Home > writing life > old dogs, new tricks and a brand new lust for roughing it

old dogs, new tricks and a brand new lust for roughing it

I’m a definite kind of person.

I like black and white. Grey is shifty and clever, granted, but if I like something or someone. I like them. If I don’t, I have good reason.

So I guess I could blame the heat and the sunburn and the fact that I’m broke, unemployed and as of yet still haven’t a job where writing short stories will pay the rent. But I needed to get out of town. Smell different air. That perfect mix of forest and sea. The Great Ocean Road was calling. I was only introduced to it in my early twenties, as I didn’t grow up in the kind of family that went on holidays. We just moved house instead. Everything packed up. Friends. Toys. Clothes. Sometimes it was all left behind. I can’t remember every house. Or every school for that matter. But I do remember the last house I lived with my Mother. I would have been in grade four or five and it was the first time that I went camping.

It was one of those experiences that was so sad I told it for laughs. When stories get like that, you just have to laugh. But people always saw through. Makes me wonder how many comedians are depressed. Probably a lot. I eventually wrote a piece about it, because I was getting nagged by outdoorsy friends desperate too get me all wild and free out there.

I’ve put it back up on my Redbubble page in honour of this weekends roughing it here: reading between the lines.

But I guess you can either carry it around like a trophy or just get over it. So I did it. And it was incredible. Granted we stayed at one of those amazing Big4 caravan parks. Not only were there amenities and BBQs, but ping-pong. Hello, camping. Waking up to a hot summers morning and swimming in the wild surf made me glad I’m broke and unemployed. Sitting up late, talking with my boyfriend more than we’d talked in months while watching the stars. Smoking a joint and getting the campfire horror fear on the way to the toilet block with a torch.
The road rushing beneath us as we drove home, the wind getting in everywhere, messing up hair while I sang along loudly with David Bowie. It reminded me of however certain I get about something, not to get too certain, you know. Some things are not definite.

But I’m definitely converted.

  1. February 4, 2010 at 12:29 pm

    I KNEW IT!! x

    • February 4, 2010 at 12:42 pm

      Of course you did. It just took a little longer for me to click. And boy did I CLICK. xx

  2. Michael
    February 4, 2010 at 12:48 pm

    Welcome to roughing it.
    Just don’t leave the toilet paper at home, it’s one little detail that you always appreciate while chatting to the earwigs in the cubicle.

    • February 4, 2010 at 1:00 pm

      Eew. As if public restrooms aren’t bad enough. Earwigs. *shudders*

  3. February 4, 2010 at 12:55 pm

    Always adore your words. Your voice within your pieces.

    We moved house mostly too. Often leaving things behind.

    I like that you consider comedians to be depressed (perhaps).

    Happy you got (back) out there girl x

    • February 4, 2010 at 1:05 pm

      Thanks PJ. It doesn’t surprise me for some reason that you also moved a lot. I think it shows in your writing too, that observation one gets being an outsider. Keep on watching. x

  4. February 4, 2010 at 1:59 pm

    i’ve always considered running away a major priority too… particulary when boys and stars are involved… x x

    • February 8, 2010 at 1:25 pm

      They are indeed the things that sometimes need a little priority. x

  5. anya
    February 6, 2010 at 2:23 pm

    Yum. This smarts, reading through your words and recognising in you everything I would like to do. Let’s create a new world order where short stories are the new form of money, and all you have to do is write and you are rich.

    • February 8, 2010 at 1:24 pm

      I like that. You ever think about entering politics, you’ve got my vote. Or the whole world domination thing works too. Either way, I’m liking the cut of your jib.

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