existential angst
It would be nice if my blogs had a bit more humour to them of late, but to be quite truthful, I have found myself frequently angst ridden since I returned to Hobart after a blissful Christmas break. Not angst ridden in a kind of "I better wear black and read books and only eat salad sandwiches", but more in a career stricken way. Except the career is pottering along reasonably nicely, within the work hours. I like teaching, I have lots of variety, I wrestle with a huge "To Do" list but that's because there are so many mini projects I'd like to achieve.
It's more the fact that whatever job you do, fits within a context of home life, social life, social life at work, etc and they all interact. Having been given a "promotion" so early into my new job means that I've gone from being an equal and peer to being someone privileged and thus envied and sometimes excluded. There are lots of things I can do to try and foster my connections and credit with my workpeers, but sometimes I just can't be bothered or feel as though it's unfair and one-sided to have to do all the work. (ugh, hate using words like "unfair", sounds like being a kid again and thinking it was unfair that my sister got to stay up later, or be in the audience for perfect match but I couldn't because she was over 15).
Since Christmas I have been so unsettled without Andy by my side. There are many positives that I can get out of this situation, if not the simplicity of knowing that happiness doesn't come from material possessions or expensive holidays but from blissful domestic serentity together. Just being together reading is such a joyful experience, or painting together, walking outside, swimming in the ocean. We used to be gluttons, always wining and dining when we were in Adelaide and on holidays, but in Robe we returned to simpler meals together, slower food.
I have also become self-conscious about new relationships and friendships, in a way that I don't necessarily like. It's a claustrophobic goldfish bowl here. I was reminded of this when chatting to Jenna, an ex-Sydney-pat at a bbq on Sunday. She moved last year in February and is living in a great share house in Battery Point, but in the process of finding that place looked at many others. The shock to her of living in such a small city was how quickly she would run into people she'd met in her accommodation search that blanked her in the street; people who had listened to her hopes and wishes and extracted her life story from her in an effort to assess her tenantability, and found her wanting. I asked if this had affected her feelings about socialising in a new city and she agreed that initially it did; made her wonder what the local scence would be like, how many times she'd encounter that freeze out, if that was indicative of the locals.
SOOO like my experience. And as I was explaining to Petra yesterday afternoon, trying to calm my angst behind my sunglasses, for a few months that blighted my experience. My reaction to feeling so exposed and of putting my story out to public view, was to repress it, protect myself, guard against that, and that's just as bad. Kirsten and Susan were the first people I met when it was just easy, there was no editing or caution, they just got it. Petra too. I suspect it's obvious to my closest circle here of how much I am wrestling with my feelings at the moment; of wanting more privacy than is ever possible in such a small city, and how much the claustrophobia is affecting my emotions.
Had a pretty good Sunday though. The bbq was quite good fun, Jenna and Angie were farewelling old flatmates and welcoming new ones; they'd done quite well in choosing a down to earth non-princess female and a mountain bike riding bloke with a healthy quota of male friends. The food was great and the view from the kitchen over lower sandy bay was even better, however P and I suffered from house envy and felt the need to take the dog to the beach. She showed me the dirt track into the dog beach and we walked up and down a track to the rocks where brave souls jump off the cliffs. I have a picture in my snow dome of a very similiar scene:
People jumping off a cliff into a caribbean sea, with a small punt close by and snow flakes dancing across the deep blue sea.
We jumped off metre high rocks, as far out as we could manage with a bomb dive (had contact lenses in so had to be careful) and swam out and around. The views of the Tasman peninsula are amazing, we could see Bruny Island, Opossum Bay and more, but very little of the city. When you put your ears in the water you heard little popping sounds like sea creatures eating (P's theory) , or water draining through sea beds (my theory). Dog kept whimpering, for fear that we would swim away forever and he would regret not liking to swim. A little boy came over later and asked if he could play with Dog, but gave up rather quickly due to Dog's indifference. (if he'd had food, Dog would have befriended him instantly).
Water was cold, shocking, salty, deep, quite different swimming directly off cliffs to paddling through waves. Easier to float and rest and relax, which P and I continued to do, huddled against the rocks in gentle shade, gaining our warmth from the baked rocks. Blissful really.
We topped off this venture into nature by eating another bbq at Kieran's bedsit, K being a charmingly low maintenace jock, but it is quite refreshing. He was completely perplexed when P and I attempted to impersonate the baby voices that had so annoyed us on Friday night. Will have to ask my new tennis buddy if he notices it amongst his coterie of mates ex-girlfriends that he has befriended (tennis buddy went to an all boys school so has large contingent of mates who invite him to engagement parties, spend time in hospital with mva injuries or occasionally flit into Hobart in between ruling the world. TB has GF that lives overseas and is tall, thus a very desirable handbag for the girls).
It's more the fact that whatever job you do, fits within a context of home life, social life, social life at work, etc and they all interact. Having been given a "promotion" so early into my new job means that I've gone from being an equal and peer to being someone privileged and thus envied and sometimes excluded. There are lots of things I can do to try and foster my connections and credit with my workpeers, but sometimes I just can't be bothered or feel as though it's unfair and one-sided to have to do all the work. (ugh, hate using words like "unfair", sounds like being a kid again and thinking it was unfair that my sister got to stay up later, or be in the audience for perfect match but I couldn't because she was over 15).
Since Christmas I have been so unsettled without Andy by my side. There are many positives that I can get out of this situation, if not the simplicity of knowing that happiness doesn't come from material possessions or expensive holidays but from blissful domestic serentity together. Just being together reading is such a joyful experience, or painting together, walking outside, swimming in the ocean. We used to be gluttons, always wining and dining when we were in Adelaide and on holidays, but in Robe we returned to simpler meals together, slower food.
I have also become self-conscious about new relationships and friendships, in a way that I don't necessarily like. It's a claustrophobic goldfish bowl here. I was reminded of this when chatting to Jenna, an ex-Sydney-pat at a bbq on Sunday. She moved last year in February and is living in a great share house in Battery Point, but in the process of finding that place looked at many others. The shock to her of living in such a small city was how quickly she would run into people she'd met in her accommodation search that blanked her in the street; people who had listened to her hopes and wishes and extracted her life story from her in an effort to assess her tenantability, and found her wanting. I asked if this had affected her feelings about socialising in a new city and she agreed that initially it did; made her wonder what the local scence would be like, how many times she'd encounter that freeze out, if that was indicative of the locals.
SOOO like my experience. And as I was explaining to Petra yesterday afternoon, trying to calm my angst behind my sunglasses, for a few months that blighted my experience. My reaction to feeling so exposed and of putting my story out to public view, was to repress it, protect myself, guard against that, and that's just as bad. Kirsten and Susan were the first people I met when it was just easy, there was no editing or caution, they just got it. Petra too. I suspect it's obvious to my closest circle here of how much I am wrestling with my feelings at the moment; of wanting more privacy than is ever possible in such a small city, and how much the claustrophobia is affecting my emotions.
Had a pretty good Sunday though. The bbq was quite good fun, Jenna and Angie were farewelling old flatmates and welcoming new ones; they'd done quite well in choosing a down to earth non-princess female and a mountain bike riding bloke with a healthy quota of male friends. The food was great and the view from the kitchen over lower sandy bay was even better, however P and I suffered from house envy and felt the need to take the dog to the beach. She showed me the dirt track into the dog beach and we walked up and down a track to the rocks where brave souls jump off the cliffs. I have a picture in my snow dome of a very similiar scene:
People jumping off a cliff into a caribbean sea, with a small punt close by and snow flakes dancing across the deep blue sea.
We jumped off metre high rocks, as far out as we could manage with a bomb dive (had contact lenses in so had to be careful) and swam out and around. The views of the Tasman peninsula are amazing, we could see Bruny Island, Opossum Bay and more, but very little of the city. When you put your ears in the water you heard little popping sounds like sea creatures eating (P's theory) , or water draining through sea beds (my theory). Dog kept whimpering, for fear that we would swim away forever and he would regret not liking to swim. A little boy came over later and asked if he could play with Dog, but gave up rather quickly due to Dog's indifference. (if he'd had food, Dog would have befriended him instantly).
Water was cold, shocking, salty, deep, quite different swimming directly off cliffs to paddling through waves. Easier to float and rest and relax, which P and I continued to do, huddled against the rocks in gentle shade, gaining our warmth from the baked rocks. Blissful really.
We topped off this venture into nature by eating another bbq at Kieran's bedsit, K being a charmingly low maintenace jock, but it is quite refreshing. He was completely perplexed when P and I attempted to impersonate the baby voices that had so annoyed us on Friday night. Will have to ask my new tennis buddy if he notices it amongst his coterie of mates ex-girlfriends that he has befriended (tennis buddy went to an all boys school so has large contingent of mates who invite him to engagement parties, spend time in hospital with mva injuries or occasionally flit into Hobart in between ruling the world. TB has GF that lives overseas and is tall, thus a very desirable handbag for the girls).
Comments