Earlier this week I attended a funeral of a man very inspirational to me who lived constantly outside the square. And I loved him for it. Because he showed me how a life could be lived when pushed up against a corner. Where I have so often found myself,caught up in other people's expectations of who I am and how I should live. So, when you're up in a corner, what do you do? You make the room a different shape.
The rollercoaster has started. For someone who generally doesn't deal with ambiguity very well, I'm sure as shit dealing with it now. I've quit my job as a business consultant in the city, or maybe I was fired, I'm still not too sure. But I chose something different to what my boss had in mind, and now I find myself starting a new business, moving house, leaving my home town and preparing for re-entry into country life. I'm waking at 4 am, going to bed at 8.30. Swimming at 5am. My body clock is shot, in shock finding new rhythm. I'm not wildly excited, because I've done all this before and I hate packing.
Yet, I'm ready for the next round, but this time, on my terms.
'Moving to the country. Gonna eat a lot of peaches...' such a good song. To sing in the car. While driving to WORK. Which I don't have any of as of the end of September. Breathe....
So the story to date is this. I own a small tin clad house in the tiny country town of Quorn, best known for Pitchi Richi railway, 4 pubs, 2000 people and just being generally a very chilled out and beautiful place to live in the Flinders Ranges. It's the retirement hot-spot for northern outback pastoralists, tradies with utes, dogs, and 2/3 times a year location scouts and film crew who wander through marvelling at the wide streets, the silence at night, the amazing yellow pastry pasites at the local IGA.
My house, known as 'Jimmy Cavenagh's place', was bought to end a relationship involving a great bloke with a great dog, both whom I loved very much but not enough, as it turned out, to stay. The plan is to go back to sell the house we renovated. Sell something I love. This is gonna be tough.
The rollercoaster has started. For someone who generally doesn't deal with ambiguity very well, I'm sure as shit dealing with it now. I've quit my job as a business consultant in the city, or maybe I was fired, I'm still not too sure. But I chose something different to what my boss had in mind, and now I find myself starting a new business, moving house, leaving my home town and preparing for re-entry into country life. I'm waking at 4 am, going to bed at 8.30. Swimming at 5am. My body clock is shot, in shock finding new rhythm. I'm not wildly excited, because I've done all this before and I hate packing.
Yet, I'm ready for the next round, but this time, on my terms.
'Moving to the country. Gonna eat a lot of peaches...' such a good song. To sing in the car. While driving to WORK. Which I don't have any of as of the end of September. Breathe....
So the story to date is this. I own a small tin clad house in the tiny country town of Quorn, best known for Pitchi Richi railway, 4 pubs, 2000 people and just being generally a very chilled out and beautiful place to live in the Flinders Ranges. It's the retirement hot-spot for northern outback pastoralists, tradies with utes, dogs, and 2/3 times a year location scouts and film crew who wander through marvelling at the wide streets, the silence at night, the amazing yellow pastry pasites at the local IGA.
My house, known as 'Jimmy Cavenagh's place', was bought to end a relationship involving a great bloke with a great dog, both whom I loved very much but not enough, as it turned out, to stay. The plan is to go back to sell the house we renovated. Sell something I love. This is gonna be tough.
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