"Trust me. It's paradise."
So I go home in four days. What have these four years meant to me? I don't really know. Can I even sum it up in this tiny little journal, in one entry?
"This is where the hungry come to feed."
The way the air smells here. How the moon looks here (upside down). The way Cat White and her friend James are so bizarre and hilarious together, with the most accessible injokes ever. The way Gavin knows how to make me laugh without even trying. The way people look here (tanned English). How warm it is here, even in the winter.
"For mine is a generation that circles the globe in search of something we haven't tried before."
The way Kat says she loves everyone, all the time. Will's unique, full baritone voice. The gorgeous rolling hills in the countryside. The madness of 5 meter visibility scuba diving. The absolute lack of heat (why? Because you don't NEED it in Queensland; you just put on a sweater.). The accent, which I've come to get so used to. The way I may never see these people again. The way I may never feel this way ever again.
"So never refuse an invitation. Never resist the unfamiliar. Never fail to be polite."
And a million other things. The people I've met here, and the things that I've seen only make me want to stay. I'm left with the emotional inertia of this heart-shaped continent. The relationships are suddenly cut. Everything sounds so goddamn trite when I say we'll keep in touch. The web is no replacement for feeling these people in my arms, seeing their smiles. The people I've met here have the biggest smiles - Liz Pyke, Nadia... And now I'm going home.
"And never outstay your welcome."
I think I'm going to retire this journal when I get back to the states - either use Livejournal, which all my friends at home are on. I almost can't conceive of writing about life in America on this blog. It's like sacred, digital ground.
"Just keep your mind open, and suck in the experience."
I don't look forward to the plane ride home. Not just because it's a twenty hour flight and I hate flying for more than six hours at a time. That's almost a tertiary detail. I have plenty to keep me busy - my work on the new game I'm running, my writing, plenty of things to read. It's the time to reflect, to think, to worry, to contemplate, to cry. The time to wonder if I'm ever going to see these people again. If I'll remember them. There are still people here who are really sweet, and I wish I got to know them more. There's just not enough time, there's never enough time.
"And if it hurts, you know what? It's probably working."
This trip has been more than I ever hoped for, and better than I ever thought I would get. Four months ago, I was terrified. I would've flown home on the next jet. Now I have a path laid out in front of me. A graduation in a year. A studio in the fall after. A career? I can only hope. But it seems like Australia, my friends here, don't factor into that. And it kills me.
"You hope and you dream, but you never believe that something's going to happen for you. Not like it does in the movies. And when it actually does? You expect it to feel different. More visceral. More real."
I wrote a poem the other day. I included it in my final portfolio for my writing class. I love writing. I don't know if I could do it as a career. Maybe I could have written for the rest of my life if I hadn't discovered theatre and acting. There are still so many forks in the road.
"I was waiting for it to hit me."
Sometimes I think that this is how my entire life will be. My life is change. All I can do is CHANGE. I don't fucking LIKE change. But it teaches you the most valuable lessons. It lets you know that you're still alive. That the world is still alive.
"I still believe in paradise. At least now I know it's not some place you can look for. Because it's not where you go. It's how you feel for a moment in your life."
So my only question now is...
"If you find that moment, it lasts forever."
What's next?
So I go home in four days. What have these four years meant to me? I don't really know. Can I even sum it up in this tiny little journal, in one entry?
"This is where the hungry come to feed."
The way the air smells here. How the moon looks here (upside down). The way Cat White and her friend James are so bizarre and hilarious together, with the most accessible injokes ever. The way Gavin knows how to make me laugh without even trying. The way people look here (tanned English). How warm it is here, even in the winter.
"For mine is a generation that circles the globe in search of something we haven't tried before."
The way Kat says she loves everyone, all the time. Will's unique, full baritone voice. The gorgeous rolling hills in the countryside. The madness of 5 meter visibility scuba diving. The absolute lack of heat (why? Because you don't NEED it in Queensland; you just put on a sweater.). The accent, which I've come to get so used to. The way I may never see these people again. The way I may never feel this way ever again.
"So never refuse an invitation. Never resist the unfamiliar. Never fail to be polite."
And a million other things. The people I've met here, and the things that I've seen only make me want to stay. I'm left with the emotional inertia of this heart-shaped continent. The relationships are suddenly cut. Everything sounds so goddamn trite when I say we'll keep in touch. The web is no replacement for feeling these people in my arms, seeing their smiles. The people I've met here have the biggest smiles - Liz Pyke, Nadia... And now I'm going home.
"And never outstay your welcome."
I think I'm going to retire this journal when I get back to the states - either use Livejournal, which all my friends at home are on. I almost can't conceive of writing about life in America on this blog. It's like sacred, digital ground.
"Just keep your mind open, and suck in the experience."
I don't look forward to the plane ride home. Not just because it's a twenty hour flight and I hate flying for more than six hours at a time. That's almost a tertiary detail. I have plenty to keep me busy - my work on the new game I'm running, my writing, plenty of things to read. It's the time to reflect, to think, to worry, to contemplate, to cry. The time to wonder if I'm ever going to see these people again. If I'll remember them. There are still people here who are really sweet, and I wish I got to know them more. There's just not enough time, there's never enough time.
"And if it hurts, you know what? It's probably working."
This trip has been more than I ever hoped for, and better than I ever thought I would get. Four months ago, I was terrified. I would've flown home on the next jet. Now I have a path laid out in front of me. A graduation in a year. A studio in the fall after. A career? I can only hope. But it seems like Australia, my friends here, don't factor into that. And it kills me.
"You hope and you dream, but you never believe that something's going to happen for you. Not like it does in the movies. And when it actually does? You expect it to feel different. More visceral. More real."
I wrote a poem the other day. I included it in my final portfolio for my writing class. I love writing. I don't know if I could do it as a career. Maybe I could have written for the rest of my life if I hadn't discovered theatre and acting. There are still so many forks in the road.
"I was waiting for it to hit me."
Sometimes I think that this is how my entire life will be. My life is change. All I can do is CHANGE. I don't fucking LIKE change. But it teaches you the most valuable lessons. It lets you know that you're still alive. That the world is still alive.
"I still believe in paradise. At least now I know it's not some place you can look for. Because it's not where you go. It's how you feel for a moment in your life."
So my only question now is...
"If you find that moment, it lasts forever."
What's next?
