By Kathleen Broadhurst
Heading down South with all my bags, listening to Old Crow Medicine Show and dreaming of writing fantastic novels that sweep people up and away with the beauty of this land. I’ve got a book poetry book and a gardening book and my pencils. Fiz has landed safely State side, Thank God, and is headed back to our ancestral tromping grounds at around 80mph.
I got up early this morning, folded up my bedding, kissed the cat, left money on the counter and put my bag on. I ended up leaving behind pretty much everything that wasn’t stolen. Had I known I couldn’t carry it, I would have sold it. Tent, air-mattress, bedding, comforter, pillows. I slowly lost pieces of them last night as I started packing. The comforter I tried for the hardest. I folded it up, strung rope around it, Asia-style and was prepared to carry it’s fluffy mass on board with me. It had other ideas and escaped its bonds after about 5 steps. So it too got left behind.
As part of my Australian water saving initiative I cut my hair.
Its something I’ve wanted to do for years and damn! Its looks awesome, I could have gone shorter. The response has been 100% positive. Contrary to what you would have thought you can see my hair more because it’s down all the time now instead of up in my tight-ass-librarian bun. It looks good messy. I like it.
Prospects in Melbourne look good.
I’m beyond excited to throw myself into city life. I found three shows in the next four days that I want to see and have signed up to do an Edible Weeds Walk with these awesome folk who are responsible for the amazing Permablitz movement. Urban Permaculture “hells yes”!
I have 3 roommate interviews tomorrow (at least I only need to get gussied up once.) and will be running around trying to convince people I’m awesome to live with, which I’m not totally convinced of, but I’ve come a long way since college when I specifically requested a single. Living with people doesn’t scare me anymore, sharing space has grown on me.
As for the interviews themselves, it seems like a date crossed with a job interview, you’re never sure when to tell them you smoke. Just in Job interviews you are selected on your merit, background or credentials but not just on your personality and dish-doing traits. A rejection in this case is probably a bit more personal. Thinking about it though, people should interview their dates about their dish-doing ability. It would save so much trouble further down the line if you already knew somebody was slob or a neat freak.
I’m excited, exhilarated even by my new adventure. I know it may seem selfish, or indulgent, or taboo but I’ve never felt so free, loved and supported. The train moves below me, rocking me slowly and sliding on its metal tracks I feel like I’m levitating through the Australian countryside. And you know what they say, those poets, about those roads less traveled. I hear it makes all the difference.
Heading down South with all my bags, listening to Old Crow Medicine Show and dreaming of writing fantastic novels that sweep people up and away with the beauty of this land. I’ve got a book poetry book and a gardening book and my pencils. Fiz has landed safely State side, Thank God, and is headed back to our ancestral tromping grounds at around 80mph.
I got up early this morning, folded up my bedding, kissed the cat, left money on the counter and put my bag on. I ended up leaving behind pretty much everything that wasn’t stolen. Had I known I couldn’t carry it, I would have sold it. Tent, air-mattress, bedding, comforter, pillows. I slowly lost pieces of them last night as I started packing. The comforter I tried for the hardest. I folded it up, strung rope around it, Asia-style and was prepared to carry it’s fluffy mass on board with me. It had other ideas and escaped its bonds after about 5 steps. So it too got left behind.
As part of my Australian water saving initiative I cut my hair.
Its something I’ve wanted to do for years and damn! Its looks awesome, I could have gone shorter. The response has been 100% positive. Contrary to what you would have thought you can see my hair more because it’s down all the time now instead of up in my tight-ass-librarian bun. It looks good messy. I like it.
Prospects in Melbourne look good.
I’m beyond excited to throw myself into city life. I found three shows in the next four days that I want to see and have signed up to do an Edible Weeds Walk with these awesome folk who are responsible for the amazing Permablitz movement. Urban Permaculture “hells yes”!
I have 3 roommate interviews tomorrow (at least I only need to get gussied up once.) and will be running around trying to convince people I’m awesome to live with, which I’m not totally convinced of, but I’ve come a long way since college when I specifically requested a single. Living with people doesn’t scare me anymore, sharing space has grown on me.
As for the interviews themselves, it seems like a date crossed with a job interview, you’re never sure when to tell them you smoke. Just in Job interviews you are selected on your merit, background or credentials but not just on your personality and dish-doing traits. A rejection in this case is probably a bit more personal. Thinking about it though, people should interview their dates about their dish-doing ability. It would save so much trouble further down the line if you already knew somebody was slob or a neat freak.
I’m excited, exhilarated even by my new adventure. I know it may seem selfish, or indulgent, or taboo but I’ve never felt so free, loved and supported. The train moves below me, rocking me slowly and sliding on its metal tracks I feel like I’m levitating through the Australian countryside. And you know what they say, those poets, about those roads less traveled. I hear it makes all the difference.
No comments:
Post a Comment