arrest me and say yes

i woke up last night at 2:30am thinking, "well, i feel pretty well-rested now." i think that just about sums up my first day in australia.

even now, i find myself a little speechless about it all. everything, from the moment i left for the airport to now, had and continues to have a fuzzy dream-like quality. it's like watching an adaptation of your life on tv. but a very loose adaptation, with some actor (probably canadian) playing you who looks nothing like you. to be fair, though, he does a decent impression of you. but he seems to have no intuitive sense as to the way you would react to anything, so it takes a few seconds for you to understand his performance, his motive, his "why" and most definitely his "how."

it's the one question no one asked until now, and it's me asking it: how are you going to pull this off?

so this is the long way of saying i've arrived in australia, and i'm feeling a little spooked by it all. melbourne is slightly how i remember it, except i'm currently staying on the other side of town from where i was last time i was here, so the perspective's different. and as i told craig yesterday, there are no expectations of me here this time. no one is "looking" for me. it's entirely up to me this time, making a life of it all. and yes, that is why i did this--i came here to build the house, not dust the furniture. but dusting is so much easier.

i feel so incredibly far from new york, from my teary-eyed parents i parted ways with at the airport (how unaccounted for, the incredible difficulty in saying goodbye to your parents for some undefined period of time), from my friends, my job, my routine, my developing roots, the deep sense of familiarity i had for new york. it's what you aspire to as a new yorker, the ability to talk train lines and neighborhoods and rent costs with the same ease as regarding the weather. it's what you aspire to in life: easiness.

but i seem to always insist on a challenge. i don't want life without the occasional growing pains. not to validate the godawful therapist who told me i was a sadomasochist (*adjusts leather thong*), but i do like to push my boundaries. well, i like it the way someone who's right-handed likes learning how to write with their left hand. there's a bit of frustration and exhaustion involved in it all, but the pride of becoming ambidextrous pushes you through.

and yet, nothing about this last twenty-four hours has been hard. it's been terribly easy actually. between the "good luck" and "we miss you!" sentiments from people back home, to the genuinely nice people i've met already--and as i've discovered in new york, it so much about the people in your life--i feel somehow cushioned by two sides of a life. i've got plenty of money and time to find a job and a place of my own to stay. there's no pressure from any side to be doing anything other than what i'm doing right now.

i think the truth of the matter is that i can hardly digest the largeness of this all, so maybe i should just stop trying. maybe it's just one bite at a time. last night, my mind was wandering, and i felt this sudden rush and thought, "oh my god, you just moved to australia. you're here. you did it." i think i can just wade in that feeling for a while.

and maybe try to get a little more sleep.