tell me you never wanted more than this

lately, my computer has been having a lot of updates that keep requiring it to start over. about every five minutes, the message pops up letting me know that the changes are ready to be installed, but i must restart. do i want to restart now or later? a progress bar, with five minutes on the clock, creeps forward.

i keep pressing "restart later" because i don't want to stop what i'm doing and let the computer do what it needs to do for these changes, these necessary updates, to take effect.

symbolic much? you better fucking believe it's symbolic.

i've been a well-contained mess this week. short story long, this new job is offering a miserably small amount of hours and a miserable work experience. that harridan of a boss? well, there's something to be said for first impressions. i was discussing this with someone yesterday, but i do not think that, just because you work for someone, that gives them any right whatsoever to speak to you without some respect. i think it's this misconception that our bosses are allowed to yell at us because they are our bosses.

but don't get me started. i think there's a benefit to recognizing the negative, but no one wins when you swim in it. and it doesn't make for pleasant reading. or hell, pleasant living. venting is great, but wallowing is miserable. i've got higher ambitions than misery.

so i've turned to what i know and can rely on: office work. the temp agencies of melbourne, australia, have no way of preparing themselves for the ensuing tidal wave that is "me, on desperation's edge." i know i said i didn't want to end up back in an office--if i wanted to be in an office, i'd stay in new york, blah blah--but let this be one of the important lessons i've learned here in oz: hospitality & food service blow hard. just the sight of a waiter carrying three plates at once gives me a serious panic attack now. this morning, a few of us went out to brunch, and i could barely handle being waited on. i couldn't look at any of the servers, sure that i would spot a deep sadness in their eyes, like cows at the bloody slaughter.

(i don't quite know when i turned into carole from "repulsion," and it's only a matter of time before i'm crawling around on the floor in a nightgown or avoiding hands reaching from the wall to pull at my beautiful but recently unkempt blonde hair.)

and strange, that this is desperation these days. i know i like to talk about my early days in new york the way everyone talks about their early days in new york, particularly if they were challenging in some way. i romanticize the hell out of that time, because it's long over and because i grew so intensely in that period of time, but i think it's fair to say i had to keep moving partially because stopping meant letting the great bear hug of depression move in for a spiritual kill. i like to look back and think, "the universe delivered because i demanded with my entire soul."

i don't know where people find the time, or even the energy, to cry in public at these moments of strife in their lives.

anyway, i think i'm just feeling a bit on the razor's edge because--and this is something i didn't quite expect to experience here--i'm also going through a bit of "foreign exhaustion." this is typical, they tell you when you study abroad. the newness will wear off, the excitement will fade, and you'll grow obnoxiously intolerant of even the smallest difference you spot from what you know back home. i had a minor bout of this earlier in my trip, and i remember when it happened the first time i was here (and passed in maybe two days' time), but it's been pretty full-on lately. and i start to crave new york like a drug.

yesterday, i called my mom, partly because we were due a catch-up, and partly because i think some times in our lives ask for that phone call, to whoever it is knows you best. sure enough:

my mother: "hello?"

me: "hey there, it's me."

my mother: "hi. what's wrong?"

and it wasn't like she was assuming something was. it's the mere fact that all i have to do is say hello, and she knows something's up. i laughed (blinking back a tear or two) and said, "god, how do you know?" she said, "i'll call you back" so i didn't have to pay for the call. which was a nice break so i could pull it together, because one kind word at that point, and i would have absolutely crumbled. i just couldn't bear the idea of crying to my mother from the other side of the world.

it baffles me, really, that i'm so seized by this financial situation. to be honest, i have enough money right now. when i moved to new york, i did not have enough money. but i always need a cushion. being raised (loosely used term here) by my father, a man who made a living of riding by the seat of his pants, and that includes with matters of financially supporting his family, i've run like all hell to the other side of the spectrum, and for my entire life, i've been careful with spending and diligent about saving. and sometimes, pathetically cheap.

i want to say, though, in recognition of seeing the positive of this all--besides the basic point that this is a fantastic learning, growing experience, and in just a few weeks time i will be looking back and sighing and already romanticizing this moment--that without naming names, because i'm bloody awful at compliments, thank you. you've been so kind. there's a couple people that could be said to (including my mother, who thank god is not aware this blog exists), but i know what i mean here.

a little gratitude goes a long way when we think we've got nothing in our grasping, clutching hands.

sometimes, it's just what we need before life's changes can take effect.