I am sitting here listening to the rain. Thinking about how it never rains in Australia and how I miss it. The weather here taunts you with rain, almost like that bully who held the action figure in your face only to take it away. I am starting to think this might be the reason there’s a water shortage here. I am writing now because I realized that my time here is almost done, and my time here has gone too fast. Well, it has gone to fast in the slowest way possible. Or maybe it has gone too slow in the fastest way possible. I do know one thing for sure. It is nothing like I expected. I thought I was coming to the land of sea and sand. I thought I was going to be on the beach all day reenacting Bob Marley and only going to class during comedowns but it turns out that that is all propaganda. I am now dealing with the problem that I don’t want the rain to stop but I can hear it slowing down. It is like this huge, vast and crazy country is the 5-year-old child who only takes as much water as is absolutely needed, then whines about it being thirsty all the time. I often wonder if I am that same way. If I have been here and not gotten enough water because I was too hyperactive to drink it. All I know is this, there is no way to come to a country and live like a native while doing all the tourist things that are expected of you. I chose to go native, but that means I do not get to be apart from the real Australia. I get to see the real Oz, cities and small town alike. The places where no one goes anywhere because their real lives are happening where they are. I bur against the saddle when I take too much time to think. Maybe that’s why I have been the worst blog writer ever. I have seen more and done more then I needed to and I have spent this whole trip with this tiny imp on my shoulder. He is a composition of all the people I love and all their desires for me while I am in Australia. There are the loving grandparents who always want what is best for me and are always willing to help. The only problem is I feel like I let them down because they only hear the stories of the weekend in Namboor at the beach, or the many nights at the pub or my death defying leap from a bus overhang. The reason for that is it is not fun to write the stories about me sitting in a plastic chair in my white brick single dorm room in union college, desperately trying to reach the word count of the first of 4 papers that all seem to be due at the same time. I feel them talking to me each time I go out and every time I forget to take a picture or opt to have some Aussie fun rather than study. Also I hear the voice of my mother. Trying so hard to give me everything but placing it in such a way that I can only get to it if I try. She says she expects nothing of me but I know that I expect something of me on her behalf. Then there are my friends who want to hear the stories, so when we all get back to our small little worlds we can compare note and spin yarns that will keep us sane during another year of the same back in the middle of the land of liberty. These voices are in my head and in my heart. Maybe that is why I don’t want the rain to stop. So I can drink it for them. So I can never be thirsty when I think about my six months in the land down under. But in the end the rain will stop. The weather will get hot because it is summer after all and I will get up and go to class like every native OZ student does. Someone once asked me what it was like in Australia and what you get out if it. I think I have an answer now. It will give you as much as you are willing to drink. I know I tried, but in the end I am still whining in my Power Ranger Undroos that I am thirsty. I guess I need to start drinking more…if only to make my mother happy.
I am going to start writing more even though school is putting me though the ringer. I have hundreds of stories, but the trick is I am too busy having them to write them down. I can see the finish line, so I will be damned if I am not going to it right. I will make up for last time and I hope you all enjoy it. Can’t wait to talk to you and I am sorry again that I don’t write (See above reason why) See you soon.
Song Of The Post (Nina Simone ~ Ain’t Go No, I Got Life [Nina Simone v Groovefinder Remix])
~William Scot “Grecco” Bray