Bright Sun-shiney Day
I took this photo on Monday. I love how the rainbow sort of crashes into Arthur's Seat in the background. I also love how that drab set of brown buildings in the foreground is where I live. It used to be whiskey warehouses, and you can still see the rails where the trolleys used to go up and down, presumably to the docks. It's really ugly on the outside, but I love my flat. It's big and has window seats and has this suddenly free guest room.
So, Kristi left today, and that whole chapter has been closed. I keep thinking I should feel more than I do, but mostly I just feel a sense of "the end". It's over, there is nothing more to fret about, and yay on that. It was a gorgeous day, and I revelled in it, taking more cow photos, humming my way through the city, and kissing at least one police office and a cabby. I'm not so much happy she's gone as happy that it's over. No more of this purgatory of waiting for her to leave so that I could move on. The last three weeks have been very, very long.
But for all that I enjoyed today, I'm finding myself pondering more my trip to Australia. Had a long talk with a friend today, and it feels like the choices about Aus come down to this: I can either do something fun, or make a smart financial choice. And I'm really at the point where I have to be making those smart finacial choices. Living and working in Australia will give me enough money to support myself and have fun and see as much of that place as I can, but it won't get me ahead. It may even leave me in debt, not a clever thing to have happening when one is thinking about grad school and all that.
I hate these sorts of choices. It feels like if I don't go to Aus, I'll regret it later, but if I do go, I'll regret it later, too, when I'm eating rice and working two jobs again. And heaven knows I don't want to do that.
But on the other hand, I don't know how much of that feeling of fear is because of the amount of emotional pressure I've been under for the past six months to not go. Kristi made it really clear that she would be very unhappy if I went. That she'd feel like she missed out on things in Scotland if I left it before she did. I don't really follow that, but I can't pretend that wasn't there for all this time, and I don't know how much of my constant worries about going to Aus are simply because I have been thinking of *not* going to make life easier for her.
I think, in the end, I'm gonna go because really: if I hate it, I can leave. It's not like there's a law that says I must live a full year in Australia. I can do six months, or three, or even one if that's my fancy. But that little blue bird of financial concerns keeps twittering in my ear.
Maybe I should start buying lottery tickets. What are the taxes on lotto winnings in this country, anyway?