friends in need and friend in deed
I finally realised that the song I loved to hear was by Placebo... so I digress. However I was thinking about my friends that I have made over the past 2ish years since I left a very favourabel and comfortable social situation in Adelaide. I had the social life I wanted: engaged friends and acquaintances who were immersed in all sorts of community festivals and workshops and the like, people who were witty and intelligent and kind to me. I chucked it all in for an adventure in character building, to develop negotiating skills and stretch my intellect and cv, and I think I've succeeded. I definitely have become a nicer and better rounded person, someone who can come up close to other people's despair and not get scared of catching it. I have survived bad periods of loneliness though, and will always associate Tasmania with a kind of despair but I also appreciated the friends I made and the outdoor experiences I had. Only the Flinders Ranges matched the rugged landscapes I encountered there.
So where am I now in regards to the friend situation? Living in a smaller place now, with less bookshops but same number of cinemas, on an outpost of a bad highway in a place of absolutely stunning beauty. There's something about this place that makes it still a forgotten town, where there are only ugy cheap houses or McMansions and not much in between and very little in the way of handsome public buildings. Neighbouring towns with populations a tenth of mine have far better town appeal than where I live, but I have beaches and a national park, pelicans and tall trees, sea breezes and night time sounds of birds.
It's often empty of people though, and I can't explain quite what it is like to live in such an 80s void, There are pockets of oasis, but it's all very random and sometimes I fear that I've discovered it all; or that I won't yet discover it... and sometimes I get self conscious about being the new person in town.
On the plus side, I've realised that everywhere I go I make friends, and I keep them. Everyone I've befriended appreciates my company and ends up complimenting me for different things: loyalty, adventurousness, compassion, bluntness. I'm not sure these were qualities I particularly had ten years ago.
Last night I had dinner with friends at my favourite surf bistro, and I felt proud of the small circle, that when I want to see a band or go surfing or visit an art exhibition, I have always been able to find a fellow companion. It's nice. My friend Nat really notices not being able to just sit in a cafe alone reading the paper and soaking up the atmosphere of a busy room-and I know what she means.
On Saturday of the election I saw my swim teacher, a girl wearing Kevin07 t-shirt and a heap of vaguely familiar middle aged people at my local cafe. They know my name there, my order, and hassle me for not cycling to work, I quite like some of the art works hanging on the wall, but it still doesn't compare to a city cafe likeSarah worked at in Sydney. There she would serve regulars including Patrick Dodson at a cafe managed by people who worshipped at the altar of coffee. I also think of the State Library cafe Mr Tulk or the City of Melbourne library cafe JOURNAL. These cafes are set up and dedicated to reading, with communal tables, low lamps and plenty of papers. Mine always has the papers, but it is frequented by the surf shop bunny, a thongs wearing guy that expressed disinterest and boredom in the election (how could voting out a tired and mean leader be boring!), a Jana Pitman lookalike and twin blondes that discuss share options. On the other hand, quite a few were at the screening of Liyarn Ngarn when Archie Roach performed.
So where am I now in regards to the friend situation? Living in a smaller place now, with less bookshops but same number of cinemas, on an outpost of a bad highway in a place of absolutely stunning beauty. There's something about this place that makes it still a forgotten town, where there are only ugy cheap houses or McMansions and not much in between and very little in the way of handsome public buildings. Neighbouring towns with populations a tenth of mine have far better town appeal than where I live, but I have beaches and a national park, pelicans and tall trees, sea breezes and night time sounds of birds.
It's often empty of people though, and I can't explain quite what it is like to live in such an 80s void, There are pockets of oasis, but it's all very random and sometimes I fear that I've discovered it all; or that I won't yet discover it... and sometimes I get self conscious about being the new person in town.
On the plus side, I've realised that everywhere I go I make friends, and I keep them. Everyone I've befriended appreciates my company and ends up complimenting me for different things: loyalty, adventurousness, compassion, bluntness. I'm not sure these were qualities I particularly had ten years ago.
Last night I had dinner with friends at my favourite surf bistro, and I felt proud of the small circle, that when I want to see a band or go surfing or visit an art exhibition, I have always been able to find a fellow companion. It's nice. My friend Nat really notices not being able to just sit in a cafe alone reading the paper and soaking up the atmosphere of a busy room-and I know what she means.
On Saturday of the election I saw my swim teacher, a girl wearing Kevin07 t-shirt and a heap of vaguely familiar middle aged people at my local cafe. They know my name there, my order, and hassle me for not cycling to work, I quite like some of the art works hanging on the wall, but it still doesn't compare to a city cafe likeSarah worked at in Sydney. There she would serve regulars including Patrick Dodson at a cafe managed by people who worshipped at the altar of coffee. I also think of the State Library cafe Mr Tulk or the City of Melbourne library cafe JOURNAL. These cafes are set up and dedicated to reading, with communal tables, low lamps and plenty of papers. Mine always has the papers, but it is frequented by the surf shop bunny, a thongs wearing guy that expressed disinterest and boredom in the election (how could voting out a tired and mean leader be boring!), a Jana Pitman lookalike and twin blondes that discuss share options. On the other hand, quite a few were at the screening of Liyarn Ngarn when Archie Roach performed.
Comments