Wednesday, August 17, 2011

I long

There’s so much crap going on in my head that there’s very little room for me. I’ve gone from not being able to sleep from wanting to sleep pretty much all the time. If I had my way I’d be sitting here right now with my feet on my desk, my office chair tilted back in a way that completely contradicts all OH&S regulations, my resting head at some impossibly angle completely defying medical science while snoring away happily. Apparently that kind of thing is frowned upon and since I work in an open office it’d be impossible to hide. There’s under the desk but I’m not all that fond of the carpet we have in our office…

I need a little rest. Perhaps I need more than a little rest. Right now it would be completely OK to take a long break and sod off right out the city I have come to feel less and less happy about living in because of the rudeness of the people in it and the bloody noise that won’t even stop. Recently I realized that there’s not a day going by when I don’t here sirens. It never used to be that way. Either emergency services used to speed quietly through the city in the past hoping that people would see them even if they weren’t making a racket or the inhabitants of this fair city have found infinite more ways to hurt, threaten and kill themselves and others.

I’m not sure it’s even Sydney’s fault or even the people who inhabit it. It’s just that I’ve come to the realization that this place just isn’t pleasant enough for me. The constant running around and the constant noise is beginning to slowly drive me up the wall and it’s fraying my nerves. I long for a more quiet existence, one that’s simpler and that moves at a slower pace.

You see, I grew up in small town, nestled in a Swedish pine forest that was scattered with freshwater lakes in which little yummy fish live. I grew up close to such a lake and even though pollution from what was then referred to as “the Eastern Block”, because this was when we still had the Cold War (why was this war the Cold War I’ve always wondered), made the lakes acidic and therefore the crayfish very uncomfortable but it was still very idyllic. In winter we skated on the ice and fished the lake. In summer we swam and fished the lake. It was all very simple. (I have of course almost forgotten about how long the darkness lasts when the rains start in September, and then October's winds and more rain with the customery drowning of the landscape in November's sleet as the days become shorter and darker…until that one day in spring after an eternity in darkness a small flower breaks through the snow to let you know that spring will spring very soon.)


I spent half my life in that place by the lake nestled in the forest and the rest I spent here in the hustle and bustle of the big city. My soul longs for the old way of life where I don’t have to worry quite so much about time. Time has become my enemy. Now I don’t have time to read a book. Then I used to count how much time I had to read a book and I would plough through one in just days and lose myself completely in a story created masterfully seemingly just for my pleasure. If I got bored with reading I would knit jumpers or draw. Are we sure that the days aren’t in fact shorter now than they were 15-20 years ago? It certainly feels like they are.

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