and i try to make this kind and clear

this is not to say in the final throes of australia, my life is coming together. but just that finally--finally!--in the eleventh hour, it's softened around the edges for real, not just all those pretend times in the past that ended up as eyes in storms. everything's not perfect--i wouldn't know what to do with perfect, except hold my breath in hopes of it not toppling over before i got a picture--but i think this is just what it's going to be. you eventually finally learn to accept reality for what it is.

i spent so much time in australia thinking, "if i just get a job or start traveling or go see this play or go to that class or meet those people, all of this is just going to come together!" and i don't think it's that nothing came together, but i had no idea what i meant. i think sometimes i was hoping that all of these very different ingredients would create the same life i left in new york, or would create some fantasy life that just wasn't possible. why not? i don't know, because it wasn't meant to be. because i wasn't meant to stay here.

i always said, "i'm supposed to come to australia for some reason." god, i know, if i get into one more discussion of "why am i here?" you're going to throttle me, but i guess i just want to say that i still believe that. i've been here six months, and they were exhausting. i think it was just a lot of me being pushed out of my comfort zone. working at jobs i knew i was better than, meeting so many new people all the time, being foreign and feeling sometimes alien, and just having no routine. i realize now, i exist so much better in a routine.

appropriate, though, that i took up bikram yoga in my six months of having no comfort zone. though it turned on me yesterday. i took a 9:30am class, because, well, i can. i knew i didn't drink enough water before the class, but i figured i'd get by and drink water during the class. it was with one of the instructors i really like (he remembers my name and points out when i do a good job; my ego soars) so i guess i was really keen on a good class. until about halfway through when, despite frequent water breaks, i was feeling intensely dehydrated, dizzy and faint. i started sitting out of more and more postures--or more, laying out, collapsed on my towel, gasping and staring up at the ceiling trying not to panic. the instructor even came over to ask if i was okay--yes, because he's in love with me. or because i looked like hell.

the ultimate goal of these classes is to not leave the room, and finally, i had to break this rule for the first time and run out. but i didn't stop there. i ran to the bathroom and just barely made it to the toilet before throwing up so much i thought my intestines were going to snake out. i'm sure the class heard me.

so i guess the instructor isn't in love with me anymore, though he did check on me again while i was sitting out in the lobby, and then we chit-chatted about it after the class. he said, "oh well, just let it go." and the point of this story is not to talk about the bikram yoga instructor who fell in love with his sweaty, nauseous student who refuses to do the class topless like all the other boys, but that last sentiment. it was all kind of symbolic really. it was six months to the day since i arrived in australia and had that first feeling of intense groundlessness, and i spent so much time trying to figure out how to deal with that feeling, and more so, make it go away.

finally, i learned to just let it go.

another symbolic end to my end in oz was finally finishing "six feet under." michael and i have been watching it since october, and due to a few breaks here and there, finally got to the end this weekend. two of his friends have also been watching and got to the same point, so we all got together for the finale, which i knew to be infamously devastating.

well, let's just say...holy shit. it was just the emotional gut-punch i needed. since i was with people, i tried to hold it together, but i kept having to walk around and lose it when no one was looking. it wasn't just a cheap "grey's anatomy" cry. i couldn't get over it. i watched it again the next day and of course, lost my shit again. i think, of course, most of that has to do with the sheer brilliance of the show, and everyone i know who's seen the last five minutes has walked away with their heart in their hands, but i think what really moved me, particularly the second time i watched it, was this feeling that everything goes on and everything ends.

and i was thinking, "what if i stayed? what would happen next, how would life progress? or what if i never left new york?" it just came down to the fact that life would go on either way. it could get better, it could get worse. i could stay here and my fantasy life would suddenly appear. i could go back to new york and feel an entirely new sense of groundlessness and exhaustion. but either way, life's just going to keep going on.

and you only live once, so don't fuck it up.

so in my final days here in australia, it's not about leaving something difficult or returning to something better. it's just a matter of, "this is all i've got to work with." and i might as well do it my way. it's going to work out however it's supposed to. and i've got to just accept that.

and just let it go.