Care Less

I've been holding back. A lot. For some reason I have gotten it into my head that I am supposed to be polished and not too personal with this blog. Which is completely stupid because what is a blog called Senseless Ramblings about if not weird personal details. I also know that because of my holding back, this blog has become rather boring. And then I feel bad for being boring, which makes me put off writing posts which is even more boring!

Enough is enough. When I think about what's been going on with me lately the thing that first comes to mind is employment. For a while I was doing office temp work, which I swore I wouldn't do because I'm sick of it. But hey, the money is good so why not. Then I have dreams in which I ingest a cup of slick, black oil, and then spew it back up and cry about how I'm a sellout. I may be alone here on this, but I take a lot of cues from my dreams. Do other people do this? Anyway, my sub-concious can relax because my temp contract ran out and I am currently jobless. The obvious solution would be to get a job doing something else, so I waltzed in to a couple places (literally two places - I might be a job snob) and dropped off my resume. Despite my less than positive attitude, I have a trial shift tomorrow. I think it's mostly due to my 'charming' accent and my talent for smyzing (smiling with your eyes).

And what else? Well the boy I've been 'hanging out with' (if we were in Canada I would say 'the boy I've been seeing' but things are different here, and terminology seems to matter quite a bit. Though sleeping around within friend groups not so much.) has gone away to work in the coal mines or something. No, he is not a dwarf or an old man, that's just what is done 'round these parts. I could become involved with someone else if I so chose, but frankly I can't really be bothered at the moment. I have a bad history when it comes to sexual entanglements, from one-night-stands that somehow turn into long dysfuntional relationships, to one-night-stands who turn out to have criminal records (thank you Google). Besides that, as a pen-pal has so timely brought up, it's said that Aussie guys never need a hotel room, "they can just sleep their way around because they are so attractive and emotionally detached." I am actually not sure which I prefer, a boy who instantly falls in love with me or a boy who instantly forgets about me. Either way, I seem to have found a happy medium with the miner so I'm not too concerned. As my brother has so kindly put it, with my boy-ish haircut it's amazing I've been able to attract anyone at all (it's the smyzing I tell you!!!)

As far as friends are concerned I seem to have lucked out. If I was right about anything in my Australian predictions (immediately meeting my soul mate and having passionate beach sex didn't really pan out. Unless you count being viciously attacked by sand mites. Which I do not.) it is that I greatly enjoy Aussies as people. My problem these days is not that I am lonely, but conversely that I know too many people who are always inviting me to different things (half of which I can't afford to do, but no matter, such are the trials of travelling). There is a fantastic grouping of houses (two in Perth and one down south) who call themselves the Brogarden, the Hoegarden and the Progarden. Everyone who lives in these dwellings is delightful, and through them I've met many other fun people. Then there are the friends of my Aussie/Canadia friends, who are always welcoming when we hang out. The only person I wish I was closer to is Denton, who selfishly refuses to leave Sydney. I am scheming a trip to Asia for us in a few months time however, which we will surely not survive.

So after all this, last night I was still a bit glum. Which is rather silly because here I am living in one of the most beautiful countries in the world, with heaps of friends and ample opportunity if I just get out of my comfort zone...and yet I am afraid. You'd think that getting on a plane and coming halfway around the world with no real idea of what I was doing would be the scariest part. Nope; turns out it's walking into a bar/cafe/pub and saying "hi! I'd like a job!" which terrifies me. Ridiculous? I think so too. I suppose it all boils down to my fear of rejection. Also, according to my friend Jo, I put too much pressure on myself to have a plan and know what I'm doing. There is a real freedom in just letting go and trusting that things will work out. It's why I came here, really, so I could stop stressing about all the little things. I must remember, at the end of the day, to give myself a break, to care less. A dear friend (who, also rather selfishly, refuses to leave Canada) keeps saying it takes three months living somewhere else to really change you. Time is flying and three months is coming up fast. I guess we'll see!