Category: Thoughts uncut

My brain on covid – day 1

3:17 am: Why am I up at this hour?

3:18 am: Because you’re cold. Refill your hot water bottle.

3:19 am: Do I have a proper socks somewhere?

3:20 am: No. All the ones you have are holey, and is of no use.

3:21 am: I’m going to look at thermal socks online. 

3:25 am: Go back to sleep.

3:26 am: I’m not sleepy. It’s probably the jet lag kicking in. 

3:30: What’s on Facebook, I wonder.

3:33: Oh, here’s a funny meme. I’m going to share it.

3:33 am: Go back to sleep.

3:34 am: In a minute. What should I say in the caption?

3:34 am: “I’m exhausted, jet lagged, and confused. Don’t take me seriously”?

3:35 am: Ha, ha, funny. Not.

8:00 am: Why the hell is it so bright outside?

8:01 am: Oh, oh, oh, my head hurts.

8:03 am: Why’s it so bright?

8:05 am: Do I have to get up?

8:07 am: Oh, my colleague’s texted. “Are you ok?”

8:08 am: …

8:09 am: …

8:20 am: Shit, can’t believe I fell asleep again. 

8:30 am: Get up! Brush your teeth! Drink coffee!

8:31 am: Mmm, coffee…

8:45 am: Oh my head hurts. Ouch, and my back. Didn’t know that could hurt.

8:46 am: Where’s my hot water bag?

8:48 am: Should I take a selfie of my lying on the bed with the hot water bottle over my back? 

8:49 am: …

8:50 am: Don’t be stupid. You’d not going to post it anywhere. 

8:51 am: I’m taking it anyway.

8:52 am: Don’t you dare post it on socials!

11:00 am: Why’s the time so slow?

11:15 am: I’m going to lie down a bit.

11:20 am: Why’s the time so slow?

11:30 am: Am I hungry?

11:31 am: I’m having a tea anyway.

11:34 am: Might as well have some bread with it.

12:00 pm: Why’s the time so slow?

12:01 pm: I don’t know! 

12:30 pm: My head hurts. I’m going to lie down a bit.

12:31 pm: You do that.

12:45 pm: I think I need a poo.

12:46 pm: Probably for the best.

12:47 pm: Do I have to get up, though?

12:48 pm: You’ll have a lot more work if you don’t.

12:48 pm: Sigh. In a minute.

1:25 pm: Why can’t I type properly?

1:28 pm: Why can’t I put words in the right order?

1:30 pm: Brain fog, probably?

1:31 pm: Can’t be. I can speak clearly and read fine.

1:32 pm …

2:00 pm: I can’t believe I did so much work today.

2:01 pm: Well, you did have a lot of time on your hands. And no where to potter around.

2:30 pm: My head hurts. I’m going to lie down a bit.

3:30 pm: Should I eat something?

3:31 pm: Probably. Are you hungry?

3:32 pm: Not really. But I wouldn’t mind another slice of bread. 

4:30 pm: Why does my head still hurt?

5:30 pm: I’m going to lie down for a bit.

5:45 pm: How wonderful it is to lie and bed and listen to the ambient sounds. 

6:00 pm: Why does my head hurt? I’m going to close my eyes for a bit. That might help.

11:00 pm: What the hell!?

11:01 pm: You’re cold. Refill your hot water bottle.

11:02 pm: Oh, ffs.

My brain on covid – day 0

6:45 pm: It’s only been there minutes. Can it really be accurate? 

6:46 pm: Should I wait the full 15 minutes or—?

6:47 pm: It’s already showed positive. That’s not going to change just because you wait longer.

6:48 pm: Are you sure, though?

6:55 pm: It’s positive. Just get on with it.

6:57 pm: But I don’t feel sick!

6:57 pm: A lot of people don’t, you dumb arse. Doesn’t mean you aren’t.

7:00 pm: Can I go for my run in the morning, though? I feel like the fresh morning air would help. 

7:00 pm: Don’t be an idiot!

7:01 pm: Fine. I’m going to bed. My head hurts.

7:02 pm: Should I read a book?

7:03 pm: Good luck.

Moving

I moved. Again.

After living in Canberra for nearly three years, I’ve now relocated to Adelaide. I’ve packed up my entire life, said good bye to some of my best friends, and flown almost two hours to the west of Australia.

photo of the view as seen from the window seat of a plane. picture shows the landscape of a city with a river and the setting sun in the distant horizon

It’s time to start again.

This time, however—for the first time in my life— it doesn’t feel like I’m running away. All of my previous relocations had an air of hope, of expectation, of the self-made assurance that I was leaving for someplace infinitely better. Moving meant going to better places.

It’s different this time, though. I love Canberra. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed my time in the capital. Every day was exciting. As mundane as a regular Tuesday afternoon was, I still had everything I loved—my writing group, sea shanties, poetry nights, gawking at the galas, shaking my head at cockatoos, and just being in nature day after day. Hundreds of gumtrees hundreds of years old lived in my backyard. The bush capital had become my home and there was no other place I’d have rather been.

Naturally, I had to leave.

Leaving a place I didn’t want to leave is one of the toughest things I’ve done in my life. But I’d become far too attached. That’s mostly a good thing, of course, but not when the attachment takes hold and breeds the fear of moving away‚ the fear of being uncomfortable and being in the unfamiliar. I was afraid that I might grow afraid to leave Canberra.

I had to push myself to explore new avenues. Adelaide came to mind. Hot, humid, close to the desert, and driest capital city in the country. It’s miles smaller than Sydney or Melbourne or Brisbane, but that’s what I wanted—it’s the closest you can get to Canberra’s small-town vibes. Except of course, the population is still more than twice the capital’s. What’s life if you’re not putting yourself in hotspots? Here I am, doing that. Literally.

Canberra friends who lived and studied and worked in Adelaide were surprised to hear of my decision to move Adelaide. It’s a place most people moved away from, not to. In my friends’ eyes, I was hurtling headfirst into an unknown that probably has a stone cold floor.

Maybe it does. But I’ve got thick skin and a hard hat.

I hope to land on my feet, and if my feet get cold, I’ll happily admit and move on to another place. I always keep that option open. But never experiencing this city is never an option. I might be stupid to pack my entire life into a 45 litre hiking backpack and fly into a city I’d never been to before. But there’s no one right way to find yourself in a new city—there’s only what you know and what you think might work for you.

This works for me.

Sight to behold

strawberry bushes in the sunlight, Hillwood Berry Farm, Launceston, Tasmania
Hillwood Berry Farm, Launceston, Tasmania

Basking in sunshine,
showing off to greedy world—
strawberry bushes.

Keep walking

Sometimes it’s a little better to travel than to arrive.

Robert M. Pirsig, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: An Inquiry Into Values

This is a great book. It’s relevant to everyday life in so many surprising ways. I don’t ride a motorcycle—can’t even get my feet to touch the ground on most motorcycles. And yet I read it, and thoroughly enjoyed it.

I’m away on holiday for a couple of weeks, and until I get back with more haiku and photographs, I’m sharing some of my favourite quotes. Hope you enjoy!

If you want more, check these out:

Travel haiku | Musings about life | Copywriting adventures