108. Nothing to write home about.

That is the reason it has been almost a month since I've written. 
Two part problem: "Nothing" and "to write home". 

The nothings I have: No friends. No hair straightener. No girl's nights. No birthday parties. No family reunions. No car. No concerts with my sister. No BBQ's with my brothers. No goals. No s'mores. No money. No purpose. No idea what to do next. No answer to, "How is Australia?" or "How long will you be around?" No real conversations. 

So many nothing conversations and nothing days. I meet new people daily but have the same conversations with them all. They start with applauding me for being young and adventurous, then ask me how I like it. I keep it as generic as possible. Once I get past my explanations, how I met my boyfriend, what I did back home, what I plan to do here... we spend the last part of our interaction shitting on America: our accents, our healthcare, our education and gun obsessed Christian loonies. It exhausting to try to belong when deep down, you know it isn't where you want to be. Even though you want to want it. Some people say that a lack of interest is a sign of depression... but don't worry, it's just the nothing.

Then writing home... well it just reminds me of everything I am missing. I can't live in two world at once, one world always suffers. I could spend all day writing and reading and lapping up the details of the day-to-day life of whatever I am missing. That's honestly what I want to do. But then I am not  living in either world. Home tells me to stick to it, the happy part will come. Home tells me it will always be there. Home tells me it misses me. Home is each tear that I cry trying to find its way back.  Home sounds like Janis Joplin, Tina Turner and people remembering to talk in to your right ear. 

I am amazed I've been here 108 days. With each pay day I think to myself how I could leave the next morning and drink a bottle of wine on the front porch with my mom. But something on my walk home from work makes me smile, and I decide to try to fall in love with Sydney again tomorrow... until the next pay day comes. I think that's what living anywhere is all about, trying to make your nothing days into something days.

Object permanence.. knowing that when you open your eyes, everything will still be there, just the same as when you closed them. I just want to open my eyes to a life I recognize. Where I had friends close by and restaurants don't close so early in the city and there weren't so many opinions about what to do next with your life. 

This Billy Joel song found me three days ago, it burrowed a place in my chest and has stayed there, reminding me to breathe. I'm not sure why I find it so comforting or inspiring, but much like my dad, I've played it on repeat since then.  What is waiting for me?