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We were woken around six this morning
by some guy singing U2’s “I still haven’t found what I’m looking
for” outside our bedroom window. Big-P and I murmured bad
gags to one another – possible responses to shout out the
window – such as “go look somewhere else” or “what’s that
– a singing teacher?” ha ha.
But, you know, I totally sympathise.
Always looking, always trying to work out how to fill that
satisfaction hole.
Right now, I’m convinced that happiness
is attached to sorting out my career goals; get the perfect
job = perfect life.
The idea of a job has not always
been the answer to my woes. What I used to be looking for,
up until a momentous collision of souls back in ’96 when I
first clapped eyes on Big-P, was the perfect man. My god,
that was an epic adventure, of true Meg Ryan / Tom Hanks,
romantic-comedy type proportions. It took me years of dating
losers and bastards before totally giving up (and I mean completely).
After a yawning gap of abstinence (broken only by a crazy
one nighter) I met the lovely Big-P. Of course, he was entwined
in another relationship and our courtship was stalled… but
that’s another story. What I’m trying to say is, what I thought
was the big answer to the-meaning-of-life (and I seriously
dreamed of finding ‘the one’ for around a decade) is now sitting
on the couch watching “Great Train Journeys” and although
I am so deeply in love, and no longer wanting in that area,
I’m still wanting.
You know?
I have found a piece of paper that
I had to write in grade six and then it was returned to us
in year 12. Our teachers referred to it as a “time capsule”.
It’s pretty funny. I can remember
how I was then, nervous, vague, new girl at a new school.
All I wanted to do was build the biggest, most amazing doll
house the world had seen. I still had a security blanket and
sucked my thumb, and slept with my head under my pillow just
incase I would otherwise hear my parents having sex. My friends
were kissing boys, or at least, said they were kissing boys.
Their older brothers and sisters would tell us stories that
would blow our minds.
But I knew what I wanted, my little
self was on the brink of life, where there had been no failures,
yet, and no impossibilities, as my “time capsule” will attest:
What do you think of school?
At the moment school is good. I’m quite popular (I think).
Favourite
food Potatoes
Where
would you like to visit? San Francisco, because
the biggest doll house shop in the world is there.
One wish
To marry a millionaire, and to have be real nice (sic). Also
I would like to meet Boy George, Michael Jackson, Princess
Di, real spunky boy.
What
would you like for Christmas This year:
clothes and doll house stuff. In
1989: A car (red Porsche)
What
do you want to be? An art teacher or an illustrator.
I want to get married when I’m 26 and have three children.
Anything
else French is my worst subject, The War Song (Culture
Club) is my favourite song.
But I wasn’t wanting, (except for
loads of doll house furniture) probably because I just expected
it to all happen when I grew up. But that’s just not how it
is. Three children? Crikey!
I’m not very Zen, am I.
Xx
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