Things certainly didn’t turn out the way I thought they would.

If I could go back in time to 1999 and tell my 14 year old self some of the things that I take for granted these days, I’m sure he’d have a fit.

First of all, the idea of being invited to four or five parties per weekend isn’t something I expected. I think think that by 14 I was convinced I had social leprosy. The sheer amount of revelry I’ve walked into without so much as iota of effort still amazes me. I go out of my way to avoid parties and special events and yet my calendar is swamped with the bastards.

I’m not complaining, it’s an awesome lifestyle so long as I keep getting work done.

I remember being seven years old and going to a Labor party dinner with Paul Keating and the rest of the party A-list over at the Greek Club. This was around the time Indonesia invaded East Timor and anyone in Australia with a social conscience was mighty pissed at the Government for not stopping it. There was a huge student protest outside the building as we walked in. I thought it was cool until some guy (I remember him still) grabbed me and screamed at me not to listen to ‘their’ lies. I remember wanting to lash out and hit him.That was my first experience of student activism.

My latest experience was of being elected General Secretary of the most politically active student guild in recent QUT history. I am now that roaring legion that stood outside the Greek Club that evening. I am now that young man who can’t stand to see people blindly follow their parents on politics and religion.

I wonder if providence will ever let me meet that man. I wonder if he remembers me as clearly and precisely as I remember him. I wonder if he’d appreciate the narrative of my movement from seven year old to activist.

I doubt that the fourteen year old me would have expected that only ten years later I’d be preparing to marry.

I doubt that the fourteen year old me would have expected that I’d have turned to smoking cigarettes like my father.

I doubt that the fourteen year old me would have expected me to identify so heavily with atheists and pastafarians.

I doubt that the fourteen year old me would have been able to cope with a day of my life as it is now.

When did I grow up? I can’t remember it happening.

I’d like to tell the fourteen year old me that everything would work out and not to worry. The sad truth is that I can’t just yet. Too much remains unsettled. Too many shadows lurk around corners. I’m not finished being attacked yet. I’m not sure I ever will be. I’m not sure anyone ever is.