You Are (t)Here

Some of you may have noticed the discrepancy between the date on which the events of the last post occurred, and when it was actually posted. That 3 month gap has been, I’ll admit, a bit of a digital thorn in my side.

I am waiting in line at immigration. The power in the airport fails and a collective groan sounds from the line. Several minutes later, I am in conversation with an Irishman just returning from a trip home, and he is giving me tips on finding a flat in Melbourne.

But it’s been a whirlwind couple of months. And through it all I was making notes, snapping shots and writing down post ideas like a good little blogger. But I arrived in Australia already lagging behind, a chunk of my time in India still left to upload and I just never. . .quite. . .caught up.

I am walking towards St. Kilda. I never make it because I’m distracted by a giant inflatable orb being pushed across a soccer field. I walk over, meet what turn out to be a group of sky-divers, and spend the evening sharing drinks and conversation in the back of their van.

It seemed do-able at times. But then commitments (read:life) would come up and another weekend would pass by with one post uploaded where it should have been two (or three) and the battle to close that gap would remain a bitter stalemate.

I am walking back from my very first MMA class in Melbourne. My body is aching in the best possible way. I have a shrimp bun in my backpack from a local Chinese bakery and am sipping a taro flavored bubble tea as I make my way to the tram. I am stupidly happy, and overcome with appreciation for the opportunities living in a big city has afforded me. I am falling in love with Melbourne.

And with each passing ‘deadline’ the notes piled. Each time A THING WORTH WRITING ABOUT occurred I’d jot down ideas I had for a post. . . .then file them away in THE LIST, travel back in time, and begin writing about the thing I’d made notes on 3 months prior.

I am back in Toronto, standing on a bridge with a friend I first met in Amsterdam. He is explaining to me where the sculptures will hang once his group finishes work on them.

This had several unfortunate effects.

One was that it allowed an all-pervasive feeling of guilt to hang over me. I had A THING to do, and it was not DONE. So I was always behind, and always failing, and that’s a shitty piece of baggage to carry around with you 24/7. Especially when you know it’s something you’re forcing upon yourself.

I am wandering from alley to alley, photographing the colorful graffiti so prevalent on the city’s streets.

Another more pressing concern was that I began feeling a surreal disconnect from my present life as a result. I would be in training, drilling jab/cross/uppercut combos but my mind would be rehashing my July trip out to Woody Point, searching for exactly the right word to describe the blue of the ocean as I stared across it from the crumbling wharf at the water’s edge. Considering a big part of the reason I started this blog was to encourage myself to remain more present and active in my day-to-day life, this seemed counterproductive. It’s a challenge at the best of times to reign in my wandering mind, and this was just exacerbating the situation.

I am laughing. My work colleague is on stage, singing an improvised song about full cream milk. She is an actress from Perth, and goddamn does she have talent.

I’m looking down on the field. I’m sitting with a couple boys from work and taking in my first live rugby game. After multiple explanations, I still do not understand the rules.

And the longer it went on the more distracted and noisy my mind became. I was obsessed with holding onto moments in time until they began to fuse together, creating a chaotic collage chunk of memory; an assault of sensory input and fleeting thoughts and ideas. . .

I am staring up at the ring, the enthusiastic shouts of the crowd around me, watching her prepare for her first professional fight. I am hungry to be in that same position, and wonder if I will have my chance.

I am biking home. I have just finished my first week of training 3 classes per day. I feel strong and proud.

I am eating my first roo burger.


I have lost the entirety of Tues, Jul 17 to flights and time differences. This day, for me, did not exist. I think about how that means that when I eventually cross back over the ocean I will live the same day twice. I am TRAVELING THROUGH TIME.

OI. Stop it. You’re being stupid again.

. . .I’m sorry, what?

Stupid. You’re being it. You’re over-complicating a situation that you’ve forced upon yourself. It’s unnecessary, and it’s unhealthy. So just stop it.

But. . .I have a plot hole in my life.

No, you have a gap between where you left off writing in cyberspace and what you are experiencing in meatspace. You’re obsessing about this percieved gap to a point where it is affecting you negatively, at a time when you’ve far more important shit to do. Aren’t you supposed to be looking for a job?

. . .But I haven’t gotten to the part of the story where I lose my job yet.

Goddammit. Your life is not a fiction, girl. And this blog isn’t meant to be some highly detailed play-by-play of all things Krys. Just how arrogant are you?

. . .Pretty arrogant, actually.

Not so much that you actually believe the world is sitting on the edge of their seat, jaw clenched in suspense as they wait to hear the epic tale of how you got from point A to B. You wanted to share the best of stories from your life, yes, but obsessing about sharing EVERY story from your life is stopping you from experiencing it. And trying to write about your life as some flowing, coherent whole is only making you acutely aware of how incoherent your life if. It’s fucking chaos, man. Your life doesn’t make any sense. At least not when you try to fit it into the stream-lined context of a fictional plot. No one’s does. That’s not how life works.

So. . .what do I do?

Just let it go. Easy as.

Just skip to now? One minute I’m having a panic attack in Nova Scotia about my upcoming departure to Oz and the next minute I’m settled in Melbourne, 2 months into my MMA training and already job hunting for the second time?

Yep. You can, really. Believe me when I say that no one cares about this as much as you do. You’re over explaining and trying to justify something you don’t need to.

Look, I just can’t get past it. Really. I don’t know how to write with all those question marks hanging in the interim.

You could also just drop the blog entirely. I’m stating the obvious here but no one is forcing you to write. If you’re not enjoying it, stop doing it. Words to live by, those.

But I was enjoying it. I love writing. I love sharing. And yeah, if it continues to create unnecessary stress in the future I could see dropping it but, for now. . .I’m just not at that point yet. I still want to keep this going.

So compromise. Find the acceptable middle ground.

So here’s the compromise – I’m going to write 4 posts to catch up on what is now just shy of 4 months. I’m going to post them within 1-2 weeks. They won’t be a complete recap. They’re just four posts I outlined that I thought were good stories, and fill in most of the ‘plot hole’ that that anal retentive side of me is so obsessed with.

And then all that remaining detritus? I’m letting it go, man. I’d be lying if I said the idea of all those unused notes doesn’t get to me. Because it does. But not so much as that daily disconnect I’ve been experiencing does. It’s important to me to close that gap. It’s more important to me to get past this unhealthy obsession, and experience life in real time, without some manifested responsibility to WRITE ALL THE THINGS hanging over me.

Putting off life to write a blog is stupid. Even beyond the obvious negative impacts that becoming obsessive can have on your mindset there’s the catch-22 that it creates: If you’re allowing a digital project that is based around recounting real life experience to keep you from experiencing the real world, then what the hell of value will you have to write about?

. . .Besides internal conversations with yourself, that is.

1 thought on “You Are (t)Here

  1. Pingback: July | On the Road to Ithaca

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