One thing I’ve never quite mastered is the art of making an entrance. I’m a bit too conscious and a bit too critical; the poise of such drama escapes me.
It’s been surprisingly difficult to find the time, the energy, and the inspiration for a big, juicy comeback entry for you all to chew on. Suck on? Is that too dirty?
First, there’s the culture shock I keep holding my breath for, the shock I never got when I moved to New York City, but which I kept expecting for months after I’d moved in. I keep thinking this time I’ll get it, this time I’ll be shaken by the differences.
Though my friends are resembling little aching gaps in my life which hurt dreadfully at times, thus far, culture shocked I am not.
Then there’s the nitty gritty, the thousand-and-one administrative items of moving to a new country. Every day I cross a few off, and every day more come piling on. Bank accounts, cell phones, Internet access, furniture. Where can I get a good cheeseburger at 4am? Does this city even understand the concept of mozzarella sticks?
Then, there’s the psychic weight of everything I’ve missed here online. Would you like to know how loquacious you are, my sexy friends? In the three weeks that I have been primarily offline, you have managed to push 984 new items through my RSS feeds. 984. For bonus points, I’d like to dare you to guess how many of those items belong to Richard.
The concept of catch-up is at this point laughable.
And finally, there’s all that tricky expectation. There’s the nagging thought in the back of my mind that I should manage a piece both delicious and spectacular, that in the months since I’ve seriously written here I should have garnered something that would make for a good re-entrance. I do have plans, to write about Sydney’s Mardi Gras and queer spaces and the visual representations of gender and power (again.) Also about the last play party in New York, the flesh and the screams and the sock monkey pajamas.
I am dreadfully out of practice. My narrative voice has gone all rusty and tangled, leading me down rapid tangents and far too eager to abandon me.
May and I spent the first week and a half here stressed out of our minds. We barely ate. We couldn’t stop fighting. We were staying in a tiny hostel room with bunk beds, going slowly mad from the nightly separation of skin and flesh. Now we’re in another hostel, another tiny room with bugs on the floor and our things in haphazard piles, but with a double bed that is devious and enchanting. I am having trouble waking up in the mornings, some sort of weird jet-lagged throwback.
I get caught up in the nasal reverberation of Australian voices. The coffee is better, the food is too expensive, the wind is warmer, the ocean is closer. The wireless options are pathetic. The grass is amazing.
Sydney is, as I remembered it, a fabulous city. But it’s also a real city, a home. That means it has quirks, disappointments, secrets, tricks that I have yet to master. There is a part of me that thought this move would be easy. Simple. The physical logistics of the adventure have been slow and frustrating, but they’re manageable. They’re working.
That part of me focused on the physical logistics with such ferocity that the all thoughts of emotional health were smudged out. Truth be told, I am a little lost. Perhaps more than a little. Perhaps my life has been through one too many massive upheavals in the past three months.
But lost or found, shocked or not, consider this my self-conscious, rambling, entirely pointless and decidedly undramatic re-entrance. I am online again.
17 Comments
For bonus points, I’d like to dare you to guess how many of those items belong to Richard.
It’s my contention that Richard, himself makes up 10% of any given kink population.
Glad to have you back.
Have you gotten used to walking upside down, yet?
Yay! You’re back. The net missed you. It told me so. I missed you too, but I already told you that the other day :)
Hey, I’m glad to see you back. It sounds like you’re having an adventure. I think “culture shock” is usually not so much a shock as more like a series of mild pains as you find different things slightly more difficult or confusing than usual.
Anyway, welcome back to the Internet!
I’m glad that you got settled, we missed you.
Yay - you’re back. Alive and well, no less, either.
It’s good to have you back, and everyone noticed your entrance.
Oh, and… it’s about time you both had an orgasm :)
Welcome back!
*glances at sidebar* You need an orgasm. Or several.
So good to hear from you! We hope that things get better settled for you as soon as possible, and then expect all kinds of goodies in the mail *^_~* Thank you for updating us~
Hey you were gone or something ????
So glad to see your post this morning! I have missed your and Maymay’s posts. Hopefully things will settle down a little bit more (a bigger bed definitely sounds like it helped!).
Singing the Welcome Back Kotter theme: Welcome back welcome back welcome baaaaaaaaaack.
Welcome
to my side of the worldback! Who needs to big entrance? I’m just delighted to see you posting again :)xx Dee
I’m glad to hear you’re still around and doing well — I’ve missed “A Place to Draw Blood’s…” updates something fierce.
I think maybe the emotional upheaval - the lostness - is as good a thing as any to label “culture shock”. It’s the little differences that can set you back on your heels to a surprising extent.
Sounds like you’re starting to settle in, though. And nice to see you back updating :)
Thanks, everyone.
Re: the orgasm logger thing, not only have I been a real slouch about updating, but as you’ll see if you go log in to the site, May’s absence from NYC makes maintaining the database a real challenge for him. So sometimes it’s down, sometimes it’s up, and in the end I just don’t update enough to make it relevant at the moment, so I’ve taken it down.
The feeling of being “lost” is, I suspect, partially cultural. In the end, I’m simply lonely. I miss my friends and my life. I don’t think that’s precisely the same, but the two are probably closely linked together.
Hooray! Glad to see you back online!
I know you’re just dying for more to read on the internets, so I got a new blog.
Miss you, lovely.
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