Journals

I don't like writing journals very much. I think that it's very easy for them to become selfish things that contain a lot of information people don't really need to hear. I even wonder, sometimes, about the point of an "online diary". Aren't the two terms an oxymoron to begin with?

I'm not sure what's dragged me back here tonight. It's almost 11pm, I haven't posted in months, I'm in the second night of two week's worth of digging out at Tambo (which, I have to admit, is pretty beautiful), and I guess I'm a little lonely. Annie, Jo, and Tim are great company, and great to work with, but staying in hotel rooms wears off after a little while. The only familiar things I have in the room are my clothes, stuffed into my weekend bag, and my laptop. That thought alone is a little depressing.

Come to think of it, there have been less and less familiar things around me over the past couple of weeks.
Dad, Di, Nae and I moved into the new house. Getting to sleep in a room without windows- pitch black and full of new sounds and smells- scares me a little. I keep imagining ghosts lurking in every (non-existant!) shadow in the room.
I'm applying for Ph.D candidature at scary places like Edinburgh and Oxford, and that brings the promise of even more unfamiliar things- a new country, new culture (because, yes, Australian culture- Australian /immigrant/ culture, especially, -is- different from the UK), new people- new life.
More and more of my friends have left for other places- Helen at Oxford, Ellie at King's. Carrie in Thailand. Alex at the old street. Cris is probably going to Alice Springs. Jean and Robyn... I hope they're sticking around!
I'm still waiting on my second thesis examiner to return his report, and with that, my mark for my MA. I'm surprised at just how much I'm worrying over a single number. The waiting is invading every waking and sleeping moment- dreams about what I'm going to get? It's difficult to follow Inger's advice and see it as a recommendation, when it's so important for things like scholarships and Ph.D places.

I've always been a creature of habit, and I don't like the fact that there's so much uncertainty.

Oh, God. I'm going to regret having spilled all this in the morning.

Until then, I'm going to post a picture of the view from our balcony at Metung, get some sleep, and hope for more sanity in the morning.

P.S. My face is sunburned. I thought it was some reaction to this new soap I've been using, but Annie says that it definately looks like sun. I also realise, at this point, just how bad I am at writing journals- much less coherent ones.