Category: conversations with myself

I want out. I’m over this whole training program, I’m over London, I’m over waking up each morning in that hotel bed, over catching that same over-crowded tube every morning, over this little niggly things that get to you when they build up some steam over time.

I’m over the taste of the water, which is crap. I’m over the crap food. I’m over the old buildings. I’m over the lack of good options for lunch. Over autumn in October, over talking platitudes all the time, over the grey skies and tiny streets and the sheer quaintness of it all.

I just want to get home and sleep in my bed and watch my familiar TV and play my familiar games and eat my familiar food. I’ve never missed mum’s food like I do now. I’m waiting, waiting waiting to be back home, back with the family, back with my old friends, habits ever unchanging. I want to get back to my car and drive down to the beach and jump in the water and enjoy the sun.

And yet…

Living in a different country is something I’ve always wanted to do.

And when I’m not feeling like I just want to go home and lie down, I’m loving the fact that I am here, that I have so many people around who are always willing to get out and about and have fun, that I am so centrally placed in a large city with a comprehensive transport network, that all this is basically a holiday and the last chance I’ll really get to learn new things in a classroom-esque environment (though I never feel that I could return to study). It’s like I’m bipolar about it.

And I really know that all I need is some good food from mum (and all the things that go with that) to solve the problem, dammit.

Some days you’re up, and then some days you’re down. Thursday and Friday were good days, but I woke up on Saturday morning with my throat hurting and a distinct sense of crap running through my head; Sunday morning bore it out and it appeared that a full-fledged cold had struck.

Now I’m not blaming anyone – it was my own damn fault for forgetting so readily how cold Melbourne actually is at this time of year, and not packing appropriately. But come work this morning, all that postiveness and relaxation I’d aimed for, and even partially achieved, were totally wiped out, negating completely the value of taking a few days off. All I want to do now is take some more days off.

I did however carry away some valuable conversations, and some insights, however brief, into life, the universe, etc. It’s those things that you reflect on later as showing your signs of maturity approaching, of growth on an emotional level instead of merely phsyical. Occasionally, because of all the wonderful people that surround me, I feel wise beyond my years, and I don’t think I thank people enough for sharing their world with me.

It is perhaps appropriate that Monash University’s emblem has the words “Ancora Imparo” on it, because it really does apply, even beyond university – “I am still learning.”

It’s funny how, with some people, you can start again right in the middle of a conversation. Once you get the pleasantaries over, it’s back to being right there, where you were in when you left. The intervening time adds nothing but new experiences to discuss, or new perspectives on old prejudices. You nearly forget that there’s been time in between.

And yet with others, it takes an effort. An effort to connect again on the level you’d strived to reach before. You know these are friends, and there’s a reason why you’re making that effort to connect again, but none the less an effort you have to make.

You invariably want more friends of the first type, but you know they’re a rare breed, people you’ll only find a few times in a life time, people you need to cherish, your soul-mates in the sense of friends. But the other type, you need them too. They fill the gaps between the soul-friends, they provide that safety net, in a sense. Even if you have to make the effort, the payoff is there.

The terrible analogy you’ve just come up with is that the first type are like DVDs – you can get right to where you were fairly quickly – while the second type are like old VHS tapes – lots of scanning and effort to find the right place.

You think you’ll end it on this note, and grab some sleep. Tomorrow’s right back to that grindstone.

The old scepter rises again. You’ve had your patience tested and emptied before, but over time it builds up again, and you, in your forgiving nature, forget that it happened before. It’s the easiest way to live – in the moment rather than the past – but it does catch you unawares at times, like now. Easy to let things slip and make the same mistakes again. “Only a fool does the same thing twice and expects a different outcome”, the pertinent saying goes.

You don’t want to deal with it today, not right now. You’ve got work and that should keep you busy enough. But you know it’ll be on your mind all day, unless you force yourself to banish it. But not completely – remember the lesson, and hold it close to your chest this time. The sense of betrayal, of being used & discarded, is too great to suffer again.

It’s a fucking grey day. Wait for that blue sky.

Random observations that have stacked up:

• I am really freaking unfit – okay, I know this in the vague sense already, but it hasn’t gotten better really. I played basketball on Sunday with a friend from school (Alan), and I was totally puffed within an hour. I used to be better than this. I need to lift my game.
• There are a lot more Japanese in Sydney – I didn’t feel this 6 years ago when I lived here, but just wandering down the street in Sydney, chances are I’ll hear a word which catches my ear, and I’ll turn to see Japanese people just chatting away. It’s not just tourists, either.
• Things go far better in my head – Approaching some of the aforementioned Japanese, in my head, is easy. Actually doing it on the other hand, not so easy. First I’m nervous to the point where my heartbeat rises noticeably – and it’s totally irrational – and when I do start to speak, I falter over words and phrases that should cause me no problems, caused me no problems earlier, and I’ve just rehearsed in my head. Either I’m so far out of practise I’ve lost confidence in myself, or … well, either way, at the moment it looks like I’ve lost that confidence in my Japanese that would let me speak it without feeling embarrased at my mistakes. It’s not just speaking Japanese, but that’s just something that has highlighted it for me.
• Uni is far more of a comfort zone than you imagine – All that bitching you do about assignments not being specific enough? Yeah, welcome to the real world, where your manager kind of waves in your direction and says “Yeah you can take care of that, right?” and you realise you tuned out of the meeting roughly 5 minutes ago and have been staring out the window at the sun reflecting off the building next door. Uni rocks, dude.
• Critical skill for working in the city: Judging revolving doors – I’m getting better, but the first couple of days I opted for the disabled bog-standard-door option. Why is it that city buildings must have a revolving door out front? If anyone can answer with something that makes sense, that’s a chocolate bar for ya. Which reminds me…
• I’d near-instantly fall for a chick that isn’t so neurotic she can’t eat a chocolate bar – I thought this on the train as I saw a chick sitting opposite me – above average, but nothing exceptional – bite into a chocolate bar on the way in to whatever in the morning. I knew instantly she’d have a great personality. Not neurotic! Perfect.
• Bulleted lists make things look worthwhile – as compared to say just blathering and ranting in no particular order, this now looks like there’s something by way of structure to it. Even if there’s really not.
• Can’t think of any more observations that have a real point – but I have plenty of things to say if someone turns up for a coffee and is willing to listen. Living alone makes it hard to spill out those random things you think of, but have no one to say to.

With some people, you give and give, and it never really shows. The return on investment, as it were, just isn’t there, and you end up feeling just a little abused.

With other people, though, you give a little, and you get it back and whole lot more in return, unasked for. Those people make it worth the effort, and you hope that the concept of karma works for them, because if it doesn’t work for them, then who else will it work for?

Oh, and Memoirs of a Geisha is a decent movie all up. 3½ stars or so, as these things go.

Yes this is another one of those reflective posts. I’m going to be doing them all week, so get used to it.

… something on the net catches your eye; something someone out there has written. Someone you may know, or someone you may not. You stop, and you read it over again, just to check that your eyes didn’t just make it up. You return to it the next day to make sure it wasn’t just a day dream. You see a comment link, but even if you do put some text in that box, you don’t hit send, you don’t “post comment”. You want to savour it and cherish it and want to reach out to that person and say “I know what you are thinking; I know what you mean; it’s like you read my mind.” but you can’t put it in words sufficient to express the depth of that poignant emotion, and you sit back, and the day is changed, maybe even the week.

but you hope that somehow, somewhere out there, someone else knows how you feel, in a never ending chain of human emotion and metaphysical connections.