November reading (and pining)

Last night I confessed to a friend that I didn't feel listened to... because I rarely told anyone how I truly felt. I'm excellent at getting people to open up to me, but my closest confidante for years was my psychologist. And now I don't have one. 

That may be about to change, as I seek the help I daydream about. So far I've been too scared to seek such an intimate emotional encounter anew. But I know I will reach out... eventually. I can see that time coming. 

This evening I listened to the author of 'The Golden Maze', Richard Fidler, discuss various refrains and riddles that echo in his head as he reflects on the city of Prague. I may hunt down this volume and be transported to a place that is simultaneously familiar and not: Czech Republic, on the other side of Eastern Europe to where I grew up, a place I have been amazed at and repulsed (or should I say alienated) by. In other words, a place worth revisiting. 

About two years ago I listened to the 'Saga Land' audiobook, a previous project of Fidler's and I was impressed by his capacity for research, and powers of empathy - except, of course, in relation to the feminist project. Fidler may be the least feminist of the authors I've read in recent years. Nevertheless, it's an accomplished Australian who takes the leap over to the European continent and tells me something new about its soul. (Reading is not endorsement of every part of the writer's psyche, after all.)

I'm also waiting on 'All who live on islands' by Rose Lu, a queer New Zealander of Chinese heritage who I hope will shed light on the subcultures one might become acquainted with in Australia's most culturally similar neighbour. 

While I wait, there's Simone de Beauvoir's 'The Second Sex'. It's not the easiest read, but it's offered some existentially themed insights so far, and I hope it will again.

Options, Options, Options

Biden won, the Pfizer vaccine was announced, and I got a new laptop - all in the course of a week. 

Newly be-PC'ed, I recall many nights of searching the sky blue background on a Microsoft Word document for the words that would make it all OK. I remember not to limit my search for psychologists to Sydney, because, with Skype or Zoom, the world is my oyster. It's possible there is a Swedish or Nordic psychologist marketing herself as feminist, and I can absorb her unconscious values alongside her bold, conscious strides, as she shows me how to improve my self-care practices. 

The future is as 'up in the air' as always, though I have to be honest with myself and admit that moving to New Zealand doesn't elicit a 'Hell Yeah' response. (According to Derek Sivers, if something's worth prioritising, it comes with a strong positive response.) So I don't know what I'm going to do. And I'm going to live with that uncertainty for now. 

Thinking about existential burdens of freedom lately... the moment I consider committing to a long-term project, I eat away at my conviction until it collapses. Coach Xena Jones says 'Everything you want is on the other side of discomfort.' I have a feeling my insecurities will continue to be in the driver's seat until I pay for good help. 

Here are some ideas I have for possible long-term projects:

- Write a book

- Become fluent in a language (other than English or Bulgarian)

- Lose weight and keep it off by changing my diet permanently

Even writing more often on this blog would be grand. It would be a stepping stone to the discipline required to write a super long-form text. I could keep myself accountable through documenting my progress in language learning, and/or reaching a healthier diet. 

Here are some thoughts I have on each of those goals:

- I have a book idea (too nascent to share)

- I know I want to learn either Spanish OR Swedish OR Finnish OR French

- I know I can reduce my portions long-term (because I've done it in the past)

If I were advising myself I would say: Pick just one goal. Consider which would be the most beneficial, all things considered. Is the prospect of making money through a book more compelling than being able to move to Finland or Sweden? Is creating a healthier physicality a bigger boost than the above?

Do I trust myself to be honest with a psychologist, so that they can help me organise all these random can-do impulses?

Can I be more honest with myself?

Pressure from close ones / New Zealand on the radar

You know how sometimes you just want to relax and not have to defend yourself to anybody?

Today my mum started with a theme she has started in the last two years (ever since I voiced my intention to remain childfree), which is that I will miss out on the "joys" of the standard route in life - that is, settling down with a man and having children. 

It just goes to show how out of touch my mum is. I've been pursuing a strategy of nonconformity wherever possible since my teenage years. It makes me happy to pursue relationships with women or non-binary people, and retain my childfree lifestyle. I may be friends with a few select heterosexual men, but the idea of being in any "standard" hetero arrangement is a non-starter. 

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Early 2019 saw me spend a couple of nights in Wellington, where I was trying to investigate New Zealand's suitability for long-term dwelling. 

Given that I'm obsessed with the Nordics, you'd think it'd be a no-brainer: learn Swedish properly and move to Sverige or Suomi. 

But after years of learning Spanish on and off, I have language learning fatigue. That, and the likelihood of guaranteed Seasonal Affective Disorder 4-5 months every year has me rethinking that strategy. 

New Zealand, meanwhile, proved its remoteness and good governance in their Covid eradications. They say that future novel pandemics are very likely, meaning that NZ will be an even better place to be in the future. And the legal pathway to Kiwi citizenship is uncomplicated for Aussies. 

I've also noted that NZ has scored higher on the Global Gender Gap Index than Australia for years. I noticed a readiness to take women more seriously while I was there. 

So I have Dunedin within my sights... eventually. Unless something unexpected happens to make me re-evaluate. Which, well, anything can happen. 

Affirmations

Yesterday's post was a pity party of sorts. I had to get it off my chest, or perhaps clear the muck out of the way so I can appreciate what I have. 

I've been doing a lot of reading: I finished my fourth book this month, which I personally think is wonderful. I am brimming over with renewed faith in intellectual discourse. 

I'm trying hard to take my mind off all the travel I'm not doing. The Korean Film Festival opened today, and I was transported to another world for 100 minutes. 

The only kind of comparison I want to make is between present Epiphanies and past Epiphanies. I have grown in compassion in the last six years. I have become more tolerant of people of colour whose backgrounds I'm not as closely familiar with as those of Asian origin. I'm more clear on how I want to present in the world. 

A reviewer claimed that Susan Sontag's work, 'At the same time', is "excruciatingly white." I could see that coming. Sontag was of an older generation, but when you look at people like Gloria Steinem and the effort she puts in to showcase the achievements of women of colour, you realise that it can be done. And that many people, intentionally or out of ignorance, choose to opt out of a deeper understanding of what it means to be the descendant of colonisers (or simply the beneficiaries of white supremacy). 

It makes sense then, that my next book is 'Girl, Woman, Other' by Bernardine Evaristo. I'm already 10% through and it's a pleasure to be reminded of the antiracist truths I have to keep drumming into my head because so much of the background noise of life is all blaring white supremacist overtones. 

On Wednesday I wonder

I've spent much of the last few hours ingesting Susan Sontag's 'At the Same Time' - a title which seems to allude to the multiplicity of the truths she insisted on. At this point I'm tired of her headstrong presence, but perhaps it's also the medication change of yesterday that is colouring my world lacklustre. 

I've identified within myself a dissatisfaction with my occupational status. The sensible parts of me that conjure up my steady learning, and point out the pointlessness of interpersonal comparison, seem weak. Voracious is the voice that claims I haven't achieved my potential. 

Despite my knowing very well deep down that a university pathway will just introduce me to stress, frustration and anger, I long for the symbolic 'piece of paper' which offers the most straightforward route to employment in the literary world. Rejoice I might at people like Glen James of the top podcast 'My Millenial Money' who has reached affluence despite the odds, my lack of drive seems to condemn me to a lifetime of living with my parents and suffering the emotional and mental consequences. 

Having done things my way for so long, I am ill-equipped to meet the needs of the higher education maw, which quite a few ppl other than me believe educates people out of the highest degree of nonconformity. The current academic disciplinary divisions also leave me high and dry, for it's at the very intersections of literature and politics that I like to live. 

Lately I've downloaded an Anthropology podcast where interviews with authors take place, and I've been transported from an initial attempt to transform South Korean immigration policy into something befitting a newly multicultural state, a movement which hasn't made much headway, to how practitioners of an ancient form of dance in Sri Lanka use the movement to resist the harshness of armed conflict. 

I don't really want to be interviewed so much as I want to be closely co-conspired with. I want a friend who respects me, whom I respect, and have fun with. Not just around the world - in Sydney. 

Crinkled Leaves

Like rediscovering an old book

Freshly fluent in the language of your mind

It reads, as you 

Tune in to its frequency

Somebody said they regretted

Not learning a foreign language

And I found myself smiling

At opportunities lying in wait

The book is a translation

Of a language quickly fading

From your memory, yet

Echoes of it animate your dreams

You'll probably never recover

Knowledge previously gained

But there's variety to savour

No two syllables the same

The richness of your interiority

Only multiplies anew

With every fresh, new day

You make a better you

To Stay Sane & Grow

The Greek-Australian Christos Tsiolkas said something that resonated with me on an ABC podcast - whatever his connection to Greece (and the EU project), when the shit hit the fan, it was Australia that called him back and had a place for him. Likewise, I too felt comforted and soothed by the protections in place in this country of which I am a citizen. I felt lucky that I hadn't followed up on my impulse to travel to Taiwan in March/April. Somehow I felt safe by virtue of being randomly stuck in a remote corner of the universe where the infections failed to proliferate. This counting of my blessings has stayed with me. 

Still, I found it hard to be unaffected by the sheer scale of the suffering. I don't know anyone personally who has died or is deeply ill, but as I watch the people around me move their strides speak of grief, loss, even trauma. No-one is unscathed by the as-yet-unfolding tragedy. 

Long ago, no one had space to hold my trauma. So I feigned lightness. It was a survival mechanism, but I want to reconnect with my deeper sense of self after all these years. Feel the feelings. Work through them. 

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Finding ways: It's my specialty. 

I am interested in adding more variety to my life, though I don't know how to do it. Maybe going back to karaoke rooms in the city would be a good idea? Sydney recorded zero cases today. Reinforce my Spanish knowledge on Duolingo (maybe finally master the 'personal a')? Hire a language tutor on italki?