A few things are coming together this week. Tomorrow I have to go and pay the rent on my place in Sydney (the only place I can do it is in the city - how crap is that?) and grab a book to read for my thesis. Sometime this week I need to book the flight home to Sydney. Which means it’s a leaving and getting on with things kind of time. I want to be in Sydney by O week to get ready for teaching and to catch up with what’s going on there, so a week or two more and it will be time to think of packing everything up again.

Perth has been fun. It’s been good mostly because I’ve been living in a place with enough room to move around and decent light, and getting my mum to do the shopping. Seeing all my friends again and (shock) actually going out places has also been so very welcome - living in the most interesting city is still boring when you don’t know anyone who wants to go anywhere. And on that note, I’m not surprised that the only girl I’ve met for aaaages that I’ve felt I had some connection with was here.* That said, I’ve been watching a lot of tv as well. I have a newfound appreciation for M*A*S*H and I’m drooling over the double Buffy that’s going to be on in a minute. Wasting your life is a totally relative thing.

I don’t know what Sydney will be like. I don’t know what I want to happen there, or how I’ll feel about whatever does happen. It would be nice to be absorbed in work, but my inability to type and total impatience for reading literature mean that I’ll probably have plenty more time for thinking it over and watching Buffy. I envy people who are certain about what they mean when they talk about ‘home’. It’s hard to be divided, and in a strange way it’s hard when you’re not divided between somewhere you hate and somewhere you love - just between two places where you can’t find enough to care about. Do you know the times when you wish life would give you a break?

*See previous post and this one.