The Abysmal Life of Crayon

Experience the joys in the life of jaded Sydney-siders Crayon and Jamin-kun.

Thursday, August 19, 2004

treading water

I am not feeling particularly bloggerish lately. I mean, whats the point. I think too many people know who I am now. I'm going to have to start again. This time I'll be more careful. It was better when I was anonymous, unfettered.

I was able to write about anything, because I knew there was nothing holding me back.

It's 8:30 in the morning here in Sydney. The cold winter sun is disintegrating over the harbour. A lone ferry pushes its way through the icy grey water, and rippling, sand-like clouds drift overhead.

Steam rises from the tops of buildings in the city. The pavements recovering from the onslaught of rain from last night.

I didn't know what to do with myself last night. I was anxious, my stomach a knot of butterflies and insects.

I have resigned from my job. And now the voice inside me is saying "What are you going to do?"

Jamin-kun and I are going overseas. We are going to Europe. For a long time. It wasn't a spur of the moment thing. But now, I sense that we wanted to experience the freedom of just being able to say, "I am leaving, and I am leaving now." And so, with miminal planning, we leave in a month.

We will buy a campervan together, and then roam, nomadically, until we feel we’ve done enough.

Never have I ever travelled like this before. Never with nothing in front of me or behind me. We are simply going to go from one place to the next in the van, live out of the back, cook food on the stove, maybe work in farms along the way, perhaps get some fruit picking jobs in the summer. When we move out of the house in three weeks, we will get rid of everything, sell it, give it away, throw it our…and only have the back packs on our backs, and our passports.

We’ve worked out we can survive together for up to 10 months on the money we both have saved. That is, if we live like we’ve never lived before.

But I have always wanted to do that. Always wanted to get rid of the stereo, the TV, the phone, the mobile, the computer, the meaningless accessories we seem unable to live without.

But last night, I wandered around the house, not wanting to feel the knot of anxiety that was steadily growing.

Obviously this is going to take courage.

Well then. All I can do is go; try; live the way I’ve always wanted. At least so I can prove to myself that I am not made up of what I own. Or what I do. This post could get a touch philosophical. Or perhaps this blog has been philosophical all along, and I don’t even realise that this is what it’s been all about. Me trying to understand myself.

Why do something quite so extreme as leaving everything you know, and going somewhere where you have no security, no house, no money, no job, no life. What is it that deadens people if they stay in one place for too long. I’m sick of asking, and perhaps leaving now is my way of saying to myself, stop spouting ideas and philosophies, put yourself out there and experience.

I think this may be one of my last posts as Crayon.

Tomorrow I will be noone again.


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Thursday, August 05, 2004

Gerbils are the best sort of person to be

I have been feeling sad lately. Again. I am sad sack. I am, once more, Abysmal Crayon.

Don't particularly feel like talking much, but there you have it, I can't help myself.

I also can't help but feel sometimes I wish I was the only person on the planet. Like, that there was no one, not a single person to annoy me, to tell me what to do, to ask me something.

I know it's irrational, because I all I want to do when I get home at night is talk to Jamin-kun. I don't know what it is about me a silence. I love silence. Perhaps it is because it is slightly harder for me to cope with so many external noises because of my hearing aids? I don't know.

All I know is I sometimes, just wish I could get far far away from everything - noise, light, people, animals, cars, trains.

There is so little space in the city, no where that you can truly be alone.

I used to be able to get that "alone" feeling more often when I was at university. At those times, I would go into a cafe, library, bar, walk the streets, and I just would feel completely disconnected to everyone, like, they were all so different, and I couldn't understand them, and they couldn't understand me.

However, these days, I dont get the "observer/flaneur" feeling, I just feel like I am part of the whole waterslide you know? I going up the stairs with everyone else, and I can't turn around and go back because the crowds too big.

I can't turn around and say "Get me the fuck off! I only want to watch!"

The only way is up, and when the time comes, the only way is down the slide, with everyone else. I feel like I am doing things i dont want to do because this is what everyone says is right and correct.

I was cursing myself as I walked up the street at lunchtime today. Cursing myself that I had not become an artist.

I was way to scared to go against the grain.

I still cannot believe it sometimes. I had always been so sure of myself. So, so sure! I used to write journals when I was in year 8 and 9, only pretty, scented pink paper, in one of those Diaries that locked up and had a key, and I wrote things like "Never let anyone tell you what to do, dont feel bad about being different...Be true to yourself. Do what you want to do. Oh, and I like Mark, that guy in the Maths class up the hall. And I hate Wendy, shes a back stabber."

It might seem idiotic now, but I tried so hard. But heartfelt desires can be so easily and cleverly masked by societal pressures.

I guess no one would really do anything if there was no one to compete against, or compare against. it'd be too easy just to drift into a comfortable flatness of doing the bare minimum, excelling in nothing.

But this is exactly what I have been agonising over. If this comfortable flatness feels good, is it so bad?

Sometimes i wish I was a tree.

Or a gerbil.

Maybe a peice of sand in the desert.




No, a gerbil is good.





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