It’s been a while since I’ve written on here. I suppose I thought I stopped. This was supposed to be an exploration of my time in Peru, my journey learning in South America, an exploration of that foreign identity, and now I suppose I’ve given up on getting back.
I’ve been trying to tackle redundancy and my future. I tried writing for this blog post but it seemed too negative, and not relevant to the theme.
Okay. I’m not sure if I told you if I lost my job as a journalist six months or so ago in the murky months of Covid panic, but I did, and for most of that time since I’ve been stewing in the rental I leased alone. The lease ran out three weeks ago, and I decided to move to the big city…and close to the university I used to study at.
I’ve decided to return to uni. I’m 31. Maybe I might look like a confident 25 yr old but that’s neither here nor there. I’m going to study Government and International Relations because, in my months of doubt I wondered what the point of it all was. And I knew that one can never have too much education and if they have chances to further it then they should grab it. So I took an opportunity.
I want to represent Australia one day. I want to work in an embassy. But people keep assuming I’m going back to South American soon….and I’m apprehensive about that. I don’t think planning to do that is good for me.
I’m trying hard to keep a bright face in all of it, but it’s all fitting in for the short term. I’ve found a share house near the uni, I just received the refund for my return airfare to South America that was supposed to happen in April, and I may have a sweet prospective part-time job in the new year. We shall see.
Of course, being in the city again I couldn’t resist but join Tinder again although I knew it would be a mistake because one can easily lose sense of one’s own identity by doing it. There’s also someone I like who I didn’t meet on Tinder, and although I am starting to question the future in it and the timing and all of that, I really don’t need the murkiness or distractions of Tinder to complicate my hopes. But on the other hand I need the reminder I’m my own person with no commitments and the opportunity for new experiences.
And I had a special experience. I saw a Colombiana on Tinder and I super-liked her and although she was aloof for a bit she began to realise that I really was fascinated with Latam, and knew a little bit of Spanish. This afternoon our lengthy conversation on the app was in Spanish and it’s put me in a bad mood. I’ve taken a spanish lesson each week with a Colombian teacher on Skype, but this was real life, not practice, and it made me feel that I had learned so little when it mattered.
I’m troubled by the whole thing though. I really don’t want a latina fetish, and I guess I want to move away from my south american fascination. It’s getting in the way of my life. Somehow every new conversation I’ve had in 18 months drags back to it.
And yet here we are. I’m a more colourful character. I’m passionate. Yet despite popular opinion passion is not sexy or desirable. Passion is alienating, because before you know it you’ve walked away from everything and everyone that could have been relatable.