How much fear can we stand up to before we give in? How much fear can we take full frontal in the face - alone, before we need to find a soft landing to come home to every night. What fear is greater, this fear, this alone fear, this maybe there won’t be another lover fear - or the worse fear, the loss of love fear, the love dying after after 5, 10 however many years. Then there's the general loss fear, If I leave that job will I make the biggest mistake ever? If I try this, will I lose that? If I move on will I regret my loss? Which fear is the worst? Which fear do we fight and conquer, which one do we cower in front of and resign ourselves to?I want to write a life in greys , in confusion, with no ‘controlling idea’. I want to understand a complexity of feeling, a complexity of experience and articulate it. I don’t like or encourage dichotomy. I want to plumb the depths of a day, of this sunlight, of this emotion I’m feeling right now with pages and pages of words.In five years time none of this will matter. But what am I doing that matters anyway? Did those plays I wrote, 5 years ago - do they matter now? Did they matter to anyone? Where is my ‘matter’?I have some great necklaces, resin, orange, ruby red, pale greens and turquoise. I bought them at a sale in Melbourne. They’re sitting on my red table. The mess of colours, the transparency vs matte is alluring. My Year 12 copy of ‘Fly Away Peter’ dog-eared and scribbled in sits next to it with a post it note from my boss stuck to the front, saying how much she enjoyed the read. My year 12 notes written in pen on the inside margins talk of the mourning woman inside of the character failing to triumph over the woman on the outside who sees the sun and the waves and climbs the sand dunes towards them.My history, these hand written 16 year old quotes, these straw angels stuck to my bookshelf, these photos from TAFE, paint palettes, props from shows and furniture bought with someone else. It’s so confusing to me - all of it. How does this life I lead fit in with my history. A history that hasn’t travelled that far across the globe, but in my head is full of rich journeys. How can what I look like now, paired with what I have acquired, paired with the job I go to and the conversations I have on a daily basis communicate the sum of who I am?AWH SHUT THE FUCK UP AND HAVE A BEER SKANK
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