Sleeping in Paradise

It probably says a lot about me that I…would really rather prefer to get sick while on vacation that pretty much any other time.

I don’t have to call anyone. I don’t need a note signed by a doctor to prove my illness. I don’t need to deal with…anything actually.

It’s already *my* time.

So, if I choose to spend it drinking water and tea, and sleeping and attempting to eat vitamin-dense foods until I get better?

I don’t have to justify that.

If, instead of sleeping, I choose to watch some stupid movie for the five-thousandth time.

Well. I can damn well do that too.

If I’m going to get sick, I might as well do it when the only schedule I’m on is *mine*.

(Even if it is beautiful and tropical and I’m about a ten-minute walk from the beach.)




(It is also probably a very good thing for me to be on Holiday, because I don’t often hit a point when my response to the thought of *people* is just “DO. NOT. WANT. TO DEAL. WITH THAT.”. Usually it’s more like…”YAY! PEOPLE!” So, I reckon that some more sleep will do me good.)

Of Arrivals and Guitars

Every time I think I have managed to convince myself that I absolutely do not need to be traveling with a guitar…

I find myself in an airport, waiting for the sun to rise and my hotel to open so that I have somewhere to stay.

A man named Phillip was also waiting for the sun to rise.

He pointed to my guitar case and said “You play?”

So while we waited for sunrise, I learned about blues. I learned about Rock ‘n Roll, and fingerpicking. He played my guitar and I played my ukulele.

We sang House of the Rising Sun, because we both knew the lyrics to that one. (Mostly.)

Because music is it’s own language.

Because even at 4:00 in the morning, at the arrivals gate of Denpasar Airport in Bali, with two hours until sunrise, there is still space to create joy.

Under the Australian Moon

It is my last night in Australia.

In Melbourne, the moon looks like our house-cat Oscar.

Growing up, my father always showed me a bunny riding a tricycle.

Tonight I can’t find anything. Just light and dark.

I think the moon might have the only shadows that still somehow manage to cast light.

It’s beautiful.

Sometimes I wonder, about where I’ve been, and who I used to be. Life changes everyone, and I wonder if I miss the things I lost to get here.

I wonder if I even know what those things are.

I read once: “Become the person you needed most.” “Become the person who would have saved you.”

I think…I think I’m doing alright with that. Slowly, slowly, I think I’m getting better.

There are a lot of things that I’ve had to un-learn; impulses and unquestioned beliefs that don’t have any place in who I want to be.

There are many things I’ve had to learn; how to apologize, how to ask for help, how to admit I was wrong.

I am doing better with these things.

I am still learning about human interaction; how to build safe spaces, how to build relationships.
(Sometimes, I am afraid I don’t know how to make friends; that the only skill I have is collecting stories. Some days I am alright with that. Others, I am less so.)

If I were to get a tattoo, it would be a quote from Tom Dickens of Jane Austen Argument: “I may fail spectacularly, but I am a fan of spectacle.”

I am trying to find the lines of intersection between what I have always been told I should do, what I have always perceived as the nebulous mess that is “what everyone else does” and then what it is that *I* want.

Of course, this is always most difficult, because before I can go about mapping where these these things collide, I must first define what it is that I, in fact, *do* want.

Which, for me, takes a great deal of taking chances, making mistakes, and getting messy. (Thank you, Ms. Frizzle.)

Sometimes I’m afraid that the only thing I’ve ever known how to do is to run away.
Sometimes, I think that maybe that’s okay.

No one lives in a vacuum. I cannot erase all of the things I picked up without realizing it. I can’t pretend to exist in a place where the only relevant factor is what I want.

I think, right now, in this moment, the best I can do is attempt to define my own parameters for success.

It is strange, because, in a way, I feel like I am “rejoining society” when I return to the U.S.A.

I’ve been traveling, which, while not overly common in the U.S., is a common way of life to everyone else, everywhere I’ve been.

For all my talk of planning, this is the first time in a long while where I…do not have plans.

I will find a job, and a place to live, because one requires the other, so I require both.

But after that?

I’m back to throwing darts at a bucket list.

A Moment for Conflicting Desires

(Also Known As: “Here! Have a Rant About Plants That Came From Absolutely Nowhere!”)


On the one hand, I’m not done seeing the world. I want to get a job and somehow travel at the same time (see why cruise ships).

But also…

I want to just…have a *GIANT GARDEN*.

Like, a huge one, where I could actually, like, sustain myself with it?

One of my dreams in life is to just…not have a lawn but a huge bed of basil. All kinds of basil. I could go out and grab a bunch of basil and make myself fresh pesto and it would be beautiful.

And if I had a bed of basil, I might as well just have garlic and onions as well, because, for real, home-grown pesto.

I just really like growing seeds.

Not really, gardening, or trees that much, but seeds.

Because plants know exactly what they need to do. It’s kind of incredibly beautiful.

Then, one morning, you can walk out, and it’s just like…Plant. How did you get so big? Yesterday, you were non-existant. Nothing was out of the ground yesterday. So, how can you already be two inches tall today?

I think one of the most amazing things was when I was out transplanting stuff, and there was this bean plant, and I looked over and said hello to it, and it was all curled up still.

I finished transplanting stuff, and it had unfurled a leaf.

In like. One hour. Maybe two.

I don’t even know.


Plants are *cool*.

Again with the Packing.

How am I still so bad at packing?

I feel like I get rid of  at least 30% of my stuff *every time* I pack up to go somewhere new, so how do I still have so much shit?


It’s little things. I collect tiny things, thinking “this won’t take up much space!” only now, I have *heaps* of tiny little obnoxious things that I don’t want to get rid of, and they take up space, and they get heavy.

And paper. I think “Oh, I’ve almost filled this notebook, I should get another one!” not remembering how quickly paper gets heavy.

Le sigh.

Sometimes I wish I could take the sentimental part of my brain and send it around to the moon for a time-out that takes just long enough for me to get rid of all of this crap that I’ve been carrying around.

(On the other hand, I really am traveling *significantly* lighter than I was at the start. So. Progress *is* being made. I guess.)

I’m going to get down to having all of my stuff fit easily in one bag, and then I am going to NEVER outgrow that bag, ever again.

I am SO done with hauling all this crap around.


I do this things sometimes, where choices freak me out?

I’ve been trying to figure out what I want to do with my final fortnight in Australia. Where do I want to go, what do I want to do, how do I want to get there.

I couldn’t sleep last night, so I was online, trying to figure out the best way to get from where I am to where I want to be.

Then I realized:

Where I want to be…isn’t Australia?

The things that I have left that I want to do in Australia aren’t things that I want to try and cram in to the tiny amount of space I have left.

The things that I still want to do in Australia are things that I want to be stressed about. I don’t want to be worrying about whether I’ll miss out on something, or whether I should have made a different decision.


fuck it.

I’m going to Bali.


And…More Planning…

I’m coming to the end of my visa in Australia, so I’ve been trying to figure out what I’m going to do next.

I’ve started mass-applying to cruise lines, so we’ll see how that goes.

I think I’ve spent more months applying for work this year than I have actually working.


Early New Year’s Resolution:

Don’t do that again.




On the other hand…I have so many different styles of resumes and CV’s completed now. It’s actually quite impressive.

“Oh, a hospitality position? I have a CV for that.” “Oh, a sales job? I have a CV for that.” “Cooking? Done.” “Something in the Arts? Got it.”

I’m glad I have them, and I hope very much that I won’t need them. Because seriously. Job hunting. -_-


My blog posts have been a bit on the side of short-and-perfunctory lately, and I hope you bear with me. A lot of my writing time is going to an attempt at NaNoWriMo.

(I don’t know *why* I wanted to try writing a novel this year. I have so many plans for *traveling* this month. I’m not sure why I thought that I should try to get 50,000 words out in the next 30 days, when I’m already planning 5 day bus trips and international flights and possibly train rides, none of which are particularly great for typing (my writing style of choice). But, that’s what I’ve done, so I’m going to do my best with it.)

So. Yeah. Apologies for short posts for the foreseeable future. :D