Chicken and egg

It's only been two nights since I left the Pilbara and already I'm missing the place. Or is it merely that I've begun to dislike Sydney? When I was 12, it took around 20 minutes to get home to my parents' place. On Friday, it took around 40, and it often felt like we were driving through an obstacle course or a construction work theme park. I guess spending your time in Canberra and Hedland over the past 3 years makes you less immune to large concentrations of cars and roadworks… No, there’s more to it than that.

The Pilbara was a taste of life based more on principle and conviction than money and expedience, real or imagined (the expedience part… ok, maybe the money too!). And yet I still struggle to sleep at night. My conscience hasn’t yet been satiated.

I’ve been offered a job back in Canberra. And although it will help fatten the experience column on my CV, I really don’t want to return. Canberra is a dreadful place. It is a dreadfully peaceful, comfortable, circularly straight place.

Last night on the dance floor, I kind of realised that I’ve deliberately avoided doing what I really feel like doing.* Which, at this stage in my life, is merely freewheeling through life, venturing out of my comfort zone, and trying to comprehend what I ‘see’. Intense socialisation has convinced me to maintain a connection with the status quo through my career choices, so as to ensure that I keep up with the Joneses. In short, I’m too caught up in treating life like one big set of assessments which requires measured, if uninspired planning akin to the eugenics programs that would no doubt have dominated European societies had Adolf Hitler decided not to invade the Soviet Union. But I digress.

I really don’t want to return to Canberra. And, for the time being, I really don’t want to work. Unless, of course, work allows me to retain my independence.

Tonight I went to a family friend's wedding. Thankfully, this one was a pretty quiet affair. I hadn't seen the groom, or his sister who has turned into something of a goddess, in nearly 15 years. My parents hit the dance floor as soon as the banghara got going which was nice to see. No doubt tonight will be all the more surreal for the fact that next week I’ll be on a plane at some god forsaken time, on some cramped economy class seat, heading towards Cairo and thence Tel Aviv.

* To make matters worse, whilst I was deep in my thoughts I managed to completely ignore this cute girl who was strutting her stuff right next to me.