oh, you won't catch me around here

i've never been so excited about a job that requires me to file for three days. but i've never been paid $21 an hour to file. i guess at times like these, you forget the fact that you're college educated, you're not a shit writer, you once worked for a fairly reputable name in new york, and once you really get your shit together, you're totally going to make something of this name of yours. none of that really matters. you just try to not get too many papercuts throughout the day.

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this isn't to say i've stopped asking, "why did i come to australia?" and started asking, "why did i leave new york?" it's not really about the questions these days. it's more just this general sense of, "i had no idea it would be like this." the good and the not-good-yet.

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before i left for australia, in this blog, i said, "for all the yes and all the no of my life. i have no choice but to be incredibly grateful." it's easy to say when you're feeling like you've just conquered mt. everest, and it's important to say it when you just feel you can't keep climbing.

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i didn't exactly have any expectations of what it would be like when i got to australia. some more grown-up, "saved by the bell: the college years" version of the last time i was here, maybe? much like so much in my life, i romanticize too much.

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i should be concerned if i don't occasionally feel completely out of sorts, right? maybe it's set in, what everyone else had mentioned at some point and reminded me of in some way. i picked up my entire life and moved to the other side of the world with no plan, only some drive to try something new. i get it now. it sounds fun and exciting and adventurous on paper. i should be doing exotic things, traveling constantly, hop-scotching through this country.

but i'm (quite gratefully!) temping in offices around melbourne, living in a neighborhood so mundane it makes me yearn for the garbage-strewn sidewalks of 159th St, and spending large chunks of my day entirely paralyzed by more than the idea but the cold, hard fact that i don't know what the fuck i'm doing here.

but at least i know where i stand today.

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i keep thinking i shouldn't be writing this. but if i focus on the positive one more time, i'm going to throw up.

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but this is probably far more important to be writing about than some drunken night at a sweaty gay club where i pretend my life is a lot more wild and exciting than it's really turned out to be. believe it or not, i'm quite happy to not be drinking or sweating to britney remixes on podiums for a little while.

vodka's devastated; i barely call anymore.

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maybe it's "the artist's way." i am writing a lot more, to say nothing of the spiritual overhaul this process has done on me. maybe there's no room to be wasted and blathering false sentiments to strangers i hardly connect with on a real level, when i'm spending so much time rediscovering some other part of myself i was probably drinking away that year in new york.

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but i'd hate for anyone to think i'm not fine.

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once this nausea passes from positive thinking, i could actually list off a few really good things in my life right now.

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the truth of the matter is, though, i really am sort of grateful for these foggy, uncertain times. i seriously mean it. i'm quite exhausted from what's been a pretty constant buzz of anxiety for the past few weeks, and to be fair to anyone who's seen or talked to me, i haven't been myself. but i don't believe in the meaninglessness of it. i was doing my morning pages a little late this morning, after my interview at the temp agency, and i wrote: "the light is easier to see when the fog lifts, but the fog requires a deeper faith in it."

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something to think about while i'm filing for the next three days.