The return of the fat white Aussie

'Here am I, floating in my tin can
Far above the world
Planet Earth is blue and there's nothing I can do'
                                   'Space Oddity' David Bowie

Just checked the date of my last blog and seen that it was two weeks ago. Eeeee where does the time go!!

Since last going bloggy on your arse Sandy has written, collated, quadruple checked and lodged a permanent visa application and applied to study design with the Open University. You could say the second is a sign of faith in the first coming good.  The cynics will say it's putting the cart before the horse. I say if the horse is stubborn enough to push the cart and the RSPCA doesn't mind who's to say which should come first? Not me but then I am now in the odd position of not really knowing what hemisphere I'll be living in by Christmas so I'm bound to be a bit addled.

Realistically I don't think the Home Office will knock me back but it's the not knowing which has done my head in while writing, collating, checking and lodging.  A major flaw in my personality has emerged over the last couple of weeks. Well, it hasn't emerged because I always knew it was there but it's risen up in front of me, slapped me around a bit and told me to get a grip over the last fortnight.  I freeze in the face of uncertainty. Yep, the very moment when Sandy needs to get her shit together before it hits the fan, she wants to hide under the duvet, cover her ears and go 'lalalalalala' in the hope it all goes away and of course it doesn't, does it. Something else to work on. Hurrah!!

Anyhoo!! The application is in and now all I have to do is wait. That and try and keep the kindest man in the world, who isn't coping too well with all this, from deep despair or alternatively trying to start some kind of anti-Home Office revolution that will either land him in jail or wind up getting us both deported. Can't complain really as it shows he loves me and wants me to stick around.  Makes all the bullshit worthwhile, innit.

Since the application went in on Friday, along with mute terror at not knowing the outcome, I've felt a huge burden lift. I've done everything I can do and it's out of my hands now.  Time to get on with other stuff and live, dammit!!

Sandy is back!!!!!!

Not quite the return of the thin white duke, more the return of the fat white Aussie but I'm back and ready to push on with the self help malarkey and expanding my mind and my life and shrinking my arse.  OK so technically given my Australian Aboriginal heritage I'm not really white but let's not split hairs. It's the back part that counts.

Went to see hypno-dude last Saturday and we talked about me applying to the Open University to study design and he asked what my dream job would be afterwards.  I've been pondering that one since. Actually I've been pondering that probably since I was five and somebody first asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up.  One day, when I grow up, I might actually work out what that is.

Some people have a passion in life and make it their career and that's it, they're sorted. I am not one of those people.  I've had 'good' jobs and some of them even interested me but I can't say there's one overarching thing that I've wanted to do or be.  The thought of doing the same thing for the rest of my life actually kind of scares the shit out of me.  Am I flighty?? Or am I just too multi-talented to restrict myself to one field, har har. Pardon me while I spew, I just sounded like one of the Gen Y know it alls I so despise but you get my meaning.

Writing has always been an undercurrent that has carried me along in terms of interest and career and occasionally I have even made money out of it but stuffed if I know how you make it your life's work. Well, people do obviously, but I don't think there's a full time career to be had in massive rants about life and politics and trying to get your own shit together that doesn't also involve international infamy and a substance abuse problem.

What I need is a multi-faceted creative career that will allow me to write, create, design, rant and wear my Dr Martens to work.  It's a beautiful dream.  What that actually means is I probably need about three different jobs and a therapist on tap so I don't have a breakdown. Again.

The tension in me at the moment is that the artist who wants to be known as Sandy says just do the course and let your future evolve.  The hard-arsed pragmatist Sandy says you're 45 years old, you dipshit, how long do you want to evolve before you do something useful? Then there's money. The artist says money will work itself out. The hard-arsed pragmatist sings 'money, it's a hit, so don't give me that do-goody-good bullshit' along with Pink Floyd even though Pink Floyd are bollocks. Yeah, I said it. The kindest man in the world may be lodging divorce papers later.  That would solve the which hemisphere to live in question nicely.

I don't know what the answer is but can I at least have fun working it out? When I don't want to tear my own hair out at my grasshopper mind, that is.  Is that possible? Must be. I would say first thing is to not take myself or my life too seriously and I've got that down. I'm Aussie, for godzakes. Taking the piss out of ourselves is the core of our cultural heritage.

I might be floating along in an indeterminate residency status haze right now but there's plenty to be getting on with and sorting out and in the end all we have is today.  So with all the what is my destiny palava, must not forget that the foundation of whatever tomorrow we have is what we do today. Plan for tomorrow, live for now, or something.  Ask the question, work towards the answer, enjoy the journey. And celebrate the grasshopper mind.  At least life's never boring.