First Day of Work

3:10 the morning before my first day at work. Jet lag I suppose. I have to get up at 6, and then drive through rush hour at about 7:30, maybe a little earlier, to get there by 8 to meet my new boss for an hour. He's scheduled something like five meetings a day for me, every day this week. "Productive from your first day at work" that's what the HR documents said.

My overall state is a bit ground down. My dreams all involve intense arguments with people who have different values than I do (although I had an amusing sort of waking dream about a man who had married a woman with four or five kids from a previous marriage, and then they had a kid and called him "Kosovo", and in my waking dream I wondered why, and he explained the kid was named for a place that had achieved peace for each of its warring parties by getting a divorce).

I have so much still to sort out, but I don't want to spend any money, I don't want to acquire any goods. I suppose this is a good instinct, that I should try to maintain.

In fact, I have everything I need to just cruise for a while. I have to do all the logistical things here - bank, Dr, driver's license, insurance, phone, computer, internet, car, then furniture, places for all my stuff - bookcases, filing cabinets, computer desk, regular desk.

It will all come. For now I have everything I need to cruise for the first few weeks.

And last night I got 15 hours of sleep so that's probably why my body thinks 3 1/2 is enough for tonight.

The feeling is of injuries that need to heal. The stiff legs, the sore hips, the problem with the skin on my hands. The circles under the eyes, the deer-in-headlights look. Not being an introvert, these will heal through human contact. I'm already fantasizing about having a party.

Compare my first solo day in Appleton to my first solo day in Newtown.

The anonymity of travel is making it hard to connect to people. When I cancelled all my accounts in Sydney it was strangers saying to me, "Okay, you're all set." On the plane my travel agent had booked the seats so brilliantly that I didn't sit beside anyone to talk to and tell what big thing I was doing. Here the Target check-out people just say "That'll be $30.24." And don't ask any questions. Appleton is big enough that they don't spot someone who's new in town. And my accent must be the same enough that no one is going to ask me where I'm from.

It's the vocabulary that confuses them. "Heaps" seems to confuse them.

I'm trying to do this whole thing without alcohol. Maybe that's what the problem is!

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Did you know there's such a thing as good cholestral?

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Two of the folks at work described how they moved to Appleton because they got married. I moved to Appleton becasue I got unmarried.

Departure and Arrival

Sitting on the plane waiting for takeoff.

The kangaroo on the tail made me cry. I still call Australia home. Well, yesterday I caught myself calling Appleton home. Home is...what? Where the heart is, meaning the physical object the heart. Right now home is seat 55D on Qantas flight 11 to Los Angeles. Friday, October twenth-sixth, 2007.

Flight 11 also has an American Airlines number, a different one. So, if the plane can be both Australian and American at the same time, why can't I? So can I.
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I don't really feel any sense of closure or finality or departure. I can't believe everything actually got done. I can't believe I actually got everything out of the apartment. (And that the suitcases are both under United's maximum weight.) I feel like I'm going to wake up tomorrow and start it all again from the beginning.

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Pushing back now.

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I'm finally, finally, finally left alone. I don't have to be polite, I don't have to cheerily answer any telephones, I don't have to let anyone say an emotional goodbye to me. I hope I can continue to be alone alone on Sunday, all day.

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I keep thinking about him. I wish I had composed better emails to him, the last few.

The last Aussie email.

You have to go where your attention is. You have to be true to what you're feeling, you have to be true to your attractions. Maybe not, maybe that's bullshit rationalisation. But he's on my mind. I hope I can find internet access quickly so I can write him some good, well-written "what it's like" messages.

Lights off.

Try to sleep a bit.

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Watched:

Knocked Up
Faking It - Live TV Director
Saturday Night Fever
Trinny & Susanna - What Not to Wear
Top Gear

read:

nothing

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I remember the wish. I remember the effort of the psychic energy directed toward the Currier-&-Ives Christmas vision. The reality is different from the wish. I am living out the fulfillment of the wish but the now of it is different.

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The customs guy made me cry. A young, sexy Latino man. "Apple Town?" he said. "I'm getting hungry!" Then he stamped the form, folded my passport, and as he handed it to me he smiled and said, "Welcome home."

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Chicago O'Hare

At my gate there are planes leaving at 7:35, 7:40 and 7:55. Mine is the 7:55 one, to Appleton. The other two are going to Charleston. They are parked side by side at the same gate (F12 and F12A), both going to Charleston but one is going to Charleston, West Virginia and the other is going to Charleston, South Carolina. Two completely different cities.

Who thought that was a good idea?