War In My Head

Somewhat halfway through the first month of the new year and ten days since being back in Melbourne, nothing seems to have changed much though. I still do the things I have been doing and going to the places that I have been going, ‘cept of course, now I have one more pretty important (and painful) thing to do, and that is apartment/flatmate-hunting. I must say it’s one thing I don’t enjoy doing, as I have mentioned before. It may sound like an easy task for some, but easy it certainly is not for me. It’s a fatal combination of finding the right place with the right price, scooting around inspecting places, fighting with others for keys and dealing with realos who are less-than-competent with a perpetual cbf-ed attitude. I hate to make it an issue but truly, this whole jazz is stressing me out a fair bit, and I have to admit I haven’t had much enthusiasm for work lately too. It’s all a bit much, and I s’pose for this time, drowning myself in work will not help at all. Although I have more than a month left in my current place, I still feel a bit panicky. Plus the fact that I will be going away for a week in February for a protein conference, I just have to try much harder.

I must say I am still in a holiday mood of sorts since coming back. I s’pose that’s pretty normal for me whenever I get back from a relatively long break, but I know I just have to snap out of that mood soon, it’s not doing me any good. I need to get my drive and inspiration back that I had before. I am trying to subject myself to new experiences in order to get some mental stimulation. I could start by looking for a place in a new suburb or sharing a place with total strangers or try to stay on my own again or try a book by a writer who is new to me. I know it takes a fair bit of courage to try taking on any of these options. Yes, even the seemingly simple option of trying out a new author. This may sound totally weird, but I have been doing Hemingway and Salinger for so long (and so often) that it’s not easy at all to get ‘acquainted’ with someone new. I need to form this bond and understanding with an author through his ideas and words in order to enjoy his works, and I can totally feel that way with Hemingway and Salinger. Hence I can re-read their books year after year (in fact, I am doing ‘Farewell To Arms’ now for the nth time after finishing Nine Stories last week) and instead of getting bored, I fall deeper and deeper into them.

Yes, I can be obsessed like that. Not just for books, movies and music (which I have mentioned countless times before, especially the aspect on music I reckon), but for someone whom I have a good feeling for too. Does that sound scary? Am I over-doing it? Or am I just a hopeless romantic? (which by the way, will be a total contradiction to my cold-bastard self). I don’t know. For once, I reckon I need someone to tell me that. A friend once told me that when I start paying attention to and believing in words in a song (which I bloody do), then that means I am done for and can be considered a hopeless romantic. Damn, could that be true? Have I changed in that aspect too? Can I stop thinking about that person? Will I have the courage to pursue it?

My mind is definitely over-working at the moment.