A select quote from Noelle this evening:
“Frankfurt is industrial because there, buildings exist.”
I need to tidy my room. Back six days and my room’s a mess. Tomorrow is the one week anniversary of us returning home and I hate the life that existed before that I’ve now got to settle back into. I hate it.
But what can I do? I don’t want to be the person that everyone remembers me as. Don’t get me wrong, I know I haven’t changed that much, and at least not fundamentally, but there are things that are different and I don’t want to fall into playing the role that I played before I left just because other people expect that of me. I know that happens – someone treats you a certain way, and that’s the way you act because that’s the way they treat you. Or people treat you that way because that’s how you act. It’s a circle turning around and around and around and around and never stops unless you jump out and then you might get hurt because it’s going so fast. You might end up somewhere you don’t know where you are, and is it better to know who you are through the way other people act towards you than not knowing who you are at all?
When I came home, and tried to turn certain lights on in the house, I thought, “wow, I’ve been away five weeks and forgotten which switch turns on which light.” but then tonight I realised that I never knew which switch turned on which light, and I’ve always just turned them on until I find the right one. Then again, when we came home I HAD forgotten where the plates were kept, and where the bowls were, and in looking for them I found a cupboard with little bottles of herbs and spices that I never knew were there. So it was a good thing. But that wasn’t my point. I think my point was stupid anyway, so I’ll just forget about it.
Nathan & Lauren said to me today, “When are you going to write a book?”, like it was something that I’d planned on doing but had been neglecting, like washing up or going grocery shopping. And where did this question come from? And the conversation lasted ages, where they were convincing me it was a good idea. It’s not that I don’t think it’s a good idea, it’s just not that easy, and where on earth has this all come from anyway? Because if I had said to Lauren, “When are you going to write a book?”, it would be an odd question. But why is this a normal question for them to ask me?
I love The Strokes. Nathan made me watch a documentary on Punk music today, and I loved it. I love it. So many things I didn’t know. Then I watched some Harvey Birdman, but it’s just not as funny watching it by yourself. We were watching a Tenacious D DVD and the short films on there were just disgusting, like really, really foul. I felt like throwing up watching them. But they were funny, in a shocking kind of way. Shocking funny.
Noelle came home later on, and we had a big conversation about how difficult it is coming back from such a huge, amazing experience and having to fit back into ordinary life. There are some changes that must be made. I can no longer be part of this ordinary life. Not now that I know there is so much more out there. I don’t mean that I am going to run off and join the circus or anything, but I do need to do something to challenge my mind, which I am not really doing at the moment (So why don’t you write a book?) Shhhh! that keeps running through my head! I’m not writing a book. Why do I have to write a book?
Why??? I want an answer for every single question I could ever ask. That would make me feel better. I want to know everything. That’s what I said before I had been fully trained up at work. “I want to know everything, I want to learn everything.” And now? I want to know MORE. I want to know everything about the things that I want to know about, that have nothing to do with work, nothing to do with interest rates and accounts and loan servicing capacity, and loan to value ratios, and products, and corporate dress codes, and meetings, and process changes, and stamp duty, and word and excel and powerpoint and outlook and going forward… and reminders and message flags and importance and allocations and stats and performance reviews… AGH! I’m just NOT INTERESTED!
In Greystones, in Ireland, we were standing in the street when some man burst out of the shop across the road (which was called something ambiguous but we found out later that it was like a TAB) and ran up to us with flushed cheeks and nervous eyes and said, “Could I borrow a euro?”, and we said “Oh no, we’re fresh of the plane, we haven’t converted any, all we have are pound coins.” And he said, “Well I could take a pound coin, I could use that!” And then when Lauren & Noelle were umming and ah-ing about what to say next, I said “What is it for? What do you actually want the money for?” and he said “I’m looking out for a friend.” Which means absolutely nothing, because how on earth could a one pound coin help anyone look out for their friend? And I felt annoyed because he couldn’t be forthright, and still expected us to give him something when he couldn’t even give the truth. That story doesn’t have a point either I guess. It’s like a guy I used to work with once came back from lunch and said that a homeless person outside our building had said to him, “Can I have two dollars for a sandwich?” And he had replied, “well, what kind is it first of all? I want to know if it’s something I like before I buy it off you.”
What am I doing up at 1:30am on a Sunday morning? Well, nothing, obviously. I’m sitting here doing absolutely nothing (certainly not writing a book, in case Nathan & Lauren are still wondering over that). I’m not tired, because I’ve had three cups of tea this afternoon, which is probably the equivalent of shooting myself in the foot as far as getting back on track with our time zone is concerned. Noelle & I are going into the city tomorrow afternoon. She wants to dye the underneath of her hair a black-violet. I want to be who I want to be without worrying about corporate standards. But I’m not going to worry about it any more, because it doesn’t matter. How can I be disaffected when I let myself be affected by everything? I so want to be disaffected. I could wallow in my own apathy, and say “Look, I DON’T CARE about
ANYTHING!!!” That would be so good.
I don’t CARE! (And I’m not writing a book right now).