Today I went to a pawnbroker on Unley Road to pick up a neon phone I’d bought through their eBay shop. Apparently, they sell all their goods through eBay. You could tell—because their physical setup was a little unusual. You couldn’t actually browse the shop, and I had to call them for someone to come out and help me.
But I love the phone.
From what I could see through the window, they have some beautiful things—like a vintage microscope, which I’m going to try and track down.
Below, you can see the neon phone. It’s part of my ongoing quest to collect as many vintage phones as physically possible. This one is extra special, and I have visions of an entire wall in a gallery—covered in neon phones, all lit up.
But this exhibition will be a slow one to build, because the phones are very expensive. I’ll be accumulating them gradually, piece by piece.
I think about my life and, honestly, I have a lot of missed opportunities. Education, employment, relationships, finances—so many times I find myself thinking, “If I had just done something differently, I wouldn’t be where I am today.”
But the strange thing is, I don’t tend to dwell on those regrets too much. For some reason, I seem to be wired to get up and try again. And lately, I’ve been wondering—maybe that’s where I’ve gone wrong. The idea that if you fail, you can just try again.
When I've left uni in the past people say things like, “It’s okay, you can always go back.” But then one day you look up and find yourself on the cusp of your 44th birthday—with no degree, no partner, no children, and no real financial assets.
There’s got to come a point in life when you go: “It’s literally now or never.” In just over six years, I’ll be fifty. And I don’t want to be fifty without a degree or some kind of financial stability.
I don’t even know why it’s so important for me to get a degree. It’s not like I’m just trailing behind—I feel like I’m at least 25 years older than my classmates. I know that shouldn’t bother me, but it does. I don’t like it. I think it’s because those younger students have expectations of what a 43 or 44-year-old woman should be—and I don’t meet those expectations.
I’m about to start a degree in Animation and Game Design. It’ll be my seventh attempt at university. And I’ve decided this will be my last. If I can’t get it together this time, I’ll find a job in a government call centre and live out my days there. I’ll save money and travel every couple of years—and honestly, that’s all I really want from life now. To see the world.
I also want to look after my mother and make sure she never ends up in a nursing home. And I can say—lightheartedly—that’s both for her sake and the nursing home’s. I’m not sure she’d be the best resident. But of course, they’d love her. Just like I do.
Sometimes I think I’m just waiting for something good to happen—something that will validate all the mistakes and wrong turns I’ve taken. A moment that would make it all make sense. That would make me say, “Ah. This is what it was all leading to.” I sort of believe that moment will come. I hope it does.
You might be wondering where the degree in Animation and Game Design comes from. Well, I was originally enrolled in a Bachelor of Visual Effects at UniSA—a 2.5-year degree. I’m still very interested in VFX, animation, virtual production, and 3D modelling—all of it aligns with my creative vision—but I just don’t want to go to UniSA and sit in a room full of 17-year-olds. I’ve been there before and I think I'm done with all that.
So I found an online degree that covers mostly the same content and takes about the same amount of time, especially with elective credit. Once I finish that, I can go to Flinders and do a postgraduate qualification in virtual production, which is exactly where I want to be. I wouldn’t mind going back to a campus for postgrad—but I’m never doing undergrad in person again.
What I am doing next year is an Advanced Diploma of Screen & Media at the Media Makeup Academy. It takes about 1.5 years and focuses on SFX—special effects makeup, prosthetics, prop-making. That kind of thing. I’ll do it alongside the degree.
I think having both VFX and SFX skills will be something quite special—digital and physical. I just want to make things.
But do you want to know the crazy bit?: I don’t want to work in either of these fields.
I want to use the skills I develop for my own art practice. I won’t be doing that full-time, because what I really want is to earn money so I can travel. If I have to work in the field to support myself, I will—but that’s not the dream.
The dream is to create some literally out of this world pieces of artwork.
I hold two positions within a human rights organisation, and I really enjoy working with the younger members of the teams I’m in. I’m so excited for them—having the jobs they do, starting their careers in such meaningful ways. If I were 20 years younger, I would absolutely set myself the goal of working for them. Or even of working overseas with the Red Cross or the UN.
I remember once, years ago, my mother held a big fancy party. I must have been around thirty at the time—I think I’d just come back from Sydney and Canberra. I was outside having a cigarette with this very glamorous woman, and she told me she could help me get a job at the UN. Then she looked at me and said, “You’ve got to be 19 years old?”
I was so embarrassed. I corrected her and said, “No—I’m actually 30.” She couldn’t believe it. But after that, she seemed far less inclined to help me. I know these organisations technically don’t discriminate, but in reality, they are a young person’s world.
In the human rights organisation I’m part of, I’ve only come across one woman over the age of 25. She’s a volunteer and would be over 50. She applied for a paid position recently, but didn’t get it—even though she does so much work for them. I couldn’t help but wonder whether her age had something to do with it.
The reality of my situation is that, because of my flaw, I couldn’t work overseas anymore—and, truthfully, I don’t think I’d want to. But like every other job I’ve ever dreamed about, I still find myself secretly wondering, what if?
I’ve been on the council of a society for the past three and a half years, and I resigned from my position a few months ago. I’ve still been doing the job while they look for someone to replace me, but I think they’ve now filled the position—so that’ll be it for me.
Last night, I went out to dinner with a lady from the council. We don’t know each other well at all, but she always seemed lovely, so I asked her if she wanted to catch up. We went to Café Ballaboosta, which is quite close to me.
I was really surprised when this lady—who I’ll call Violet—told me she used to be a pharmacist. I also hadn’t realised she was retired.
I don’t know why people retire.
No—that’s not right. I do understand it, if you’ve got grandkids you want to spend time with, or if you want to travel the world. But sometimes I wonder if retiring just ages you. My mum retired 20 years ago, but she’s been heavily involved in her interests and has a very active social life.
But Violet didn’t seem to have children or grandchildren. She didn’t have any big travel plans. So what do you do?
It scared the shit out of me. Because I’m not far off retirement age myself—and I haven’t worked in ten years.
I’ve always socialised with older people. I have older half-siblings in their sixties who are coincidently all estranged from my mother now because of my Dad's will. But I’ve always gotten along with older people.
Still—last night, sitting with Violet—I kind of freaked out. Because I am her. Well, I’m not her. She got a degree in pharmacy. She has a house. A car. Stability. But I’m in her age bracket. I’m hovering around retirement age. And in some circles, fifty is considered “senior.”
What the fuck am I doing with my life?
I have potential. I think I have potential. Maybe in the arts, or in writing—I don’t know. But you know how people tell young people, “You’ve got so much potential”? They used to say it to me too. No one says it anymore.
I wonder if my potential has expired.
Is it too late?
It has to be heads down, bum up, and get this degree done—like my life depends on it. Because, in so many ways, it does.
I’m going to do this SFX makeup course with passion. And I don’t mind being the oldest in this type of class. They’ll all be creative younger women, and they’ll teach me about youth culture—just like my young hairdresser does. I’ll learn from them. I’ll absorb it all.
But back to Violet. Last night was lovely—don’t get me wrong—but we sat there talking about classical music and Netflix.
And I don’t want that.
I wanted to ask her how she lost her virginity. If she did. I wanted to ask who she was having inappropriate dreams about. I wanted to share my stories with her, too.
In reality, there is no possible way that I would have ever put her in such an awkward position by asking. But the thought was there. And I wish someone would ask me how I lost my virginity in general conversation. I would love to put it into context for someone — because I didn't just lose my virginity; I lost a part of my soul too.
I don’t know what it was about last night, but I felt old.
Now, when I say “old,” I don’t mean that 43 or 44 is old. And I don’t think Violet is old either—if I had to guess, I’d say she’s in her late sixties or early seventies.
What I mean is that I felt the weight of my life. I’m nearly 44 years old and I literally have nothing. I’ve got this goal of harnessing VFX and SFX for my artwork, but I’m starting from the very beginning.
I’m just shy of six years off fifty—and that number, fifty, looms. It means I’m approaching a time where, very realistically, I might stop desiring men. I don’t want a man though. And I don’t think a man would want me. All I want—and I want it with passion—is to travel the world and to look after my mother.
They say you need a goal to really jump out of bed in the mornings. So I’m going to try and make my goals feel less overwhelming, less unreachable. I want to face the reality that they are possible.
And if they came true, it would make me the happiest woman in the world.
