Move On...

"Stop worrying where you're going - move on. If you can know where you're going, you've gone. Just keep moving on." Dot professes to the confused artist George in the Sondheim musical, 'Sunday in the Park with George'.

Over two years ago I moved to Australia. Two years of radical change. Two years of self-discovery. Two years of rest and recuperation. Two years of growth. Two years that needed to happen. If my life was a movie, this would be the penultimate scene right before the end, where phrases like "Well, it's certainly been an adventure!" would be uttered and people would starting hugging each other goodbye as they march off into the sunset. This isn't the kind of adventure I've had at all really. I've still not seen Uluru or been to Western Australia, I've done a few touristy things but certainly not conquered the country or anything - I doubt I ever will either. I'm quite happy for the multitudes of backpackers to continue sampling Australia's sights and sounds I've missed. My adventure here was about prioritising my life, which I admit sounds as thrilling as a tax return party organised by Accountants of Dagenham, but honestly it's probably the best thing I've done with my life.

Not many people get to dissect their life and personality under the cold light of day but "snow globing my life" as I like to call it, has allowed me to do just that. Routine, fear of insecurity and delusion cloud most people from ever having to face this head on and is usually only reserved for for teenagers or 40 year olds going through a midlife crisis. For example, I realise I will always be more comfortable knowing I am doing the exact opposite to everyone else. I loathe it when something I love becomes popular with the masses so I prefer to move on - do something different. I also know I am my most happiest when I'm performing, working within the theatre, understanding 'an audience' and this is something I intend to rectify when I get back to city life.

I get annoyed when people assume I hate Sydney because I want to leave. Why would I want to abandon such a great lifestyle to return to noisy, expensive, economically unstable city they ask? I still think Sydney is a great place to live and fulfills a purpose with it's sun-drenched, hedonistic, carefree lifestyle which the city's inhabitants relish daily. This city has given me a tremendous amount and shown me I'm capable of achieving anything, that spontaneity has it's own unique rewards. You can get drunk on culture in London and thrive off the buzz of New York and a few years ago too much of this 'city life' became overwhelming but I now sorely miss this, I really do.

So, next steps? Well, they're partly out of my control. The one thing I'm sure of is that I have to move on.

So where the bloody hell am I?....

So it's been a while since I talked about myself. Ironic for a blog.

My random observations are probably not going to assure the casual reader that I'm fine and doing well. I fear my writing might meander once more into more profound thoughts and people will start turning off in their droves like when when Harry Secombe used to start singing on his religious programme Highway.

The allure of 'starting anew' is now bringing new hardened realities to the forefront and I'm realising now what it really takes to start again and the feeling of being out of place when I could be at home with all things familiar is a conundrum indeed for a brain like mine which loves to churn things through unnecessarily.

My life here at the moment is a bit like being at a sophisticated dinner party and having to wear someone else's clothes after perhaps being caught in the rain or after accidentally spilling spaghetti down my front. I'm sitting there, smiling away, feeling slightly aware of myself, thinking I really should sort myself out and get myself into something more 'Me' or vaguely familiar at least. While I sit there thinking this, all the other guests at the dinner table are giving me weak smiles as they go about their own conversations and I have no choice but to look down at the XL large sweater I've been given to wear, only realising it has the words "30 Years Old. Experiencing Quarter Life Crisis. Out Of Place But Willing" emblazoned on it.

It's a personal mental holiday. I am on leave. On sabbatical if you must. And being without goals at the moment disturbs me somewhat.

There is excitement to be had regarding my vocal tuition or in layman's terms my 'Singing Lessons' though.

As Kirstie Walk would say "More on this later..."

Wandering and wondering....

I started writing this to a friend and realised it was probably eloquent enough to put on here too with a few editorial tweaks.

It's my fourth week in Sydney now and as I sit here typing away at my laptop, thinking about how my life has changed, watching the unannounced clouds roll into the bay where I live (It's going to heave it down tonight with fantastic thunderstorm later - see, even the weather here is more interesting) I realised I'm just unemployed and wearing less clothes. However, it's not that bad really. It is hotter here and although I'm not cold at all, because I'm British I can't help thinking I may need an extra layer when I go out - just in case. It's a habit I have to break out of as I end up carrying a lot of useless crap around with me.

Life here is still in a state of limbo. It's not the worse state to be in but I'm desperately needing my own job and space now so I start my 'new life' in full. I went on the ferry to Circular Quays last week for an interview one morning. It was a spectacular Australian morning. A solid blue sky, as if someone had neatly selected the fill button on Human Nature's Photoshop and given the sky one hue of 'Blue'. I stood on the top deck of the ferry, allowing the breeze to dance through my hair and flutter against my face. I wore my aviator sunglasses, a crisp white cotton shirt, jeans and gracefully sat back to listen to Carly Simon's Let The River Run from the movie Working Girl. For a moment, I was Melanie Griffiths as Tess MgGill starting her first day of work, although for me it was my new life. Only then, for the first time since I arrived here did I think, "Richard. Everything is going to be okay."

It is nice to have open friendly public around you though when you make a significant move like this. Not have people who refuse to give you eye contact or glare into your soul if you invade their personal space on a train, bus or pavement, which pretty much sums up London's attitude to anyone and, I am ashamed to say, I was one of those people. (It's not quirky and eccentrically British - it's plain rude.) My initial spontaneity has been replaced with partial restlessness now and I fear for when order gets reintroduced into my life again, as I keep being told to enjoy the free time I currently have. I can't help knowing the organised part of me would like a 'Start Date' so it can schedule in events into my .Mac account calendar and buy trainers without guilt. I'm sure it will all fall into place come once the job arrives. I must learn to curb my impatience in the meantime.

I am enjoying the weather as it's not it's usual unbearably hot and more like a good British summer. I like seeing the water. It's everywhere and it's very calming. Even if you're in the middle of the city and your standing next to a man-made fountain it still has the same effect on you.

I went out on Oxford St, the gay district of Sydney last night and realised I loathe the scene wherever it may be. No new revelation there. Over here they're more vain and are usually 'off their tits' on something quite early on in the evening. This tends to stop when they reach 35 apparently, looking at the rental ads I saw last week. As then, they tend buy small dogs and apartments with great views of the harbour. I say this only as all the ads I've read are by gay men in their mid/late 30s who own amazing flats and a hairy collared animal who they describe as 'My Baby' or 'Chico' and always end their ad with the line "I do not tolerate drug users."

A spark of originality is all I ask for in a gay man. Please! My quest may continue a little longer perhaps.

There's A Life At The End Of This Tunnel...

A cockatoo landed on the veranda yesterday and my instant reaction was someone's pet had escaped. I realised then I was in another country. This is my new life now and big fat birds with yellow crests bounding up to a window pane is a perfectly common anomaly. Things are going to be different. I watched it with much bemusement and with a sense of pure novelty usually reserved for petting zoos and stupid people, realising my reaction to this exotic bird is probably how I've spent most of my time here since I arrived two weeks ago. It's not like I'm here on holiday or moved here permanently with both feet firmly on the ground, knowing which direction I'm heading. I'm in a limbo period and I'm not sure how to approach anything. I don't have my usual habits to fall back on or friends to immediately reassure me or places to go for comfort. I've spent some of it trying to recreate situations I had during my life back in London and unsurprisingly they just don't work over here. And that's good I suppose. I'm making hesitant choices over trivial things - what type of travel card to buy - Red? Blue? Travel Ten or Travel Pass? What meat do I choose from the alien supermarket freezer - why do the sausages look anemic and the lamb badly cut? Why do I think twice at meeting up with old friends who have offered to show me the way but prefer to meet complete strangers instead? I should be diving into everything head first, embracing it as it comes, but if I do, it means I'm actually 'living' here now.

A Time to Say Goodbye...

It is a wonderfully surreal experience knowing that the next month ahead of you will be full of choice, freedom and self inflicted fear. I got to steal a moment at my leaving do last night in order to see all my friends together under one roof. Laughing, smiling at me, sharing stories, so many different personalities sandwiched between wine glasses and beer bottles, all sharing one thing in common - my friendship.

I am a lucky, lucky man.

It was utterly heartbreaking but yet immensely life affirming to leave my friends. I hope they know how much happiness they've given me over the years. Old and new friends alike. Farewells and excitable exclamations from jealous friends were touching but I felt almost strangely unworthy, as I never felt I was doing anything special or come to think of it, anything they couldn't do themselves. I did feel like I was abandoning so many people who had given me so much. To relish in my future endeavor too much in front of them would have felt self-absorbed in way.

The 'Parentals' were there to also witness this potpourri of people who claimed to know me. The fact they got the chance to meet them all and see the side of my life they only hear in passing during the odd phone conversation was incredibly important to me and I know through friends who spoke to them they enjoyed themselves, despite the minimal reaction I got when I asked them. Modest to the end, my folks.

So, on to the next entry. This one will take a little longer to digress into literary prose. I'm stepping up to the bench, lets hope I can be brave and grab opportunity with both hands and not freak out and regress to the familiar.

Watch this space. And this time that space is awfully big.

A time for change...

Tomorrow is the end of 2007 and like most cliched endings, is a dawn of a new era for many people, mostly significantly for me as I prepare to uplift my life and move to a different country on the other side of the world. It's been a long time since I wrote my last entry and I am angry at myself for not keeping my writing going over the last five months. Life has been eventful. It's been full of events I could have written about, but life took over, as it usually does in these situations and I foolishly put this blog to one side. I'm also considering opening up this blog to all my friends and family soon, so they can keep track of my life when I get to Sydney. I'm in two minds as I enjoy the anonymity and regular purging exercise I get from releasing all my thoughts and rants into the cyberworld. We shall see.

I have a musical to write and other writing to start and my new shiny white beacon of an iMac seems to be inviting me to use it solely for Facebook and porn. There are far too many diatribes on the passive nature on owning a computer to be included in this entry, so I will leave those for another time.

Moving to Australia is a thrilling and terrifying prospect. I'm currently facing a big chalkboard which has lots of intricate scribblings all over it which I've accumulated over the years and now stand poised with one of those eraser blocks in my hand, waiting to wipe it all off in one smooth swipe. I want to start a fresh new scribble and I'm hesitating, as hover over my life in London just one more time admiring everything I've achieved, I know deep down I'm not really losing anything it's just the action that terrifies me. I suppose this feeling is natural to someone starting a new chapter and many of my friends are envious of the freedom I have before me. I will however truly miss this moment in my life as it is rich and I have a lot of good things going on in my life right now. It's so predictable how making this decision has made me appreciate what and who I have in my life right now. Clichés that rear their ugly heads in fiction and in other people's lives are now making a long overdue appearance in mine. A comforting thought perhaps?