I kinda tempted fate when I started the last post with “tomorrow might well feel different.”
Shit, trying to be all poetic & whimsy, & now you’ve jinxed it haven’t you because I’m absolutely friggin’ fried right now. Everything’s going tits up & its all just too much. I want to get off (oooh not that get off, though actually now that you mention it, an orgasm really might be quite beneficial around about now) No, I mean this darn rollercoaster, the steam roller of a choo choo train, with Sandra Bullock at the helm & Keanu clinging on. Ahhh Keanu, now there’s a specimen or should I say speciMAN, I’d happily get off with…
However, no one but myself to blame really, I’ve bitten off far more than I can chew but what else are you supposed to do when you are starting again from super scratch. There is everything to do & they all seem pretty important – find somewhere to live, create an income, kickstart your health (I’ve been coughing green chunks for nearly 3 months), make friends… Not to mention the regular stuff like feed & wash yourself, & work out how to navigate normal life in this stifling, humid-er than humid-er thick, dense air; rife with mozzies, pollution & sound of roaring motorbikes, roosters & prayers.
Oh yeah did I mention I’m in Bali?
See, I did check the weather report in Indonesia. The same day actually. Possibly even, within the first 30 minutes of exercising my new found mental freedom after Debbie’s non plussed reaction. (Edit: she has since text me to inform that far from indifference it was actually total devastation I was witnessing. Her exact words “there’s a hole where my sequins once shone.” Now that hits deep. Forgive me dear Deborah for ever thinking it could be anything but.)
The climate forecasty-thingmijig tells me I have a 6 week window after my notice period to hot step it across the planet before the rain comes-a tumbling down, monsoon style so that’s exactly what I do.
So now I’m here & its overwhelming AF. My body / brain / being triad can’t decide if its on holiday, starting a new life, or has actually died altogether & gone to some tropical limbo land awaiting judgement. I have a return ticket in just under 7 weeks & there’s the standard British pressure of; come back with a tan, make the most of it, see all the sights… but also being a week into no employment & my savings now in continuous decline I cant help but think about the next move. Is it here? If so I need to work out best location for me to live, then narrow down housing & negotiate a long term deal. I need to get to grips with the visa situation, get advice on all the basics, & not so basics, from other expats.
My head is constantly spinning. To make things worse after 8 months off the ‘gram where I didn’t give my social media presence even a second thought, I downloaded it to invite people to my leaving doo & before you know it I’m posting a little something about blimin’ Margarita Mondays & creating unnecessary polls to garner self esteem from wholly unsuitable oversized visor purchases & now I’m back in Zuckerberg’s grip.
My every move prefaced by a lingering thought to perhaps click capture on my camera. Being back on social media means my head is warped from information overload, heart wrenching news I really could do without knowing, the feeling of pressure to perform -because after all if you didn’t share it on your story did it even happen at all? It ends up occupying quite a large portion of my mind & after creating a reel describing my first 24 hours in Bali in a monotone voice I cant stop myself from narrating my every move in my mind with the same rhythmic bounce. I’m seeing life through the lens of entertainment again.
Everything has possibility of being shared & in that case I definitely better get the best angle & make a note of that funny thought pattern. My life becomes a panto, a caricature; one that I’m not fully living first hand. I get on peoples tits constantly asking for poses, even re-runs if I didn’t get the shot the first time. I become the person I detest. I want to enjoy it all, every breath, every moment but there’s a continual nag to get it on camera to capture the unexpected to share with people who frankly don’t really care & really should have better things to be doing with their time. Also I question why would I want to contribute to the gargantuan mess of unnecessary shit online – you are literally stealing peoples focus, that’s what social media is. A drain & I don’t want it.
Buuuuuut I do feel connected on there; with people I otherwise wouldn’t, many of whom I adore & I do feel less lonely… Also sometimes it thrusts me deeper into life because I fully jump in. Knowing I will likely share & spread more joy. Being active on social media can encourage more interactions & I’m more likely to act on my crazy yet intuition-led ideas. Plus the laughs! Its the reason I write! There is not much Jade wouldn’t do for the love of the LOL…
Fak it think I’ve just talked myself into pursuing my online persona. Hand me that tripod.
