020110

Jan 02, 2010 18:45

So I was replying to Sharon last night after she dropped me an email AND texted me from Singapore to wish me happy new year and to email her. Telling her about Shanghai and how it felt to be back in Melbourne, and my decision to move to Shanghai, it kinda slowly hit me, maybe I'm not running from the past and history after all (though I probably can't deny it completely).

Maybe I'm running from the present, or maybe the more accurate sentiment is to keep moving. The idea that ... if I stopped, I'd have to look around me and take stock of my surroundings. And I don't think I can.

Work substitutes everything I lack: Friends, love, debauchery, fun, partnership, family. Books, the internet, movies/anime/TV/music downloads round up the rest of it. It's easy to give myself a career deadline, focus on that, and console myself with the thought that I'm moving forward.

And chatting with Stu at Vanessa's birthday drinks, he asked 'but are you really moving forward?.' And me having to be that rational objective guy, the one who has to see all sides, have to finally admit that the career focus and progression is a smoke screen, moving forward at the expense of ... because I don't know what to do with myself nor my life.

I mean, happy people who're settled into their lives, don't go around chasing a career around the world. Happy people have other shit to be happy for, usually involving partners, a house, a backyard, a dog, and fixing a leaking roof. They don't need an excuse to distract themselves from their lives.

So that's the late realisation. Not that it makes much of a difference really, there's nothing to be done for it. I could put aside the stoic-ness, mope around, embrace my inner emo and feel sorry for myself, which only creates another guilty whiplash-seriously what is there to be sorry for? I'm gonna work in a new country, new environment, new people-the rest can work itself out because this introspective shit doesn't leave me anywhere further ahead.
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