which portrays casual day wear and classy night wear, and hundreds of dollars on the right make-up to meet new people and show them who I am. Receiving this persona which I create can be taken many ways: try-hard, satisfactory, on the spot, and negative. I know I'm not alone in this. In every country and for every person this is the same.

Travelling through Thailand the beautiful women painted their faces white to appear European, while us Europeans went through great lengths to tan and look exotic. Straight haired people curl their hair, curly tops straighten theirs. We all want what we can't have, yet the wonders of modern technology and cosmetic products let us be somebody else for a fleeting moment. Fashion magazines tell us to look thin, tell us what to wear, how to be the ideal sex partner, and what we should order when out with the girls for a cocktail. We laugh at these magazines, yet we frantically save our pennies in order to subscribe to these constructed images that society demands we purchase.

Personalities is a puzzling topic for perfection. We can be fake, laugh at bad jokes, agree to arguments we blatantly disagree with, and listen to music we would never normally buy. Yet at the same time we (at least we must all hope so) still stay true to ourselves. We say what we want because what we have to say is important, witty, or quirky. We behave like idiots or grown-ups depending on who we are with and where we are. Sadly I cannot say that I have never tried to change my personality to make somebody like me. My fear of rejection forces me to mould myself into somebody who meets the requirements of a stranger. Yet my outgoing personality and willingness to over share information always tosses aside any constructed personality types so more often or not people are meeting me, not somebody else. At least that is what I like to tell myself when I go to sleep.

While taking a stroll through the city the other day a teeny-bop song came onto my iPod. I was really enjoying both myself and the song. But when I walked past a beautiful person whose attempt at perfection was executed to an art, I quickly changed the song. The person had no idea what I was listening to, who I was, nor what I was thinking. But my desire to be loved and admired is so ingrained in me that I was willing to alter who I was for a brief moment. How fantastically odd us creatures are.

Have you ever met somebody who lies about everything? There are people among us who must find their lives so mundane that in order to portray perfection they lie about meaningless details. I know somebody who told me that he had broken a limb and later that day had removed the cast himself. The little knowledge I have about bones and breaks quickly surfaced and I could not help but call him out on this lie. His desire to make his weekend more exciting than sitting on the couch watching romantic comedies was painted with a fabricated story which was nonsensical and humorous. The need to be entertaining and thrilling is common for everybody, and we all have to admit that exaggeration is not an unfamiliar friend. But there are people who need to be the best that their life is a blanket of false tales. If only we could all be stripped bare, naked, and honest. Politicians could learn a thing or two here.

Confidence and arrogance is a show. It is a mask for my fear  of exposing my honest self to people. To stand naked in front of somebody basking in all of my flawed goodness terrifies me. To ask somebody to love my far from perfect self sends me into an anxious state. Sharing my secrets with somebody I admire sends shivers down my irrational spine. Yet, the rational part of my brain knows that everybody has dark secrets, fears and flaws. I so long to say "frankly my dear, I don't give a damn" but that will never happen.

We will always aim for perfection, living in cocoons of fabrication and pleasantries.