This has been a strange week back. Today I went to St Kilda with Zander and grabbed lunch at a nice, cheap restaurant. I realized that I only have three more Wednesdays of classes, and only seven weeks here for the remainder of the semester. That really upsets me, because I've been very bad about going out and exploring new parts of the city, despite how small it is compared to Los Angeles. I realized that instead I've been going out with the same group of people, to the same bars, and drinking. Early in the semester I remember telling myself that this is exactly what I didn't want to happen, so I'm vowing to start seeing more of the city and trying new things. A SoCal kid coming from parties in college to Melbourne, where everyone mostly seems interested in partying lately finds himself questioning whether or not he's spending his time the best way possible and moreover whether he is really happy.


It's hard for me to describe where I'm at right now. This is the part of the semester where everyone seems stuck in no-man's land. I am especially bothered by it given my current situation, along with my philosophical disposition that drives me to over-think everything. For the first time I really missed home today. I missed the cheap food, the cheap spirits and beer, the friends and family that make it the home that I yearn for, my dog, and (to be honest) the life I left behind. For the first time I really am appreciating everything I was born with, things I always took for granted, and my life as a young Californian. It's not a bad place to go back to, and it's a great place to call home. It certainly isn't perfect, but no place is. Australia has also highlighted some of LA's imperfections, but even so I felt the homesickness hit me pretty hard.

At the same time I know the second I go back I'll miss it here. I'll miss the friends, the RMIT village, the times, the people that I may never see again but will always remember, the school, and all the memories I've made. I really have a great group of guy friends here. With Zander, Chris, my roommate Ben, the Englishmen and John, Mike, Damo, Sam, Alex, Nick, and all the other blokes I've always got a drinking buddy if I look hard enough and I plan on visiting many of them in the future. Alas, here I am, stuck somewhere between myself and someone else, not quite me but also nobody but me at the same time. It's like I'm chasing an apparition of myself. Each time I get close to the fleeting spirit, however, I get a little bit further away from when I was younger, more pure, less tainted by the world, and more adventuresome and boyish. I currently have no way out, no release, no sense of belonging. THIS IS NOT AN EXIT.



As for the social/love life...things are looking grim. Sometimes I just wish I was the ugliest idiot on the planet, so that women would completely avoid me and stop complicating my life. Of course, I don't really mean that and if anything I should be thankful I've had the opportunities I've had. I'm not saying I'm brilliant or beautiful, but to say that women ignore me would be a lie. I'm only 20 years old and I already feel like I've loved so much, I've shared the company and friendship and everything in between with some amazing and beautiful girls. And yet, I still have no idea what any of them want. My head is sick of thinking about how to be friends after a falling out like the one I had, my mouth is sick of all the words that will never matter, and my spirit and soul ache from constant torment from everyone else's unwillingness to let me be and give me my space. The first few days were fine and I actually enjoyed just being a guy again and holding nothing back and going out with friends. I even made new friends around RMIT. I was happy being out again, meeting new people, and letting loose. Then the chat messages came. Seriously, it had been two days and I'm already getting bothered. Sometimes you need to let a person have their space, for the sake of social grace and common courtesy after an emotional separation. Last night I realized I can't even just drink with the guys and be happy anymore-before I know it someone's friend is talking to me, trying to convince me to feel a certain way or do a certain thing. I spent the better part of the night being questioned and quizzed until my head was full of all the thoughts I wanted to suppress and wanted to let time take the edge off of. It makes me wish I could drive back through time, into the sunset of what once was when I first got here when everything and everyone was new and I could drink and be merry and meet new friends in peace. If you poke at and irritate an already upset person, throw in being drunk to the point of blacking out, they will inevitably lash out. The worst part is these are things I regret and while I wish I could just detach, stop caring, and move on I can't.



I think it's your fault, mom. You brought me up with so much love and taught me to love and treat women a certain way, and while I stumble through trying to do the right thing and constantly fuck things up I always want to work things out in the end, which is a quality I've noticed not everyone possesses, but you certainly have it more so even than me. You always do your best to make things right. Unfortunately things might be damaged beyond repair, but I'm doing my best and the past two and a half months haven't made my life easy. At the worst I know I can look back knowing that as much as I fucked up I tried my best to the end to keep things friendly, because if I hadn't made that effort I surely would regret not letting it go and sucking it up in the last few months to have the girl that has made me feel every emotion I've ever known by my side as a friend until the end. I'm getting a lot better at forgiving, letting go, and realizing that life is never what you could hope it would be. Maybe you have moments of perfect, glorious idealized forms of what you take for real life, but it never lasts long.

Life is all about how well you loved, how well you forgave, and how well you learned to let go.


Now if you'll excuse me I'm going to throw on a sweatshirt; step out into the cold, dark night, and embrace the irreversible spiraling chaos of this emerald dream.