Depth of Field/Audit
Depth of Field
I’ll never forget the night sky as seen from a hilltop in the middle of fucking nowhere somewhere between Picton and Christchurch on the South Island of New Zealand, The Mainland as the locals call it but then I’ve learnt that both the North and South Islanders claim their respective lands as The Mainland. The sky was crystal and moonless. The usual, recognisable stars now lost amongst the multitude of bright pinpoints, an extra dimension of depth perceivable due to our distance from Everywhere. A completely new starscape twinkled down on me, what I thought at first to be wispy clouds smudging my view were, in fact, particularly dense clusters of far far away suns.
Whenever I consider the numbers involved with the universal scale I am left feeling totally inconsequential, like that bit in Hitchhikers, but this visual representation of the universal scale has more impact that numbers on paper. I was left numb I suppose by my complete unimportance and yet freed by it also. Whatever I do, I do for me and, good or bad, it’s of no real consequence. We stood there, craning our necks in awe until some lights appeared on the horizon.
‘Shit!’
We scampered for the van realising the lights were coming from the super slow cattle truck we’d passed halfway up the mountain pass. Panicking that we’d have to creep along behind it again, I fumbled for the keys, turned every light on and off twice, turned the radio from CD to AM to FM1 to FM2 then off, selected reverse then fifth and stalled the van before finally wheel spinning away in the dirt just ahead of the double-decker load of mooing, soon-to-be, fodder.
Audit
Am I happy? Why did I jump 12000 miles around the world? The urge was overwhelming in the end and once I’d set my plans in my head I felt that a weight had lifted. I’d go on holiday as planned, see if I could possibly get a job, ditch my current job and stay for however long I could. Or if I couldn’t get a job, ditch my current job and have a long holiday.
2007 was a crap year for me when I look back at it now, but on the surface it had the trappings of success. I’d been with my long term girlfriend for 8 years with kids possibly on the horizon, I had a good job and a decent work history on my CV, I drove a nice car, we’d recently redecorated the flat and my band had a single released by a label in Canada and got interviewed for Maximum Rock N Roll magazine. Trappings is an apt phrase here maybe.
Whenever people asked me how I was, the throw away pleasantries we all bandy around off each other for politeness sake, I struggled to lie and say I was fine. I felt like a fake; a terrible, obvious liar. My smile was maybe a little too wide, my answer too quickly returned or oddly phrased. In the end I couldn’t be bothered to even pretend I was fine. People didn’t pay attention to the response anyway. The question had more resonance inside my head than anywhere else outside that unhappy space.
That short list of my successes has its caveats and * notes as is to be expected. Lisa and I had been on the verge of breaking up for some time (maybe years when I think about it) and this state of near terminality had become the norm, the talk of babies a classic last ditch. We didn’t argue anymore, we were both just bored of the situation and unable to muster the energy to start again (again). I hated my job. Really hated it. Properly. Not just like we all do sometimes. Properly. The car skinted me every month. So I worked the job I hated and had nothing to show at the end of the month other than the car. The flat needed a lot of work and the lick of paint and new furniture covered the leaking/creaking bits but I knew they were there. I loved playing bass for Antibodies but it’s not really my thing anymore (if it ever was) and My Music would certainly go in a different direction.
And now I’m here. Started afresh. Afresh, a modern life free of all the shit that weighs you (me) down. I no longer wake up in the middle of the night panicking about paying a bill or getting the car repossessed or hearing a dripping noise and knowing it means the carpets are soaked AGAIN or (the biggie) worrying I was wasting my life with Lisa. I’m living in a beautiful country that I’ve totally fallen in love with (and there’s still 99% of it to see). I have a no stress job, which doubles as a gym workout and sunbed, where I get to travel the country, look down holes, drive wicked high tech remote controlled cameras on mini tractors and bomb around in big trucks. I have no bills or outgoings other than my living expenses and I feel great.
Therefore in answer to my question…….Yes…….however…..
Now that I’ve done the basics I need to settle into a fuller life. I need to find a place of my own. In the first instance, for reasons of cost, this will be a room rather than a flat. Having looked at a lot of websites and local papers I can easily afford to rent a room in Wellington itself although I have no idea of the quality at this point. The places I’ve been to in Wellington (for ‘been to’ read ‘woken up on the sofa with double vision in’) have been cool places that I’d be well happy to be a part of.
The other benefit of sharing is that other people are intrinsically involved. I’ve struggled a bit with meeting people out here. When Lisa and I came in 2007 we were both surprised by how chatty and open everyone was. We’d strike up conversations with dog walkers or people in bars, news agents etc but this year I’ve not had the same experience. I think it’s probably a lot easier for people to talk to a couple than a single man. For starters couples are much less likely to both be nutters whereas a single guy in a bar is nearly guaranteed. I’ve met a few people here and been out in Wellington for large nights and had a great time but I’m not really a club person (I’ve been open minded but I just don’t like dancing) and need to find likeminded types. This might mean going to gigs alone ***Shudders***.
In myself I’m much happier and I can see the mess I was in back home. Looking at some photos of me from just before I left I looked like a zombie, moribund at best. Pale, thin, massive dark rings around eyes, lank hair, no smile (or That Smile). Now the bags have receded, the skin is tanned, the hair is blonder and longer (I’m growing it), the muscles are expanding and the smile is real.
Conclusion: Half way there and enjoying the ride.
I’ll never forget the night sky as seen from a hilltop in the middle of fucking nowhere somewhere between Picton and Christchurch on the South Island of New Zealand, The Mainland as the locals call it but then I’ve learnt that both the North and South Islanders claim their respective lands as The Mainland. The sky was crystal and moonless. The usual, recognisable stars now lost amongst the multitude of bright pinpoints, an extra dimension of depth perceivable due to our distance from Everywhere. A completely new starscape twinkled down on me, what I thought at first to be wispy clouds smudging my view were, in fact, particularly dense clusters of far far away suns.
Whenever I consider the numbers involved with the universal scale I am left feeling totally inconsequential, like that bit in Hitchhikers, but this visual representation of the universal scale has more impact that numbers on paper. I was left numb I suppose by my complete unimportance and yet freed by it also. Whatever I do, I do for me and, good or bad, it’s of no real consequence. We stood there, craning our necks in awe until some lights appeared on the horizon.
‘Shit!’
We scampered for the van realising the lights were coming from the super slow cattle truck we’d passed halfway up the mountain pass. Panicking that we’d have to creep along behind it again, I fumbled for the keys, turned every light on and off twice, turned the radio from CD to AM to FM1 to FM2 then off, selected reverse then fifth and stalled the van before finally wheel spinning away in the dirt just ahead of the double-decker load of mooing, soon-to-be, fodder.
Audit
Am I happy? Why did I jump 12000 miles around the world? The urge was overwhelming in the end and once I’d set my plans in my head I felt that a weight had lifted. I’d go on holiday as planned, see if I could possibly get a job, ditch my current job and stay for however long I could. Or if I couldn’t get a job, ditch my current job and have a long holiday.
2007 was a crap year for me when I look back at it now, but on the surface it had the trappings of success. I’d been with my long term girlfriend for 8 years with kids possibly on the horizon, I had a good job and a decent work history on my CV, I drove a nice car, we’d recently redecorated the flat and my band had a single released by a label in Canada and got interviewed for Maximum Rock N Roll magazine. Trappings is an apt phrase here maybe.
Whenever people asked me how I was, the throw away pleasantries we all bandy around off each other for politeness sake, I struggled to lie and say I was fine. I felt like a fake; a terrible, obvious liar. My smile was maybe a little too wide, my answer too quickly returned or oddly phrased. In the end I couldn’t be bothered to even pretend I was fine. People didn’t pay attention to the response anyway. The question had more resonance inside my head than anywhere else outside that unhappy space.
That short list of my successes has its caveats and * notes as is to be expected. Lisa and I had been on the verge of breaking up for some time (maybe years when I think about it) and this state of near terminality had become the norm, the talk of babies a classic last ditch. We didn’t argue anymore, we were both just bored of the situation and unable to muster the energy to start again (again). I hated my job. Really hated it. Properly. Not just like we all do sometimes. Properly. The car skinted me every month. So I worked the job I hated and had nothing to show at the end of the month other than the car. The flat needed a lot of work and the lick of paint and new furniture covered the leaking/creaking bits but I knew they were there. I loved playing bass for Antibodies but it’s not really my thing anymore (if it ever was) and My Music would certainly go in a different direction.
And now I’m here. Started afresh. Afresh, a modern life free of all the shit that weighs you (me) down. I no longer wake up in the middle of the night panicking about paying a bill or getting the car repossessed or hearing a dripping noise and knowing it means the carpets are soaked AGAIN or (the biggie) worrying I was wasting my life with Lisa. I’m living in a beautiful country that I’ve totally fallen in love with (and there’s still 99% of it to see). I have a no stress job, which doubles as a gym workout and sunbed, where I get to travel the country, look down holes, drive wicked high tech remote controlled cameras on mini tractors and bomb around in big trucks. I have no bills or outgoings other than my living expenses and I feel great.
Therefore in answer to my question…….Yes…….however…..
Now that I’ve done the basics I need to settle into a fuller life. I need to find a place of my own. In the first instance, for reasons of cost, this will be a room rather than a flat. Having looked at a lot of websites and local papers I can easily afford to rent a room in Wellington itself although I have no idea of the quality at this point. The places I’ve been to in Wellington (for ‘been to’ read ‘woken up on the sofa with double vision in’) have been cool places that I’d be well happy to be a part of.
The other benefit of sharing is that other people are intrinsically involved. I’ve struggled a bit with meeting people out here. When Lisa and I came in 2007 we were both surprised by how chatty and open everyone was. We’d strike up conversations with dog walkers or people in bars, news agents etc but this year I’ve not had the same experience. I think it’s probably a lot easier for people to talk to a couple than a single man. For starters couples are much less likely to both be nutters whereas a single guy in a bar is nearly guaranteed. I’ve met a few people here and been out in Wellington for large nights and had a great time but I’m not really a club person (I’ve been open minded but I just don’t like dancing) and need to find likeminded types. This might mean going to gigs alone ***Shudders***.
In myself I’m much happier and I can see the mess I was in back home. Looking at some photos of me from just before I left I looked like a zombie, moribund at best. Pale, thin, massive dark rings around eyes, lank hair, no smile (or That Smile). Now the bags have receded, the skin is tanned, the hair is blonder and longer (I’m growing it), the muscles are expanding and the smile is real.
Conclusion: Half way there and enjoying the ride.