I haven’t had a chance to sit down and reflect on my experiences in Europe. Maybe I never will. It feels like three lifetimes ago. I know that I am different and everything else isn’t and I have to find a way to bridge the gap, or smudge it, or take comfort in it.
I landed in Sydney and went to the coast and started full time work almost instantly. I travel two hours to work five days a week and two hours home. That’s 60 hours a week dedicated to this job and a lot of money in transport. It does give me a chance to read some of the books on my growing list of 300 though. I manage to read, in between dozes, about 200 pages a day. I am on my 6th novel of the year. By the time I get home I am awake a mere hour before I retire to bed and drift into dreams in a matter of seconds. The weeks are blurring together prematurely.
I am tired and the little light that once burnt bright is starting to dim. I haven’t worked sufficient hours in a long time and such a sudden change after 200 days of travel and an uncured case of jetlag is hitting me full throttle. I start university by distance in a couple of weeks as well, to add to the load. I don’t have a weekend free until April.
Welcome to Australia, Ruby.
Is this really what life is though? Draining work day after day and a weekend of attempted relaxation or, rather, catching up on other responsibilities like paying bills and doing housework? I don’t think I have the stamina for that. I need constant change, constant challenges. Difference.
I now have a big art studio at home, thanks to the relocation of my little sister to the garage. Alas, I have no time to immerse myself in my paints and tools and wood and papers. I’ve decided to wag a big conference in the city this weekend for the comforts of my new room.
Those of you who are still reading this thing, what’s your life looking like at the moment?
Ruby Claire 