We can’t wait til tomorrow

Things I have emailed to my colleagues the last two days:

“I am going to fucking stab someone.”

“Here it is. And tell her to go jump off a bridge.”

“Again? Honestly.”

“Really, sort your life out!”


I am a consummate professional. Yup.


Music: Runaways – The Killers


You’re gonna miss me when I’m gone

I’ve been listening to this song on repeat for most of today. No idea why. Can’t seem to stop. Send help!

Racing shadows in the moonlight
Through the desert on a hot night
And for a second there we’d won

Don’t ever tell anybody anything

That’s the whole trouble. You can’t ever find a place that’s nice and peaceful, because there isn’t any. You may think there is, but once you get there, when you’re not looking, somebody’ll sneak up and write “Fuck you” right under your nose. Try it sometime. I think, even, if I ever die, and they stick me in a cemetery, and I have a tombstone and all, it’ll say “Holden Caulfield” on it, and then what year I was born and what year I died, and then right under that it’ll say “Fuck you.” I’m positive, in fact.

The Catcher in the Rye – J.D. Salinger

Keep making me smile

Bit of a sad panda today.

It’s all mostly because I found out last week that my company wouldn’t be able to sponsor my visa and the reality of that is just now starting to hit me hard. I mean, it was always on the cards. It was the smallest of hopeful chances. And I’ve had it in my mind that I’d have to leave in January for a while…but I guess I just didn’t really want to let myself believe it was happening until the hammer fell.

It just seemed particularly cruel when I was searching for jobs back in Oz during lunch. I really enjoy my job, I’ve worked damn hard to get myself in a position where I was able to do things I found challenging and interesting…and not strictly part of my job description. I like to think I’m good at it too. So it’s just really painful to read all these job descriptions for banal boring jobs with banal boring companies when there’s a job I’m perfectly capable of doing sitting in front of me. I’m just not allowed to do said job. So. Effing. Painful.

I don’t want to do something I don’t enjoy or find interesting. I don’t want to get stuck in another job that makes me miserable. I want to finish the things I started here. I want to keep working with my friends. I just…I want what I have. Is that really so much to ask for?

Apparently, yes. So now here I sit. With nine weeks to go and no future plans. Well done, self, excelling at organisation as always. PhD it is then. If I can get myself sorted enough to actually write an official proposal.

It just…hurts. Losing it all. The job, my really awesome flatmate, a friendship group that is everything I could ever have asked for, interesting experiences, access to so many things…a life. This whole, fully formed, wonderful, challenging, vexing, enticing life that I’ve built for myself. Gone. Just like that.

I know, I know. You’re thinking it’s not that bad. You can keep in touch with people. It’s not the same though. Some people you can have that kind of relationship with, but others aren’t used to it, can’t maintain it. And it’s not like I’m just leaving the company and we can all still hang out. I’ll come back, what, maybe once a year? I’ll only be able to move back in three years, at the earliest. That’s a long time. A lot can change. People can change. Look at me, I’m so different from the girl who first boarded that plane in Sydney almost two years ago.

I’m under no illusions here. There’s no way I can keep what I have. I’ll lose everything. And I don’t really know how to process that.

Music: Modern Love – Bloc Party