The Olive Branch

Seems I'm not the only person who didn't really get 2010 rolling with a positive bang.
I'm not going to lie, I had a fantastic new year's night, but started messing things up around 7am. I have friends who forgot to stop smoking at midnight and consequently spent the afternoon chain-smoking - "smoking to our heart's content until tomorrow".

It's okay. Tomorrow, I'm leaving for the University of Otago - a move that's been pegged by myself, friends and family as the one thing that's going to make the most difference in my newly shell-shocked little piece of hell I call life. I'm moving in with a bunch of people I've not yet met, and intending to be referred to not as Miriam but as my newly selected pseudo-identity - Iris.

Yes, it all sounds a bit dramatic. And maybe it is. But I'm more determined right this moment than I've ever been in my entire life to straighten things out, do what's good, and more than anything, to "future-proof" things for myself. In light of events that recently transpired (which I am absolutely not at liberties to discuss) in Hamilton, I came to the conclusion that adopting a new name will aid in my personal disassociation from said events. So, Iris it is. Call me Iris, guys.

The olive branch? Well, it's a leaf really. I'm just a fan of olive branches (while we were in Athens, Theresa and I made our own exclusive range of olive branch jewellery, crafted from the trees in the Olympic Village. Mostly it was wreathes intended to look like those awarded to medallists), and a few years ago, on a completely unrelated note, Curtis apologised to me on my birthday for something. Ever since then, I've told people that for my 20th birthday, Curtis Thom gave me an olive branch.

So let's do it, bitches. Make 2010 our own. It's going to be good!