The unsettlingness of settling

This evening is the second time since I have been home that I have been gripped by a sense of panic, unease and a strange feeling of claustrophobia - or is it more that feeling in a dream when the brakes of your car won't work as you approach stationary vehicles.

The first time was after I had been in Brisbane for a few days before Heather flew back up from Sydney. I think being back in the house I lived in for a year and a half at University without any connection to anyone from my recent past made me feel like I had regressed six years. Some people might enjoy revisiting their youth, but I feel like my life gets better every day and I wouldn't turn the clock back if I was given the chance.

The second attack of itchy feet (this evening) has been after a long day of moving things into the house (like last time) and expending a large amount of brain power on how the furniture in the rooms should be arranged.

On both occasions I have suddenly had an intense desire to once again own only what I have in my backpack and get on a plane to distant country that doesn't speak English (preferably Spanish). Life is so much simpler while traveling - the only things that matter are where the next meal will come from and where you'll sleep that night. It becomes more complicated when you have to start earning an income - but even in London when you can keep your purchases of bulky items to a bare minimum and make do with what a rental house has to offer things remain pretty simple. I suddenly feel like I am the owner of a vast array of furniture, clothes, memorabilia from my past and other non-essential junk. It makes me feel cluttered and over-burdened with material possessions. No wonder people buy home and contents insurance - they get so paranoid about all this 'stuff' that they've invested their souls into considering, purchasing, carting home and setting up in exactly the right spot to match the rest of their 'decor'.

So as I was sitting in our newly rearranged lounge I wondered why on earth it matters that everything 'fits' or 'looks right' (bearing in mind that those questions had been at the forefront of my mind all afternoon). This is also on top of an ugly visit to IKEA - people strolling about considering how best to waste their money on matching suites for their homes, I felt physically repulsed as I navigated us through this behemoth warehouse of SHITE to clog up peoples homes an relieve them of their money that they worked to hard for so that they could get that 'Windsor Lounge Suite' they've had their eye on for months.

Surely a house, if it is indeed the nest which baby birds are to raised in, should be expression of the people who own it - a collection (mismatching most likely) of items from the past and present that tells a story about who these people are. Bear in mind I think I am being EXTREMELY lenient by even suggesting that people should waste natural resources on expressing themselves through interior decoration - there are plenty of other environmentally friendly ways of expressing yourselves.

But we want to be comfortable? Firstly we have an obsession with comfort, and extreme comfort at that - our leisure time becomes condensed so we need to intensify the R&R so that we feel like our bodies are floating through heaven before we consider ourselves properly comfortable. Squatting on your hind legs is an extremely comfortable position if you are taught to sit like that from a young age - or cross legged on a carpet. But no, we need cushions (matching ones), just the right shape and firmness couch and the TV at the right angle so we don't need to use another calorie of our energy while we 'relax'.

Okay I've gone on a tangent there.

I don't want to get caught up in the game of desire for 'nicer' things just because I can afford to. This is a bit of a pointless post because I don't think there is answer or a way to stop people from spending all their incomes on pursuing 'comfort' - it will always happen and is what drives our individualistic capitalist economies. I just want to be free from the cycle of consume, work, consume.

On another note - as I knew I would, I regret every second of my time (much of London excepted) traveling that I didn't stare wide-eyed at everything around me and soak in every ounce of atmosphere, language, music, custom and food. I envy those who are still in a 'foreign' land. I say 'foreign' like that, because really there is no such thing as a 'foreign' land. We are all people, we all eat, sleep and go to the toilet - in different ways and Australia has it's own ways just like any other country.

Have also put some photos up from home and the cricket