Further Down The River

“I’m floating down a river

Oars freed from their holds long ago

Lying face up on the floor of my vessel

I marvel at the stars

And feel my heart overflow

Further down the river..”

Its spring time and all I want to do is float along the breeze.

I have this beautiful dream where I drift along the Mekong under a cloudy sky, while the warm wind rustles through the reeds and across my skin. I’m looking forward to a time when I can escape and rest, do nothing but enjoy the natural scene around me and find some peace. Alone.

I’ve never felt the need to run away before, but lately it’s all I can picture. I’m sick of my suburb, sick of the city, sick of the same things all the time. I don’t feel connected enough to what’s around me and I want to explore new scenes. I want to paint different landscapes in my head to remember wistfully when I grow up.

It strikes me as unusual, I never cared much for travel before. I liked visiting countries but I was always the first to get homesick. Today the idea of packing up my things and moving to Sydney, Surfers Paradise or Saigon seems like heaven. Have a goodbye party, wish my family the best and start again somewhere the sun shines more often. Somewhere I can work a silly job for enough money to cover my vodka and hangover food, that still leaves me with the energy to focus on writing completely.. for once.

“I dig my toes into the sand

The ocean looks like a thousand diamonds

Strewn across a blue plain

I lean against the wind

Pretend that I am weightless

And in this moment I am happy..”

Six months ago, the tarot reader told me that he thought I was disconnected from my course, that it wasn’t something I enjoyed or learned much from. At the time I smiled & nodded, but privately believed he was wrong. My subjects weren’t the best, but I knew it was the path I had to take to get where I wanted to go. But now.. he was so right. I hate my course. I’m doing units purely to make up the points for the paper, not because they’re teaching me anything I particularly want to learn. I already aced the subjects I thought were interesting and now I’m left with filling the requirements of my second major with subjects that mean nothing to me. I could care less about media audiences! I don’t give a shit about the culture of corporations! I don’t even like children, so why am I studying their texts?!

What does this degree mean to me? I’ve always hated that it concentrated more on the structure of writing than the craft. I want something more detailed and in-depth, something that actually excites me to learn about. I want workshops and weekly articles, I want to know what makes a good sentence and what is better left out. I’m tired of shutting up and making do, putting in the hard slog for an achievement that I don’t see any merit in.

So what should I do? Find a better course? Disengage from university and try harder to get something real happening? A freelance career or whatever? Stick it out for these last 8 or so months and just push through the painful parts? My dad would be so disappointed in me if I quit. His face is the only thing stopping me from running away and going it alone. But it’s not his life, it’s mine. And I’m not so doting that I would endure it simply to please him. Or am I?

“My biggest fear will be the rescue of me

Strange how it turns out that way, yea..

Can you show me dear

Something I’ve not seen?

Something infinitely interesting..”

I want to be out there doing something! I hate these stupid assignments, they have nothing to do with what I envision myself partaking in as a journalist. And the worst part is that I’m planning to go back to that insufferable job again this summer, to try and make enough money to last through another uni semester, which means that if I’m not too drained from boring assignments to write, then I will be too drained from the data entry work! Thus continuing the cycle of no inspiration, no motivation, no drive or energy to write pieces that are meaningful.

I hate that my blog is neglected, it’s the only piece of me that I’m really proud of, and its falling away to some kind of misguided attempt at gaining social status. I want to write posts that are beautiful and inspiring, I want to further my technique and see where I’m going wrong and learn something that will be of value to me. I want to move forward, but all I’m doing is drifting further behind. This blog is the only thing that should be important, it’s the only real chance I have of progress, and I’ve been throwing it away. It’s no wonder I’ve felt so lost and depressed. I always thought I was the type of person who put her passion first, but evidently I have not been.

I’m miserable when I can’t write. And I have been miserable for so long, pushing this away with the idea that I was doing what I had to, to get back to where I wanted. But it’s right here, and I can’t allow myself to take it due to this overpowering need to avert ‘failure’. My parents will think I’m giving up. Why does it matter so much to me what they think? I’m the one who lives my life, I’m the one who knows what I have to do to get ahead. I’m so tired of being too tired to write. It honestly shatters me. Can you imagine the feeling of not being able to do the one thing you truly loved?

Failure, failure, failure.. I have to change something.

“I’m building an antenna

Transmissions will be sent when I am through

Maybe we could meet again

Further down the river

And share what we both discovered

Then revel in the view

Further down the river..”

Tags: blog, education, failure, incubus, life, mekong, passion, river, run away, saigon, spring, university, writing