but you're still the one pool where i'd happily drown

i think maybe a year ago, if i'd found this song, it would have hit every nerve on my body. yet i'm glad i didn't find it until i'd fallen in love with new york and then left it to have an affair with australia.

and i love the title. "new york i love you but you're bringing me down," by lcd soundsystem. don't worry, jay, this isn't another music post, i know how you love to skip them, but i am entirely in love with this song, and the handful of "video tours around midtown" clips on youtube that accompany it, like this one:



it reminds me of the truth, that yes, of course, i do love new york, but like any good marriage, there are days where i don't know how we ended up together. it's not a good relationship if you wonder, "how did we ever become so unhappy in each other's company?" but it's something more entirely to know that, even if you are questioning the entire sociopolitical practice of monogamy, you're in this one together. i think that's what new york and i have together.

i miss the old girl, even if i've never been fond of her times square tourism, or the wet garbage on the subway tracks (why should i care? except that i have to stare at it when waiting for a c train to finally come), or the teeming douchebaggery of the meatpacking district or bleecker st on a friday night. it is what it is, because there's always cedar hill, unlimited mimosas at brunch, the ray's pizza on 8th, and a new issue of "time out" in the mail every wednesday. we have fights, but we never go to bed angry.

back in august, i questioned leaving my good marriage with new york for the one who that wouldn't go away, australia. and as i've started talking about coming back, hopscotching around ideas like, "why did i come to australia?" or "should i have just stayed in new york?" the resounding response from an assortment of supportive friends has been the same, essentially: i came here to find out what could happen.

for the record, despite the life crises that have met me along the way--and maybe this is a speech i should be saving for some post at the end of this chronicle, but it's christmas and it's a time to be grateful--i absolutely had to come to australia. i'm writing this play right now--would i have done this if i stayed in new york? maybe not--and there's this resounding theme of just "sitting with it." i found a lot of ways to avoid my pain in new york, and then i figured out a plan to flush out my pain. but i always had somewhere to go, something to do, some way to tend to whatever wounds.

in australia, with little to no work to distract me, not a whole lot of people to run off with, and a lot less noise to block out the silence, i finally learned how to just sit with everything. to sit in my life and do absolutely nothing about it but let it be.

in australia, i stopped running.

how can i catch up when i don't want to?

in lorrie moore's brilliant collection, "birds of america", a series of stories all about people whose lives have somehow veered off the road, she's got a story called "real estate," about a woman who, regarding the mess she's in, recognizes somehow how funny it is too. maybe i'm not remembering it correctly, i don't have the book with me and can't quote it words for word, except that for the next two and a half pages, she can't help but just laugh. i mean "ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!" over and over, until it looks less like lines of a story and more a brick wall of hysteria. maybe that's the point.

i certainly get it.

now i think i've indulged myself enough in past posts with the dire dramatics, so we're gonna try to not hunker down and sniffle and cry about this. maybe it's the yoga, but i'm not that fussed anymore. you see, for the past few weeks, i was banking on a job that, by all intents and purposes, was perfect. and i had, it seemed, a really good chance of getting it. i put all my energy towards the belief that i could get it, that it was coming my way, that the job was, essentially, mine. these would be the tried and supposedly true tricks of some of those self-help books, once they get around to ideas like "the power of positive thinking" or "the law of attraction." yes, i sort of believe in all that stuff, because it doesn't hurt not to.

i also recently read this book called "the wishing year," only because it vaguely resembled "eat, pray, love." it was, ostensibly, nonfiction chick lit, but that hasn't stopped me in the past. the short of it is this woman decides to turn to wishing and, to whatever extent, greater forces outside of herself, to draw things into her life that had, in the last few years, fallen away or never appeared, for one reason or another. for the most part, i just liked the idea of this working, i liked the possibility of it. i can't entirely shake my skepticism, but "the artist's way" had some basis in these ideas as well, so i had some experience in giving it a go anyway.

lest we forget my petition, which was answered, so i also have some experience in it working.

anyway, one of the points the author made, which sticks with me particularly now as, much of what i, let's say, "wished for," has not really come true, is that when our wishes are not granted, it is often illuminating of what we really want in life. apparently, i didn't really want this job. i hardly wanted to believe that. of course i wanted this job! i wanted the money, so i could take classes and see theatre and travel and...and...

well, so i could stay. so i could make australia "work." (put in quotes because who knows what the hell that means.)

i'd also decided that if i did not get this job, then it was a sign. i do fully believe in getting signs. maybe i'm less of a skeptic than i claim. maybe i just don't want to sound like a total kook. before you know it, i'm running away with a rogue group of crystal therapy practitioners i met at the "mind, body, spirit" festival, to play the triangle in their new age jam band, "amethyst dawn."

i guess i consider these signs to be something of a comfort. no one wants to feel totally untethered in life. that seems to be a great appeal of religion. i totally get that. it's nice to feel like someone's got the map, even if you don't.

i didn't want to show my cards too early about this, because you never know when the universe is going to throw you a bone, and i suppose there are still a few employment leads out there, but the point is, i've thrown in the towel when it comes to actively pursuing a job any better than sumo salad. if some of these other opportunities come through, fantastic. i'll gladly take them. but not for classes, not for traveling, not for much else other than saving.

my heart's not here. it hasn't been for a while. the truth of it is, it really is funny how little has gone according to plan. then again, i never had a plan. i never wanted a plan. i just wanted to figure it out as i go. i think i needed to have that untethered feeling for a while. i remember saying the very first day i got here, "no one's looking for me here. no one has any expectations. i could do anything i want." that freaked me out, and the next few months i spent learning how to live with so few borders.

so that decision i mentioned in the last post is put on slight hold till i find out what's happening with these other opportunities, but if nothing comes of them, i'm buying a plane ticket home. it means i'd be back in the states sometime in early february. this gives ivy (flatmate of dreams) a chance to find a replacement, and me a chance to do a few last things there. it gives me a chance to make peace, much in the way that i did before coming here, so i return home with as little baggage as possible.

it gives me a chance to say goodbye.

so it'll be interesting to see where we go from here. i could come back in a few days with great news, and hopes of returning to new york with a sizable financial shield against the awful job market, or i could come back with a return date and dusted hands.

i'd sigh myself to sleep if it wasn't so fucking funny...

baby, you're sailing away

my body is coated in a sweat like some sort of subhuman slime, dripping into my eyes and hitting my feet with a sort of cartoonish plop. i reach my arms up high over my head, my biceps aching, my triceps tearing, and bend down slowly, vertebrae by vertebrae, watching myself in the mirror until i have no choice but to look down and just keep breathing.

i haven't been this peaceful since some balmy new york night in july, when it seemed everything finally made sense.

ladies and gentleman, meet bikram yoga.

no, this is not something else i signed my life away to at the "mind, body, spirit" festival a few weeks ago. i've actually flirted with the idea for a few years now, romanced by the idea of all that sweating and stretching and finding zen in the third ring of hell. i remember thinking, sometime in ithaca, probably during the nate-fueled nervous breakdown of senior year, that it might be a nice christmas present. that was two years ago, about this time.

now i'm here, and while i won't deny that i was a legitimate mess after nate, i also knew that that was just practice from some greater life crisis, an assembling of tools of tricks and experiences for when it really felt like i was circling the drain.

ladies and gentleman, meet australia.

but this time, i did the yoga. i signed up for an introductory ten days of unlimited use for $19, which i could have easily just spent on a couple vodkas back when drinking seemed like a good idea. i think my ten days end sometime next week, and then i'll probably fork over (on credit, considering my current cash flow situation) another couple hundred for twenty more classes.

i need this class. i need that feeling, after ninety minutes in a room that teeters just barely on becoming unacceptably hot, pushing my body and my mind way past both their respective comfort zones (a theme, really, of my time in australia), of absolute peace, immobilizing calm. by the end of every class, i'm laying down on my towel and mat, drenched through with sweat, staring up at the ceiling, feeling somehow at peace with the heat, with my job situation, with my entire life. last night, i was laying there, thinking, "i could just stay here, and none of it would matter."

but i was really fucking thirsty, so i got up after like five minutes.

i need this kind of, well, therapy, to be honest, because somewhere in the next few days, depending on certain factors, i'm making a pretty big decision. i'm not getting into it here yet, except to say that it's time. once i know, i'll post something about it.

so a few things until then:

tassie was good. of course, i've come to realize that i hate having to tell people about my vacations. jay astutely noticed this when i went to thailand in '06, and admits he still doesn't acually know how it was, because my response was always a weary "oh god, it was fine, i don't feel like talking about it." so tassie: it was fine, the weather was nice, the scenery was pretty, the people were fun, i'm happy to be back in civilization. i know, i'd make the worst travel writer, which isn't good, because i plan on stretching the truth when i return to new york with possibly no relevant job experience since july '08 and say that i've been working on some travel writing project while in australia. (read: i wrote a blog every week about how insane i was going.)

but i promised pictures, so i'll put up a picture or two. or maybe not.

also, i will still be writing up a fine review of that "mind, body, spirit" festival at some point in the near future. i promise to limit the number of references to crying in public to a minimum, only because i didn't.

that might be all i have in me right now. i have to dash to work soon--for two hours. don't even get me started, i'm stressed about it enough as it is and i don't know if my body can handle another night in a row of yoga.

who am i kidding? i'll totally be there.

she never let on how insane it was

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!

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.

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.

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.