i'm leaving for tasmania tomorrow morning, so while i have a few fun stories to tell, they're going to have to wait until i get back. y'know, because i've been updating so feverishly as it is, a few quiet days on old "boy flies into a ditch and lays there for a while" are really going to cramp people's daily reading.
i know this is very "hello, god, are you there? it's me, margaret" but is anyone still reading this? not like my self esteem is relying on an audience, because i'm still going to keep writing; if anything, it's a backlog of material when i finally write my own version of "eat, pray, love." i haven't decided on a title, but for a while, i've been toying with using the expression, "wait, i'm sorry, what?" as the title for something. "i know, right?" is also an option, because i've been accused of saying it far too often here (cue awful impression of me with brutally butchered american accent).
of course, i could just call it "boy flies south".....
brief tangent: i didn't know what i was going to call this blog until i opened up the blogger template and started typing in all the "oz"-related or "traveling to australia"-related things i could think of and seeing if the url's were available. i'd already used one of my other ideas for the last blog (which will continue to remain anonymous, thank you), and my first choice this time was "return to oz," which is also the name of the brilliantly freaky 80s sequel to "the wizard of oz," but that was already taken. i think i also considered "yellow brick road," for like two seconds. "going down under" was probably an option, though awkward to share with mixed company, and a bit too cheeky of a title for a blog that would eventually consist of many posts chronicling life crisis on top of life crisis on top of drinking problem.
anyway, i've realized now that this tangent has no point. i do wonder if i'll keep blogging when i get back to new york, and what will i call it? i've grown attached to getting undressed in front of a partially open window, so to speak.
anyway, anyway, anyway, when i get back, i'll get my cookies together and put together a more picture-heavy post of my tassie adventures (i know how murky it can be to slough through all this text, particularly when it's laced with such despair), plus another fun tale in my employment saga (which, please cross all your crossables, could be taking a turn for the amazing, but i don't want to jinx anything, so just forget i said anything), and finally, a thorough review of my day at the "mind, body, spirit" festival this weekend. i wish i had the guts to bring a camera. but i did grab fistfuls of information packets, gave my contact information out quite liberally (expecting a series of phone calls about life coaching, a 30 day detox program, and a board game that helps make your wishes come true!), and narrowly escaped an induction into a cult at their workshop in conference room b.
it was the best day of my life.
wish me well in tasmania, babies!
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
oh, sweet sorrow, let's write the book tomorrow
i know, it's been heavy lately.
sorry about that, really. sometimes i think about the blog i wrote during my last trip to australia (which i will not be linking to here, as i'm both sort of ashamed of it and find it terribly incriminating) and it was such a different experience. i've euphemistically described those five and a half months as being something of an "awakening," as in a "sexual awakening." as in i was a total whore, which i'd never even thought i'd be considered even in jest. i remember thinking i'd maybe kiss one boy and ride that high all the way home. i was not entirely inexperienced when i first arrived on these sunburnt shores in 2006. i'd had my heart broken, my virginity taken, my understanding of intimacy and of another person's ability to easily forsake that intimacy revealed to me quite unequivocally.
not that it's all about what we lose or have lost, or what scars we get out of bed with every day (or get into bed with, as is often the case when we, as it's been so eloquently put, try to fuck the pain away). but i had no idea what debauchery i would be getting into when i arrived here the first time. it was, for the most part, a lot of fun. i did, of course, get emotionally involved with a couple people, and there was some drama. i met david here, and at least for those weeks we spent together in sydney, had up until that point, attained something close to ideal. now it seems i hardly recognize those days as happening in my own life.
i had thought, coming back here the second time, that i'd be repeating my ways. or i thought it was possible. granted, i was climbing out of the great chastity belt of 2008--and really, it was so so great--and i felt like, "sure, i could be free-wheeling again in oz, but maybe this time i'll be a bit healthier about it." i think something like a week after i got here, i had already, let's just say, fucked up.
but alas, it's almost the end of november, and i've long since descended from the highs of whoredom and have, quite effortlessly, kept things monogamous.
my therapist in college once that noted, "you live at extremes, 1 or 10, no in between." i don't remember what the context was when she pointed it out, but it ended up being entirely true about something like 98% of my life. like, when it comes to relationships. when i'm single, life's a buffet and i'm stacking plates. but when i'm in a relationship, i won't even look at the restaurant, let alone what's on the menu. we could credit my father for this one--y'know, like the money thing--because of course--and those self-help books i keep flashing under my trenchcoat will back me up here--we're entirely shaped by who raised us. and being raised by a man who wouldn't know monogamy if it came up and proposed to him, i've come to view cheating in any form to be something of a criminal offense.
though let's not beat around the bush: i know what i'm better at, or maybe less afraid of. i didn't have a single "relationship" in new york, though i was rarely not seeing someone, in some capacity, until the chastity belt went on. every guy i met in new york had the shelf life of three hours to a month, i'd say. and did i actually really, genuinely like any of them? i don't remember, and that's probably a sign. i was, let's be honest, in no shape to be anyone's boyfriend in new york. i was more like an amalgamation of alanis morissette songs.
it is incredible how the recipe changes when you add "2 cups of emotional attachment" to the situation. it's like you've been baking the same cake for months and months and months, and then you add this new ingredient, and suddenly, the cake pushes its way out of the oven and it eats you. i've accepted this. i've come to settle down and say, "hey, it's okay. i'm inside a cake."
i know we're not talking about what i'm doing here anymore, but when the madness settles and i don't quite feel like i'm careening through the streets of melbourne on the edge of hysteria every day, i realize that i'm learning a lot. some days, i sigh and think, "good god, i am so tired of feeling so crazy and emotional!" but eventually i realize it's just this crash course in life. i'm learning so much about what i want out of a career, a relationship, a social circle; what i need intellectually, artistically; how incredibly important it is to stay physically healthy in order stay sane; most of all, what kind of fight i have in me.
equally, i'm learning when it's best not to fight, and to just sit. and not run.
who knows, maybe i'll even learn how to find one of those stable numbers between 1 and 10. maybe i could learn how to live at a 6 sometimes.
i could get used to a 6. i could see myself even being entirely monogamous with a 6. y'know, deleting 1 and 10's numbers from my phone, not responding to their emails. when they say, "hey, let's go do something we'll all regret on friday!" i can, "no thanks, i'm seeing 6 these days. we're going to see an art film, then go get sushi and talk about eat, pray, love. have you read it? god, it's totally my life story."
ah, now that's a cake i could get comfortable inside of.
sorry about that, really. sometimes i think about the blog i wrote during my last trip to australia (which i will not be linking to here, as i'm both sort of ashamed of it and find it terribly incriminating) and it was such a different experience. i've euphemistically described those five and a half months as being something of an "awakening," as in a "sexual awakening." as in i was a total whore, which i'd never even thought i'd be considered even in jest. i remember thinking i'd maybe kiss one boy and ride that high all the way home. i was not entirely inexperienced when i first arrived on these sunburnt shores in 2006. i'd had my heart broken, my virginity taken, my understanding of intimacy and of another person's ability to easily forsake that intimacy revealed to me quite unequivocally.
not that it's all about what we lose or have lost, or what scars we get out of bed with every day (or get into bed with, as is often the case when we, as it's been so eloquently put, try to fuck the pain away). but i had no idea what debauchery i would be getting into when i arrived here the first time. it was, for the most part, a lot of fun. i did, of course, get emotionally involved with a couple people, and there was some drama. i met david here, and at least for those weeks we spent together in sydney, had up until that point, attained something close to ideal. now it seems i hardly recognize those days as happening in my own life.
i had thought, coming back here the second time, that i'd be repeating my ways. or i thought it was possible. granted, i was climbing out of the great chastity belt of 2008--and really, it was so so great--and i felt like, "sure, i could be free-wheeling again in oz, but maybe this time i'll be a bit healthier about it." i think something like a week after i got here, i had already, let's just say, fucked up.
but alas, it's almost the end of november, and i've long since descended from the highs of whoredom and have, quite effortlessly, kept things monogamous.
my therapist in college once that noted, "you live at extremes, 1 or 10, no in between." i don't remember what the context was when she pointed it out, but it ended up being entirely true about something like 98% of my life. like, when it comes to relationships. when i'm single, life's a buffet and i'm stacking plates. but when i'm in a relationship, i won't even look at the restaurant, let alone what's on the menu. we could credit my father for this one--y'know, like the money thing--because of course--and those self-help books i keep flashing under my trenchcoat will back me up here--we're entirely shaped by who raised us. and being raised by a man who wouldn't know monogamy if it came up and proposed to him, i've come to view cheating in any form to be something of a criminal offense.
though let's not beat around the bush: i know what i'm better at, or maybe less afraid of. i didn't have a single "relationship" in new york, though i was rarely not seeing someone, in some capacity, until the chastity belt went on. every guy i met in new york had the shelf life of three hours to a month, i'd say. and did i actually really, genuinely like any of them? i don't remember, and that's probably a sign. i was, let's be honest, in no shape to be anyone's boyfriend in new york. i was more like an amalgamation of alanis morissette songs.
it is incredible how the recipe changes when you add "2 cups of emotional attachment" to the situation. it's like you've been baking the same cake for months and months and months, and then you add this new ingredient, and suddenly, the cake pushes its way out of the oven and it eats you. i've accepted this. i've come to settle down and say, "hey, it's okay. i'm inside a cake."
i know we're not talking about what i'm doing here anymore, but when the madness settles and i don't quite feel like i'm careening through the streets of melbourne on the edge of hysteria every day, i realize that i'm learning a lot. some days, i sigh and think, "good god, i am so tired of feeling so crazy and emotional!" but eventually i realize it's just this crash course in life. i'm learning so much about what i want out of a career, a relationship, a social circle; what i need intellectually, artistically; how incredibly important it is to stay physically healthy in order stay sane; most of all, what kind of fight i have in me.
equally, i'm learning when it's best not to fight, and to just sit. and not run.
who knows, maybe i'll even learn how to find one of those stable numbers between 1 and 10. maybe i could learn how to live at a 6 sometimes.
i could get used to a 6. i could see myself even being entirely monogamous with a 6. y'know, deleting 1 and 10's numbers from my phone, not responding to their emails. when they say, "hey, let's go do something we'll all regret on friday!" i can, "no thanks, i'm seeing 6 these days. we're going to see an art film, then go get sushi and talk about eat, pray, love. have you read it? god, it's totally my life story."
ah, now that's a cake i could get comfortable inside of.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
and in my mind, i still need a place to go
i'm what you might call a "flight risk" these days.
the original idea of this blog--this "boy flying south"--has become something of a "boy flying off the handle." i had said in the last post that i've been thinking beyond australia, in terms of what i need to do, but that i didn't want to commit myself to anything just yet, whether spoken or in writing. my morning pages--the great staple holding together this whole "artist's way" process i'm entering week 11 of--are like a rollercoaster of emotions and ideas, as i guess they're supposed to be, but i didn't want to act that all out here. the idea is that, for the unknown handful of people still reading along, i rope it in a little, get an editor in to clean this up a bit, and try to make a cohesive story out of what's happening here.
maybe it's my irish catholic upbringing seeping out--i never truly believed that was anything more than a joke, but alas--but i'd hate for anyone to trek along through the great peaks and valleys of my emotions, at least not to such dizzying heights and trenchant depths. i may spill most of the beans in the can here, but i'd hate for anyone to think i'm being ridiculous.
all of this to say that i've been thinking a lot about when i'm leaving australia. and as of right now, it won't be at the end of july. as you may know, i bought a one-way ticket here, thinking, "well, i don't know when i'll be back, or even if i'll be back." i had this great fantasy of falling so entirely into a life here, from day one, and becoming entirely inextricable. it was something of a dark secret i wouldn't really admit to anyone in new york, no matter how much i cared for them, how much i would miss them.
i had intentions--i had visions--of never coming back.
well, i mean, okay, not never. but never in the sense of thinking, "i live here now." never in the sense that i would not be yearning to return to so much of my old life. i say this choking down so much of my pride--and you have to understand, there is almost an embarrassment in this admission, so be gentle--but this has not come to fruition at all. there are plenty of people who, with some world-weary sigh, might say, "well, it's only been four months. i think you need to lighten up. maybe you should give yourself some time." and i don't really know what to say to that.
yes, there's some truth to that. look how long new york took to work. this has been a huge change and the adjustment will understandably take time. maybe i really do need to lighten up--it wouldn't be completely unheard of in my life that i would be beating myself up or getting down on myself. blah blah, we've gotten that out of the way. that's all just to say, "i hear you."
but i'm not really listening. to be entirely honest, i'm not even really considering. i do have a tendency to smile politely and nod and say the right thing. it's another thing i never wanted to be "good at." but alas.
you get one shot at this life. how much of it do you want to spend knowing it's not working? particularly when you have a sense of knowing how it could work. there are plenty of reasons for me to believe my life would work better in new york. i have a lot of friends in new york; despite the economy, i have a better chance of getting a good job in new york, and not making salads every day. (mea culpa, mea culpa, college degree.) i like new york. i know i didn't for a while, but i also didn't like drinking for a while, and lo and fucking behold.
yet i'm not going anytime soon. the other day, i thought i knew when i was going. i even started telling people that was when i was going. and i'm sorry. because while this could change, i don't think i'll be back that soon. if anything, it makes sense for me to stay longer and, after hopefully landing a better job than this, save up even more so that my move back to new york is even smoother and easier. i also think, despite the fact that this is "not working," that i need more time here.
to do what? well, y'know, that's been the big question, and maybe someday i'll think about answering it, and i know i thought this blog would be all about answering it, but as it stands now...i don't really fucking care what i'm doing in australia. it doesn't matter. it really doesn't. it does not matter why i am here. in fact, i'd venture to say there is no reason, no actual action or experience or "thing" that defines my reasons for being here. i know i said last time that i was just afraid to answer the question, that i actually thought i knew what i was doing here, and that answer is still true. but it actually has nothing to do with australia.
i think the reason i'm in australia is this:
sometimes, you gotta go halfway around the world to realize where home is.
i know. so simple you could put it on a bumper sticker, or make it your favorite quote on facebook. maybe i will.
but i'm not going to then hop a plane and go back to america just for that. when i left the states, i said that i wanted the cause to be greater than the sacrifice. i didn't give up everything i had in new york for some simple truism. i came here to do more than that. so i'm not leaving yet.
i'm not done with australia, but come april, i'll be home.
the original idea of this blog--this "boy flying south"--has become something of a "boy flying off the handle." i had said in the last post that i've been thinking beyond australia, in terms of what i need to do, but that i didn't want to commit myself to anything just yet, whether spoken or in writing. my morning pages--the great staple holding together this whole "artist's way" process i'm entering week 11 of--are like a rollercoaster of emotions and ideas, as i guess they're supposed to be, but i didn't want to act that all out here. the idea is that, for the unknown handful of people still reading along, i rope it in a little, get an editor in to clean this up a bit, and try to make a cohesive story out of what's happening here.
maybe it's my irish catholic upbringing seeping out--i never truly believed that was anything more than a joke, but alas--but i'd hate for anyone to trek along through the great peaks and valleys of my emotions, at least not to such dizzying heights and trenchant depths. i may spill most of the beans in the can here, but i'd hate for anyone to think i'm being ridiculous.
all of this to say that i've been thinking a lot about when i'm leaving australia. and as of right now, it won't be at the end of july. as you may know, i bought a one-way ticket here, thinking, "well, i don't know when i'll be back, or even if i'll be back." i had this great fantasy of falling so entirely into a life here, from day one, and becoming entirely inextricable. it was something of a dark secret i wouldn't really admit to anyone in new york, no matter how much i cared for them, how much i would miss them.
i had intentions--i had visions--of never coming back.
well, i mean, okay, not never. but never in the sense of thinking, "i live here now." never in the sense that i would not be yearning to return to so much of my old life. i say this choking down so much of my pride--and you have to understand, there is almost an embarrassment in this admission, so be gentle--but this has not come to fruition at all. there are plenty of people who, with some world-weary sigh, might say, "well, it's only been four months. i think you need to lighten up. maybe you should give yourself some time." and i don't really know what to say to that.
yes, there's some truth to that. look how long new york took to work. this has been a huge change and the adjustment will understandably take time. maybe i really do need to lighten up--it wouldn't be completely unheard of in my life that i would be beating myself up or getting down on myself. blah blah, we've gotten that out of the way. that's all just to say, "i hear you."
but i'm not really listening. to be entirely honest, i'm not even really considering. i do have a tendency to smile politely and nod and say the right thing. it's another thing i never wanted to be "good at." but alas.
you get one shot at this life. how much of it do you want to spend knowing it's not working? particularly when you have a sense of knowing how it could work. there are plenty of reasons for me to believe my life would work better in new york. i have a lot of friends in new york; despite the economy, i have a better chance of getting a good job in new york, and not making salads every day. (mea culpa, mea culpa, college degree.) i like new york. i know i didn't for a while, but i also didn't like drinking for a while, and lo and fucking behold.
yet i'm not going anytime soon. the other day, i thought i knew when i was going. i even started telling people that was when i was going. and i'm sorry. because while this could change, i don't think i'll be back that soon. if anything, it makes sense for me to stay longer and, after hopefully landing a better job than this, save up even more so that my move back to new york is even smoother and easier. i also think, despite the fact that this is "not working," that i need more time here.
to do what? well, y'know, that's been the big question, and maybe someday i'll think about answering it, and i know i thought this blog would be all about answering it, but as it stands now...i don't really fucking care what i'm doing in australia. it doesn't matter. it really doesn't. it does not matter why i am here. in fact, i'd venture to say there is no reason, no actual action or experience or "thing" that defines my reasons for being here. i know i said last time that i was just afraid to answer the question, that i actually thought i knew what i was doing here, and that answer is still true. but it actually has nothing to do with australia.
i think the reason i'm in australia is this:
sometimes, you gotta go halfway around the world to realize where home is.
i know. so simple you could put it on a bumper sticker, or make it your favorite quote on facebook. maybe i will.
but i'm not going to then hop a plane and go back to america just for that. when i left the states, i said that i wanted the cause to be greater than the sacrifice. i didn't give up everything i had in new york for some simple truism. i came here to do more than that. so i'm not leaving yet.
i'm not done with australia, but come april, i'll be home.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
consumed with what's to transpire
the other night, i went out with rach and a bunch of her friends from uni to celebrate finishing their degree. now vodka and i haven't been talking much lately (occasionally, she sends me a text message: "wanna meet for a drink this week?" i rarely respond) but we kissed a few times that night. she wanted more, but i did not. we're not through, it's just not a good time for dirty mistresses.
well, for me, anyway. everyone else got pretty smashed. this one guy, what you might call a "mature-age student" at 32, had finally finished after something like ten years of part-time study. and what else to do but spend the better half of the day racing to the bottom of pint after pint. i guess i would too. i'm assuming general opinion of this guy is the same whether he's drunk or sober, but particularly drunk, nobody was too excited to see him show up at the bar for another round and to take the opportunity to hit on anything with two legs, two breasts, and two of the same kind of chromosome. he was very particular in his tastes. oh, and engaged, fiance not present.
naturally, we got to chatting.
i said this not begrudgingly, because it's expected and understandable, but i've had the same conversation with almost every new person i've met here in australia. it's what happens when you're from somewhere else. you start with the basics. where are you from? how long have you been here? do you like it? have you traveled much? what are you doing here? in new york, there was the list of questions everyone asked about my going to australia in the first place. this is the new list of questions. funnily enough, both lists have the same general inquiry about what the hell i'm doing here.
and that's, of course, the one question i most definitely can not answer.
so while this guy was entirely wasted, he still managed to run through the list, and i started to go through all of my stock answers. i'm from new york, i've been here a little over three months now, sure it's been great but just a huge adjustment, i've been to sydney and cairns (cue small detour into "i was here two and a half years ago" and how i decided to come back), and what am i doing here? oh, i don't know. just working in food service, paying the bills, nothing special. traveling, maybe take some classes soon. writing. just figuring it out as i go along. (that old brown shoe.)
"wait a minute," he slurred. "you just throw 'writing' in there like its nothing. that's the most important thing you're doing here. y'know? so what are you doing here?"
i smiled. "yeah, i guess you're right. i'm here to write."
"yeah!" he said.
mind you, once he found out i was gay, he also threw his arm around my neck and asked if i wanted to kiss him (engaged, fiance not present). i think he did this twice. while i was flattered, i did not want to kiss him. he also, though a bit fumbly because of all the beer, tried to find a way to ask how melbourne is as a city to be gay in, and if i ever had any problems. the poor guy was doing his best to be interested and quite possibly concerned for my well-being, and surely now doesn't remember a second of that conversation, but i assured him i was okay.
eventually, he cut himself off the booze and decided it was time to go. this previously noted fiance was coming to pick him up. ("this is one of the things i never knew about gay relationships," he blathered to me at one point. "how do you have monotonous relationships when you're gay?....oh, i mean, monogamous. sorry, i'm confusing your relationship with mine." brilliant.) i don't think we had a proper goodbye, and he never got that kiss, but alas, i kept thinking about that conversation all weekend, and i'm here writing about it now.
insight shows up in the strangest of places. this drunk, lecherous, recent college graduate at 32 called me on my shit so quickly and so easily. he nailed it. "writing is the most important thing you're doing here." i'm, quite admittedly, not fond of the fact that i'm working in food service here. michael and i went to boost yesterday at lunch (this smoothie/juice bar in australia, for those in other parts of the world) and i said, "it could be fun to work here," and he said, "stop thinking these jobs are fun. aspire to something more, you're better than these jobs." and it didn't really register to me, i guess until the combination of both comments, that it seems in some way my focus is still a bit off here.
"the artist's way" would basically eat this admission for breakfast and ask for more, but it does come down to this: maybe i'm underestimating my reach a little.
this is, mind you, the understatement of the century for me. but it's a start. for a number of reasons, some of which will reveal themselves as i digest them more and eventually figure out what i want to commit to writing about in here, i'm thinking beyond australia these days. and trying to get a sense of what i'm doing in the near future and what direction i need to be going. not "want" or "should" or "might." it's a matter of need these days.
the "what are you doing?" question has gotten so much larger, but i wonder if perhaps the reason i haven't been able to answer it is because i've been too afraid to.
in actuality, i may sort of already know the answer.
well, for me, anyway. everyone else got pretty smashed. this one guy, what you might call a "mature-age student" at 32, had finally finished after something like ten years of part-time study. and what else to do but spend the better half of the day racing to the bottom of pint after pint. i guess i would too. i'm assuming general opinion of this guy is the same whether he's drunk or sober, but particularly drunk, nobody was too excited to see him show up at the bar for another round and to take the opportunity to hit on anything with two legs, two breasts, and two of the same kind of chromosome. he was very particular in his tastes. oh, and engaged, fiance not present.
naturally, we got to chatting.
i said this not begrudgingly, because it's expected and understandable, but i've had the same conversation with almost every new person i've met here in australia. it's what happens when you're from somewhere else. you start with the basics. where are you from? how long have you been here? do you like it? have you traveled much? what are you doing here? in new york, there was the list of questions everyone asked about my going to australia in the first place. this is the new list of questions. funnily enough, both lists have the same general inquiry about what the hell i'm doing here.
and that's, of course, the one question i most definitely can not answer.
so while this guy was entirely wasted, he still managed to run through the list, and i started to go through all of my stock answers. i'm from new york, i've been here a little over three months now, sure it's been great but just a huge adjustment, i've been to sydney and cairns (cue small detour into "i was here two and a half years ago" and how i decided to come back), and what am i doing here? oh, i don't know. just working in food service, paying the bills, nothing special. traveling, maybe take some classes soon. writing. just figuring it out as i go along. (that old brown shoe.)
"wait a minute," he slurred. "you just throw 'writing' in there like its nothing. that's the most important thing you're doing here. y'know? so what are you doing here?"
i smiled. "yeah, i guess you're right. i'm here to write."
"yeah!" he said.
mind you, once he found out i was gay, he also threw his arm around my neck and asked if i wanted to kiss him (engaged, fiance not present). i think he did this twice. while i was flattered, i did not want to kiss him. he also, though a bit fumbly because of all the beer, tried to find a way to ask how melbourne is as a city to be gay in, and if i ever had any problems. the poor guy was doing his best to be interested and quite possibly concerned for my well-being, and surely now doesn't remember a second of that conversation, but i assured him i was okay.
eventually, he cut himself off the booze and decided it was time to go. this previously noted fiance was coming to pick him up. ("this is one of the things i never knew about gay relationships," he blathered to me at one point. "how do you have monotonous relationships when you're gay?....oh, i mean, monogamous. sorry, i'm confusing your relationship with mine." brilliant.) i don't think we had a proper goodbye, and he never got that kiss, but alas, i kept thinking about that conversation all weekend, and i'm here writing about it now.
insight shows up in the strangest of places. this drunk, lecherous, recent college graduate at 32 called me on my shit so quickly and so easily. he nailed it. "writing is the most important thing you're doing here." i'm, quite admittedly, not fond of the fact that i'm working in food service here. michael and i went to boost yesterday at lunch (this smoothie/juice bar in australia, for those in other parts of the world) and i said, "it could be fun to work here," and he said, "stop thinking these jobs are fun. aspire to something more, you're better than these jobs." and it didn't really register to me, i guess until the combination of both comments, that it seems in some way my focus is still a bit off here.
"the artist's way" would basically eat this admission for breakfast and ask for more, but it does come down to this: maybe i'm underestimating my reach a little.
this is, mind you, the understatement of the century for me. but it's a start. for a number of reasons, some of which will reveal themselves as i digest them more and eventually figure out what i want to commit to writing about in here, i'm thinking beyond australia these days. and trying to get a sense of what i'm doing in the near future and what direction i need to be going. not "want" or "should" or "might." it's a matter of need these days.
the "what are you doing?" question has gotten so much larger, but i wonder if perhaps the reason i haven't been able to answer it is because i've been too afraid to.
in actuality, i may sort of already know the answer.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
i would've baby-stepped into intimate
i'd like to suggest that this starting over is a success, in the sense that life seems to be softening around the edges, much in the way that it did in new york. it's a slow process, if i remember it well, but it's like how, with grieving (and i read this in a really good book recently) you don't ever stop hurting, you just feel a little less miserable as time goes on.
i'm feeling a little less unsettled as time goes on.
so remember that salad place? sumo salad, to be exact. indeed, i am working there now. yes, according to my morning pages, and maybe even this blog, i don't remember, i swore off food service. and let it be known, i still do not like food service. but i like this job enough to keep it. i work every weekday from 7:30am to 2:00pm, and i'm busy the entire time, and the people i work with, usually, are all nice enough. my manager can be a bit of a dragon lady, but she cools off easily enough. today, her manager was in the shop helping us out, as we've been short-staffed or everyone who works at this location is all relatively new, or i don't know, we're basically half a mess, so here she was to help out. and as someone wisely noted recently, most people who work in these positions are total fucking control freaks. this woman fit that to a t. there was absolutely nothing she could not find something to make comment on or try to correct in some way. for some reason, it didn't really get to me.
i don't know, maybe it's because i know that i'm not going to eclipse in my career as being a manager of a fast food salad chain found in various shopping malls across australia. i'm good enough at my job after only one week, but let's be honest: i never want this to be something i'm 'good at.' i liked that i was good at advertising and sales, and that i'm 'good at' writing or being creative in some way more intellectually stimulating than knowing how much dressing to put on a salad. i'm just here to pay the bills, folks.
i was having a brief chat with this woman today as she asked how long i'd been in australia, and where i was from. "you're from new york, and you came to melbourne?" she asked incredulously.
i smiled. "i know, everyone says that. but it's been nice, doing something different."
she sort of laughed. "but it's not that different! the pace is a little slower, that's all."
wait, i'm sorry, what?
so it should be mentioned, plenty of other people have asked, "why would you leave new york and come here?" with some sort of...well, humility, i guess. melbourne's great, i'm not putting her down at all, but let's not be ridiculous. melbourne and new york are not the same. i wouldn't have come here in the first place if they were the same.
and so probably because this woman was already starting to get on my nerves, and because of this, albeit slowly calming, frenzy of foreign exhaust, and also because i am the only american i see for days, i'm very protective of my home country. tag onto it the whole obama thing, if you want, and the fact that coming to australia only solidified for me that new york is in fact home, and i'm basically the most territorial i've ever been.
i didn't really know what to say to her. i mean, the point of leaving new york was not to go to the outback and, i don't know, dig for root vegetables for nine months. i wasn't looking for the polar opposite. i don't even know what i was looking for anymore.
so i said, "well, i wouldn't want to be out in the country."
earlier, my boss was making some comment about how i didn't hear what she was telling me (it doesn't help that she doesn't actually seem to be addressing me when she's talking to me; she's one of those people you're perennially guessing with), and half-jokingly cried, "damn americans! they don't understand english!"
once again, a bit choked with national pride, i said, "well, it's a different english."
some other guy, somewhat understanding enough, noted, "it's because we talk so fast!"
once again, though, totally off the mark. i can understand you people just fine. and if you insult my country one more time, i'm going to drown you in a bucket of mayonnaise.
i could be a bit ridiculous these days. i talked to both jay and joe on the phone the other day, and it's not so much that their accents resonated with some sort of deep familiarity--i don't even hear accents anymore, to be honest, american or australian--but that sense of 'your own people.' one of my friends here made a point months ago of saying he wouldn't be in a long-term relationship with someone who wasn't australian, because something would be missing, some common history. when he first said it, i thought, "well, that's not fair at all." and i'm not saying, "oh yeah, i totally agree now," because i still don't, but i get it to an extent. there's something to be said for "your kind."
this is not to romanticize america or its people, or to put down australia and its respective inhabitants--i'm quite fond of and totally over any number of folks from either population--but i think wherever we go--and maybe i can only speak for myself here--we crave that sense of familiarity. we want something we can come to intimately know, be that a person, place, or thing.
except, of course, for making salads. i have no interest in intimately knowing how to make salads.
i'm feeling a little less unsettled as time goes on.
so remember that salad place? sumo salad, to be exact. indeed, i am working there now. yes, according to my morning pages, and maybe even this blog, i don't remember, i swore off food service. and let it be known, i still do not like food service. but i like this job enough to keep it. i work every weekday from 7:30am to 2:00pm, and i'm busy the entire time, and the people i work with, usually, are all nice enough. my manager can be a bit of a dragon lady, but she cools off easily enough. today, her manager was in the shop helping us out, as we've been short-staffed or everyone who works at this location is all relatively new, or i don't know, we're basically half a mess, so here she was to help out. and as someone wisely noted recently, most people who work in these positions are total fucking control freaks. this woman fit that to a t. there was absolutely nothing she could not find something to make comment on or try to correct in some way. for some reason, it didn't really get to me.
i don't know, maybe it's because i know that i'm not going to eclipse in my career as being a manager of a fast food salad chain found in various shopping malls across australia. i'm good enough at my job after only one week, but let's be honest: i never want this to be something i'm 'good at.' i liked that i was good at advertising and sales, and that i'm 'good at' writing or being creative in some way more intellectually stimulating than knowing how much dressing to put on a salad. i'm just here to pay the bills, folks.
i was having a brief chat with this woman today as she asked how long i'd been in australia, and where i was from. "you're from new york, and you came to melbourne?" she asked incredulously.
i smiled. "i know, everyone says that. but it's been nice, doing something different."
she sort of laughed. "but it's not that different! the pace is a little slower, that's all."
wait, i'm sorry, what?
so it should be mentioned, plenty of other people have asked, "why would you leave new york and come here?" with some sort of...well, humility, i guess. melbourne's great, i'm not putting her down at all, but let's not be ridiculous. melbourne and new york are not the same. i wouldn't have come here in the first place if they were the same.
and so probably because this woman was already starting to get on my nerves, and because of this, albeit slowly calming, frenzy of foreign exhaust, and also because i am the only american i see for days, i'm very protective of my home country. tag onto it the whole obama thing, if you want, and the fact that coming to australia only solidified for me that new york is in fact home, and i'm basically the most territorial i've ever been.
i didn't really know what to say to her. i mean, the point of leaving new york was not to go to the outback and, i don't know, dig for root vegetables for nine months. i wasn't looking for the polar opposite. i don't even know what i was looking for anymore.
so i said, "well, i wouldn't want to be out in the country."
earlier, my boss was making some comment about how i didn't hear what she was telling me (it doesn't help that she doesn't actually seem to be addressing me when she's talking to me; she's one of those people you're perennially guessing with), and half-jokingly cried, "damn americans! they don't understand english!"
once again, a bit choked with national pride, i said, "well, it's a different english."
some other guy, somewhat understanding enough, noted, "it's because we talk so fast!"
once again, though, totally off the mark. i can understand you people just fine. and if you insult my country one more time, i'm going to drown you in a bucket of mayonnaise.
i could be a bit ridiculous these days. i talked to both jay and joe on the phone the other day, and it's not so much that their accents resonated with some sort of deep familiarity--i don't even hear accents anymore, to be honest, american or australian--but that sense of 'your own people.' one of my friends here made a point months ago of saying he wouldn't be in a long-term relationship with someone who wasn't australian, because something would be missing, some common history. when he first said it, i thought, "well, that's not fair at all." and i'm not saying, "oh yeah, i totally agree now," because i still don't, but i get it to an extent. there's something to be said for "your kind."
this is not to romanticize america or its people, or to put down australia and its respective inhabitants--i'm quite fond of and totally over any number of folks from either population--but i think wherever we go--and maybe i can only speak for myself here--we crave that sense of familiarity. we want something we can come to intimately know, be that a person, place, or thing.
except, of course, for making salads. i have no interest in intimately knowing how to make salads.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
so i'm wearing the shoe till it fits
'sometimes, a person has to go a very long distance out of his way to come back a short distance correctly.'
- jerry, 'the zoo story'
'our life's work is to use what we have been given to wake up.'
-pema chodron
'i just have to make this list.'
-virginia, 'hysterical blindness'
-pema chodron
'i just have to make this list.'
-virginia, 'hysterical blindness'
as i said...i'm starting over. this is reminiscent of earlier this year, when i decided to start dropping baggage. i spent a fair bit of time just amassing ideas, trying to get a sense of what i was feeling or what exactly needed to be healed. finally, it struck me, the thing to do. make a list. i've recounted this all before. the hiv test, the letter to david, the letter to my father, the clarity petition, it's all here, more or less.
life's been a series of cycles lately. it seems that's all it ever is, lately, until the pattern works itself out or i finally forge on in an entirely new direction. moving to australia, apparently, was not new enough of a direction to move. and that's okay. it's gonna have to be, because as much as i (quite often) want to slip into my running sneakers and haul ass to tullamarine airport, i'm sitting here with it. i'm not running away this time.
take that, you fucking cycle.
so it's time to make a list. what is it i need to do this time? last time, the tasks were fairly tangible. this time, they're more vague, they don't come with such a set of instructions. they're something like:
1) let go
2) be grateful
3) get a job
i'm fairly unsure of what this starting over means. it means today, i applied for half as many jobs as usual, but i put in a concerted effort with each application, and didn't just spambot anything that looked halfway decent. it means when i finish writing this, i'm going to go for a jog. it means that when i walked to the supermarket earlier today, and that thing that's been nagging at me lately started singing again, i didn't shuffle along to its nasty beat. i picked up my head and looked around and thought, "i'm really grateful...i can walk. i'm really grateful...i'm healthy. i'm really...okay, i really don't want to do this, but okay...okay, i'm really grateful..." and it sort of helped.
it means when that soft tone of 'victim' starts to fill my voice, i clear my throat and speak up.
it means i'm taking the trash out, i'm doing those dishes, and i'm making the bed. these little efforts are important.
it means taking a deep breath.
it means when, as i'm writing this, i get a call from this salad place in the city i did a trial shift at, asking if i can work tomorrow at 11:30, i take it thankfully and consider it the universe throwing me a bone.
i guess that's something else i can be grateful for.
and now, of course, it's time i went on that jog. it will be tempting, as i step into those running sneakers, to just keep going and going, but i'm not disappearing. i'm not running away.
i've only just begun here.
life's been a series of cycles lately. it seems that's all it ever is, lately, until the pattern works itself out or i finally forge on in an entirely new direction. moving to australia, apparently, was not new enough of a direction to move. and that's okay. it's gonna have to be, because as much as i (quite often) want to slip into my running sneakers and haul ass to tullamarine airport, i'm sitting here with it. i'm not running away this time.
take that, you fucking cycle.
so it's time to make a list. what is it i need to do this time? last time, the tasks were fairly tangible. this time, they're more vague, they don't come with such a set of instructions. they're something like:
1) let go
2) be grateful
3) get a job
i'm fairly unsure of what this starting over means. it means today, i applied for half as many jobs as usual, but i put in a concerted effort with each application, and didn't just spambot anything that looked halfway decent. it means when i finish writing this, i'm going to go for a jog. it means that when i walked to the supermarket earlier today, and that thing that's been nagging at me lately started singing again, i didn't shuffle along to its nasty beat. i picked up my head and looked around and thought, "i'm really grateful...i can walk. i'm really grateful...i'm healthy. i'm really...okay, i really don't want to do this, but okay...okay, i'm really grateful..." and it sort of helped.
it means when that soft tone of 'victim' starts to fill my voice, i clear my throat and speak up.
it means i'm taking the trash out, i'm doing those dishes, and i'm making the bed. these little efforts are important.
it means taking a deep breath.
it means when, as i'm writing this, i get a call from this salad place in the city i did a trial shift at, asking if i can work tomorrow at 11:30, i take it thankfully and consider it the universe throwing me a bone.
i guess that's something else i can be grateful for.
and now, of course, it's time i went on that jog. it will be tempting, as i step into those running sneakers, to just keep going and going, but i'm not disappearing. i'm not running away.
i've only just begun here.
Sunday, November 2, 2008
we'll start all over and we'll start again
at the beginning of every month, like some sort of lunar cycle, something new happens or comes into my life or begins. i arrived at the beginning of august, i moved into my place the beginning of september, i began the russian roulette of employment opportunities in october, and now it's the beginning of november. i have about two more days for something else to come along and steal the spotlight, but i think i know what the new thing is.
i'm starting over.
jay would read this and think of the treacly melodramatic self-help reality show we watched in junior year together every afternoon, and it is a bit like that, except no vomiting into a bowl of pine cones, getting yelled at by a drill sergeant while i clean a dirty car, or dressing up a mannequin in the attic named miss mabel with all of my symbolic baggage. (it would take much too long to explain, and i'm essentially just beating jay to the punch by saying, "i know, i'm starting over, just like the tv show, 'starting over.'")
i have no other way to put it but to say that i'm starting over. i arrived in australia three foggy months ago, and it's been nothing of what i expected. in some ways, that's been a pleasant surprise, and i don't discredit that at all. but in other ways, it's been a pie in the face.
i say this echoing my sentiments in the last post--i would hate for anyone to think i'm not fine--but i haven't been fine. i haven't been myself these days. i don't know if it's just the money situation. i think it's been bigger than that. but i'm willing to find out. i'm not turning to my old vices to get away from the sadness--the shit i pulled a year ago to get away from my pain still amazes me--and i'm not running.
i'm sitting right here with it. i could pack my bags and book a plane ticket and make a mad dash for america--"when the going gets tough, i get going"--and what a shame, what a loss of an opportunity. and what a mistake. do i really expect i'd feel any more settled moving back in with my parents, and with the remains of my savings, rebuilding a life in new york and telling everyone who asked, "yeah, australia wasn't working for me, so i came home"? what am i going to do when things don't work out 100% in new york? where will i run to then?
so i'm starting over.
i have some sense of what that means, but i'm going to mostly just let it reveal itself to me as i go. it means forgiving these past three months. it means letting go of a lot of ideas of what i think i should be doing, or how this should be working out. it means being open to whatever fate has in store for me, even if it doesn't seem to follow the map, no matter how basic, i wrote up before i got here. it means being grateful for everything i have right now.
i think the reason things finally worked out for me in new york is because i started to be grateful for everything i had. i didn't acquire anything new. i just said, "okay." i just said, "thank you." i stopped resisting new york, hating new york, insisting it wasn't for me. i cleared away my delusions and my fears and my resentments, and i carefully removed all of the blockages that were keeping me from, at the time, leaving for australia with some peace, but actually, were keeping me from living anywhere with some peace.
something got lost in the last three months. and that's okay, because i'm finding it again. the first step is realizing you've lost it. the second step is inevitable.
you just start over.
i'm starting over.
jay would read this and think of the treacly melodramatic self-help reality show we watched in junior year together every afternoon, and it is a bit like that, except no vomiting into a bowl of pine cones, getting yelled at by a drill sergeant while i clean a dirty car, or dressing up a mannequin in the attic named miss mabel with all of my symbolic baggage. (it would take much too long to explain, and i'm essentially just beating jay to the punch by saying, "i know, i'm starting over, just like the tv show, 'starting over.'")
i have no other way to put it but to say that i'm starting over. i arrived in australia three foggy months ago, and it's been nothing of what i expected. in some ways, that's been a pleasant surprise, and i don't discredit that at all. but in other ways, it's been a pie in the face.
i say this echoing my sentiments in the last post--i would hate for anyone to think i'm not fine--but i haven't been fine. i haven't been myself these days. i don't know if it's just the money situation. i think it's been bigger than that. but i'm willing to find out. i'm not turning to my old vices to get away from the sadness--the shit i pulled a year ago to get away from my pain still amazes me--and i'm not running.
i'm sitting right here with it. i could pack my bags and book a plane ticket and make a mad dash for america--"when the going gets tough, i get going"--and what a shame, what a loss of an opportunity. and what a mistake. do i really expect i'd feel any more settled moving back in with my parents, and with the remains of my savings, rebuilding a life in new york and telling everyone who asked, "yeah, australia wasn't working for me, so i came home"? what am i going to do when things don't work out 100% in new york? where will i run to then?
so i'm starting over.
i have some sense of what that means, but i'm going to mostly just let it reveal itself to me as i go. it means forgiving these past three months. it means letting go of a lot of ideas of what i think i should be doing, or how this should be working out. it means being open to whatever fate has in store for me, even if it doesn't seem to follow the map, no matter how basic, i wrote up before i got here. it means being grateful for everything i have right now.
i think the reason things finally worked out for me in new york is because i started to be grateful for everything i had. i didn't acquire anything new. i just said, "okay." i just said, "thank you." i stopped resisting new york, hating new york, insisting it wasn't for me. i cleared away my delusions and my fears and my resentments, and i carefully removed all of the blockages that were keeping me from, at the time, leaving for australia with some peace, but actually, were keeping me from living anywhere with some peace.
something got lost in the last three months. and that's okay, because i'm finding it again. the first step is realizing you've lost it. the second step is inevitable.
you just start over.
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