"What's your name?"
"Daniel. What's yours?"
"My name's Nicholas Cage." This was a man at the bus stop. He had about 3 teeth, a heavy Australian accent, a cigarette in his hand, and a mouth dirtier than an old rag after washing the plates from a bbq dinner. He was a large man, grotesque to look at and he was not happy that the bus was running late. And it just so happened that both Good Ol' Saint Nic (as he called himself at one point) and me were both waiting on the 506. Furious, the man kept rattling off things about the "fucking buses, always fucking late, fucking cunts." Pardon the language, but these were his words. Bloody and bugger entered his vocabulary frequently as well. This has been fairly common language in my experiences here thus far. Certainly more common than in the States. However, that's not what I want to record about Nicholas Cage. The man was nuts. Let me go into a bit of detail.
A nice night after a good day spent at the beach (at Manly), I'd just eaten Thai with Tess and Rachel. We'd taken Kara to her home, because she'd lost her glasses in the ocean and couldn't see to navigate the buses. Fortunately, her home is in Drummoyne just around the corner from Wesley. We dropped her off and headed down the street to the Thai place. The food was quite good, as was the company. Well, I decided it was time for me to head home, about a 30 minute bus ride from our current location. I said my good evenings to the girls and headed on up the street.
As evenings go, buses here become less frequent. So, I sat down on a bench at the stop waiting. Nicholas Cage walked up and sat on the next bench down. Time passed. No sign of a bus. I got up to check the time sheet. One had gone by just a few minutes before, apparently. Nothing to do but wait. And wait. And wait. Twenty minutes pass before he spoke to me specifically, but the man was cussing under his breath basically as soon as he arrived at the bus stop. And then he approached me to discuss how he felt. "Mate, we're all cards in the same deck, you know what I mean? You, you're the Queen of Diamonds and I'm the Queen of Spades, mate. And you know what I do? I take all the queens and I rip them in half and that makes twelve. And there's the bloody problem, mate. They've got it all wrong. There are twelve commandments, not ten, you know what I mean? The religion's lying to us. That's what's wrong with the world. They don't even have it right, mate."
Through all this I thought it best simply to agree with whatever the man said. I nodded and gave some "Yeah, uh huh" responses as appropriate. The man continued. "I've got a secret to tell you. We're in America, mate." At this I laughed.
"Oh really? How do you know?" I asked him.
"The bloody McDonald's, mate. They're everywhere. Just listen to Good Ol' Saint Nic. They don't have those in the rest of the world. If we went up to Canada, you'd never seen a McDonald's. It's awful. Cards in the same deck, mate. Twelve commandments, not ten, you know what I mean? How old are you?"
"Twenty," I told him a bit hesitatingly. "Yourself?"
"Jesus, I'm forty two. All awful."
"Really?" I asked. "Surely not every moment has been bad."
"It all has. They kidnapped me and fucked me up. Made me crazy."
I laughed again a bit nervously. He certainly had the crazy part right. Well, he continued cussing about the bus system and he continued his random stream of consciousness statements that didn't make much sense--he kept coming back to the part about twelve commandments (I never did figure out what the extra two are). Finally the bus arrived, he shook my hand, and wished me well. He sat towards the back, I sat towards the front--where I just happened to be right in front of Ryan and Santiago, who I was relieved to see. The man was harmless, but he still made me a bit nervous.
The people here are so different. It's wonderful and strange. But hey, I came to Australia less than a week ago and I've already had my first celebrity encounter. Sure, it was Nic Cage rather than Hugh Jackman, but you gotta take what you can get, right?
27 February 2011
25 February 2011
"It's the people you're with that matters..."
Dominique (Dominic?)--Dom. He's Ross's neighbor who does a lot of work around the yard. He's actually a construction worker. This man has a big beer belly. He hardly wears a shirt and when he does it's usually unbuttoned. He just wanders onto Ross's property and talks with us frequently. A beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other, it's rare to see him without both. He always seems drunk and it may very well be that he always is just a little bit so. Well, tonight, Dom decided to go out of his comfort zone, as did I. It was Jason's birthday today. He also passed his English exam which will allow him to enrol in uni here in Australia. Thus, tonight, Ross tossed some lamb and some sausages on the barbie and we feasted Aussie style. A large group of about 15 were here tonight and it was just hanging out, eating, and having a good time. Then, as part of the celebration, we all headed into Sydney to a pub in a hotel--the Shark Bar.
We went to the pub and all the non-Americans were drinking, as is normal (I won't pretend like they weren't getting tipsy, as they were). There was a good amount of dancing in the place, lots of music and lights. It was packed. And yes, even I got up and danced a bit. But the highlight of the evening was sitting and chatting with Dom.
Out of the blue, this seemingly always drunk man starts talking to me about the importance of caring about the people you're close to. He points out to me that most of the people in the bar are Asians. He clarifies he's not trying to be racist, it's just interesting. And that turns into a brief, but interesting discussion in which Dom says, "I don't care about if you're white or black or yellow or anything. It's your personality that matters. It's you as a person that matters." And he then says, "You know, Ross's wife died 5 years ago? Well, Ross has been my mate for 30 years. And his friends, we know we've gotta stick close. Ross is my friend. And it's just important for me to be here. I don't much care for the city, myself. I almost didn't come tonight, but it's an occasion that he cares about, so I thought, 'What the hell' and here I am."
That's friendship. Pure and simple. Dom doesn't look like much when you first look at him. But he is an incredible man. On the bus home--the last bus tonight--he gave some girl his number. Dom's a sneaky man. And he's as friendly as they come. And for a bit on the bus, he had all the attention of our group as we cheered for his success in talking to this lady. And then we got home. And there he was walking with me asking if I had a good time. I told him I did. I asked if he did. He said, "Yeah, I did. You know, those pubs aren't really my thing. I'd never been to that one and probably won't go back, but I had a good time. It's the people you're with that matters. Go to a place like that by yourself and you got nothing. Go with the right group and you'll have a great time."
And Dom's right. I have no idea if he's even a christian. But that man loves his neighbor like none other. And he's such an example of Australian hospitality--Ross is too, for that matter. The people here are incredible. I feel safe. Secure. Loved. And I only just got here. But I feel like these people are family. And it's going to suck to leave in 4 months. But I can already tell, this experience is going to change me. I'm already starting to think about the world differently. I don't think I'm going to be the same person when I return home. Life here is beautiful. I'm happy. And I can't wait for the change to really start happening, because loving like Dom does would be beautiful. And I think that's one of the main reasons I've ended up here. To learn to love. And I hope I can bring that home with me.
We went to the pub and all the non-Americans were drinking, as is normal (I won't pretend like they weren't getting tipsy, as they were). There was a good amount of dancing in the place, lots of music and lights. It was packed. And yes, even I got up and danced a bit. But the highlight of the evening was sitting and chatting with Dom.
Out of the blue, this seemingly always drunk man starts talking to me about the importance of caring about the people you're close to. He points out to me that most of the people in the bar are Asians. He clarifies he's not trying to be racist, it's just interesting. And that turns into a brief, but interesting discussion in which Dom says, "I don't care about if you're white or black or yellow or anything. It's your personality that matters. It's you as a person that matters." And he then says, "You know, Ross's wife died 5 years ago? Well, Ross has been my mate for 30 years. And his friends, we know we've gotta stick close. Ross is my friend. And it's just important for me to be here. I don't much care for the city, myself. I almost didn't come tonight, but it's an occasion that he cares about, so I thought, 'What the hell' and here I am."
That's friendship. Pure and simple. Dom doesn't look like much when you first look at him. But he is an incredible man. On the bus home--the last bus tonight--he gave some girl his number. Dom's a sneaky man. And he's as friendly as they come. And for a bit on the bus, he had all the attention of our group as we cheered for his success in talking to this lady. And then we got home. And there he was walking with me asking if I had a good time. I told him I did. I asked if he did. He said, "Yeah, I did. You know, those pubs aren't really my thing. I'd never been to that one and probably won't go back, but I had a good time. It's the people you're with that matters. Go to a place like that by yourself and you got nothing. Go with the right group and you'll have a great time."
And Dom's right. I have no idea if he's even a christian. But that man loves his neighbor like none other. And he's such an example of Australian hospitality--Ross is too, for that matter. The people here are incredible. I feel safe. Secure. Loved. And I only just got here. But I feel like these people are family. And it's going to suck to leave in 4 months. But I can already tell, this experience is going to change me. I'm already starting to think about the world differently. I don't think I'm going to be the same person when I return home. Life here is beautiful. I'm happy. And I can't wait for the change to really start happening, because loving like Dom does would be beautiful. And I think that's one of the main reasons I've ended up here. To learn to love. And I hope I can bring that home with me.
24 February 2011
A couple days in...
So.... I made it to Australia.
I listened to Hugh Jackman's Boy From Oz on the plane. Wonderful music. And a lot has happened in the last few days very quickly. And frankly, I don't know how to even remotely go into talking about it all, because I've met 30+ people in the last few days, I've been through some of Sydney, taken a nice evening harbour cruise, eaten tons of meals--they seriously do it hobbit style here--and things just keep piling up. So, rather than attempt a total recap, I'm going to tell just a couple stories.
The birds gather on the roof and the deck in the evening. They're cockatoos. And around a dozen of them show up wishing to bed fed bread. Ross Frazer, my host dad, puts a piece of bread in his mouth and bends towards one of the birds. It takes it right from him, straight out of his mouth. Ross laughs and says, "You see that? Cocky fella, just takes it." He then turns and looks at the other birds, most of which are still sitting on the roof. "Come on down," he says. And he makes calling sounds like one does with a pet. Ross is a 57 year old widower--his wife died just 5 years ago. He fits my image of an Australian extremely well, which surprises me. He fits many of the stereotypes. He curses left and right, is very opinionated, he loves having a barbie (bbq), he drinks a lot, he's got a thick accent, and he is as welcoming and friendly a man as I've ever met. The man's property is large running back into the woods a bit. A waterfall runs into a creek that marks the boundary line of his land. A couple cats run around the yard. Wounded birds are kept in a cage in Ross's yard. He loves the creatures, it's clear. He loves the land. He is a man in tune with his surroundings. And it's wonderful.
Story #2. If running through the Rocks and to the Harbour Bridge and to the Opera House on a scavenger hunt sounds exhausting but enjoyable, then it sounds exactly like it is. Feet sore and flustered thoughts as we're passing historic landmarks and shops and pubs left and right. Going through random streets looking for landmarks, looking for specific items such as coasters from pubs. The ASC group has been split into groupings with the Australian Year 1 students. Thus, there are only 2 other Americans in my particular group. There are 6 or 7 Australians. They've all been here before. I have no time to get my bearings as we meander through the city. And then there we are on the Harbour Bridge. There's the Opera House for the first in person citing. And there's the Australians criticizing the ludicrous nature of the Opera House's structure. And here I am being overwhelmed. And then we're sitting reunited with the full group doing the wave on the steps up to the Opera House. And then we're getting on a cruise ship on a dock right next to the Opera House. And then we're cruising in the harbour, and it's just an open cruise, hang out with whoever you want, chat, get to know people. And I'm sitting outside by the railing talking to Alessandra (an American student who grew up in Brazil--mk), Kara (another American student from... crap, don't remember), and Erin (one of our ASC leaders) and we're just chatting about anything and everything. And we're connecting. And it's great. This is for what must have been several hours, though it flew by. And then we're inside eating. I'm at a table with Erin, Kimberley (the ASC director), Ryan (one of my housemates), and Jo (one of the drama professors who I don't really know yet but will). And again, we're just chatting. About anything and everything. And Alessandra joins us again and then she and I are chatting about photography. And Denning (an awesome Australian) joins us and we're talking about things that we Americans should be sure to do while we're here. And then the cruise is ending and I'm headed home to Ross's place with my housemates (Ryan, as I said, Nick--a fellow drama person, and Santiago--who grew up in Columbia before moving to the States). And I'm sitting on the bus talking to Nick about theatre. And I'm back to Ross's. And I'm writing a blog. And I'm thinking, "God, I'm the luckiest guy in the world, because this is an incredible place and I can't think of anywhere I'd rather be."
I listened to Hugh Jackman's Boy From Oz on the plane. Wonderful music. And a lot has happened in the last few days very quickly. And frankly, I don't know how to even remotely go into talking about it all, because I've met 30+ people in the last few days, I've been through some of Sydney, taken a nice evening harbour cruise, eaten tons of meals--they seriously do it hobbit style here--and things just keep piling up. So, rather than attempt a total recap, I'm going to tell just a couple stories.
The birds gather on the roof and the deck in the evening. They're cockatoos. And around a dozen of them show up wishing to bed fed bread. Ross Frazer, my host dad, puts a piece of bread in his mouth and bends towards one of the birds. It takes it right from him, straight out of his mouth. Ross laughs and says, "You see that? Cocky fella, just takes it." He then turns and looks at the other birds, most of which are still sitting on the roof. "Come on down," he says. And he makes calling sounds like one does with a pet. Ross is a 57 year old widower--his wife died just 5 years ago. He fits my image of an Australian extremely well, which surprises me. He fits many of the stereotypes. He curses left and right, is very opinionated, he loves having a barbie (bbq), he drinks a lot, he's got a thick accent, and he is as welcoming and friendly a man as I've ever met. The man's property is large running back into the woods a bit. A waterfall runs into a creek that marks the boundary line of his land. A couple cats run around the yard. Wounded birds are kept in a cage in Ross's yard. He loves the creatures, it's clear. He loves the land. He is a man in tune with his surroundings. And it's wonderful.
Story #2. If running through the Rocks and to the Harbour Bridge and to the Opera House on a scavenger hunt sounds exhausting but enjoyable, then it sounds exactly like it is. Feet sore and flustered thoughts as we're passing historic landmarks and shops and pubs left and right. Going through random streets looking for landmarks, looking for specific items such as coasters from pubs. The ASC group has been split into groupings with the Australian Year 1 students. Thus, there are only 2 other Americans in my particular group. There are 6 or 7 Australians. They've all been here before. I have no time to get my bearings as we meander through the city. And then there we are on the Harbour Bridge. There's the Opera House for the first in person citing. And there's the Australians criticizing the ludicrous nature of the Opera House's structure. And here I am being overwhelmed. And then we're sitting reunited with the full group doing the wave on the steps up to the Opera House. And then we're getting on a cruise ship on a dock right next to the Opera House. And then we're cruising in the harbour, and it's just an open cruise, hang out with whoever you want, chat, get to know people. And I'm sitting outside by the railing talking to Alessandra (an American student who grew up in Brazil--mk), Kara (another American student from... crap, don't remember), and Erin (one of our ASC leaders) and we're just chatting about anything and everything. And we're connecting. And it's great. This is for what must have been several hours, though it flew by. And then we're inside eating. I'm at a table with Erin, Kimberley (the ASC director), Ryan (one of my housemates), and Jo (one of the drama professors who I don't really know yet but will). And again, we're just chatting. About anything and everything. And Alessandra joins us again and then she and I are chatting about photography. And Denning (an awesome Australian) joins us and we're talking about things that we Americans should be sure to do while we're here. And then the cruise is ending and I'm headed home to Ross's place with my housemates (Ryan, as I said, Nick--a fellow drama person, and Santiago--who grew up in Columbia before moving to the States). And I'm sitting on the bus talking to Nick about theatre. And I'm back to Ross's. And I'm writing a blog. And I'm thinking, "God, I'm the luckiest guy in the world, because this is an incredible place and I can't think of anywhere I'd rather be."
18 February 2011
Just a couple days left before it begins...
Less is better. When it comes to packing for a trip, that's how I feel. I have a small suitcase, which will soon be filled with some clothes and other essentials for my journey. I've done a large amount of laundry, I've made a list of items I mustn't forget, and I've been rolling my eyes at the handful of other American students going on this trip who have posted on a group page on Facebook about how they have no idea how they're going to pack everything and maybe they should go ahead and bring two suitcases and thinking that the program runners can't possibly be serious about needing to be able to carry your suitcase several flights of stairs.
It amuses me. There are several jabs at American consumerism in the information guides sent to us for this program and... a decent number of the other students going balk at this, declaring that they are fine with being big time consumerists. Which is exactly what the guide is saying you shouldn't do. Alas, I suppose instructions given by the program one is enrolled in are about as useful as telling a kid, "Don't eat the cookies I left out on the counter." Of course the kid's going to eat them... ahem, brat.
Okay, okay, I'm being harsh. I'm a ridiculously light packer. I'd live out of a backpack if I thought I could get away with it. I'm not normal.
In other news, the time for leaving is extremely close. Today, I had several meetings to discuss some of what will happen when I get back to the country and am back in regular classes again. I visited several people, hugged several, and told them all something along the lines of "Well, have a great next 4 months, as I probably won't see you again before I leave."
I have a small group of close friends going out for dinner tomorrow (well, technically later today). And that's my little private going away party. Aside from that, I'm not really doing anything special with anybody. I'm just going to slip away. And I'm so ready for it. Treasure Island finished up last weekend and that was the only thing I've really been doing lately. It's time to go get busy again. It's time to go on an adventure. It's time to go. A couple days.
So, given that I feel like I should include something entertaining in my post, I'll leave you with a video clip. This is Tim Minchin, an Australian comedian of whom I am quite fond. He's rather hilarious--the intro is a bit long, but trust me, midway through, you will not regret watching.
Not his funniest song, but daaaang, that solo's sweet. Also, I'm hoping to see him. He's going to be playing... at the Sydney Opera House with the Sydney Symphony Orchestra. Freakin' awesome.
It amuses me. There are several jabs at American consumerism in the information guides sent to us for this program and... a decent number of the other students going balk at this, declaring that they are fine with being big time consumerists. Which is exactly what the guide is saying you shouldn't do. Alas, I suppose instructions given by the program one is enrolled in are about as useful as telling a kid, "Don't eat the cookies I left out on the counter." Of course the kid's going to eat them... ahem, brat.
Okay, okay, I'm being harsh. I'm a ridiculously light packer. I'd live out of a backpack if I thought I could get away with it. I'm not normal.
In other news, the time for leaving is extremely close. Today, I had several meetings to discuss some of what will happen when I get back to the country and am back in regular classes again. I visited several people, hugged several, and told them all something along the lines of "Well, have a great next 4 months, as I probably won't see you again before I leave."
I have a small group of close friends going out for dinner tomorrow (well, technically later today). And that's my little private going away party. Aside from that, I'm not really doing anything special with anybody. I'm just going to slip away. And I'm so ready for it. Treasure Island finished up last weekend and that was the only thing I've really been doing lately. It's time to go get busy again. It's time to go on an adventure. It's time to go. A couple days.
So, given that I feel like I should include something entertaining in my post, I'll leave you with a video clip. This is Tim Minchin, an Australian comedian of whom I am quite fond. He's rather hilarious--the intro is a bit long, but trust me, midway through, you will not regret watching.
Not his funniest song, but daaaang, that solo's sweet. Also, I'm hoping to see him. He's going to be playing... at the Sydney Opera House with the Sydney Symphony Orchestra. Freakin' awesome.
06 February 2011
A Summary Of How The Journey Came To Be
"So, I want to go to Australia. Study abroad." Those were my words to Mark Matson, the academic dean at Milligan College, one day in the "McCormick Dining Center" (also known as the cafeteria, caf for short) on the first floor of Sutton, the glorious building that sits at the top of Sutton Hill, overlooking most of campus. Sutton is a girls' dormitory. It has had some renovations fairly recently, such as that wonderful "Dining Center," so I suppose I should have been thankful for the aesthetically pleasing design on the first floor--never mind that the dorms themselves aren't what one would call "nice" and that the actual food is mediocre at best. There have been a handful of times that I have enjoyed sitting in that building: freshman year, I loved getting to dinner early and staying late every evening. I would eat with a large group of friends, most of whom were female, which led to the nickname of "The Harem." And in those days, I'd never have imagined I would be going to Australia just a couple years later. Oh, how the times change.
Over time, I became disgruntled with "The Harem," tiring of the group atmosphere--the constant jokes were fun to an extent, but I slowly lost interest in such regularity of meetings. Thus by the end of the fall semester of my sophomore year, I had ceased arriving to the caf early and leaving late. It wasn't anything against any single individual; I had just changed. I found a deep desire growing in myself for something different. And meanwhile, my sister was off studying in Cairo, Egypt. This put ideas in my head about going abroad. It wasn't that I wanted to copy my sister. I simply enjoy travel and my sister's semester abroad gave me a sturdy belief that I would be able to convince my parents that my own pilgrimage would be a good idea.
Thus, around the time that my sister was returning to the United States, I began suggesting the idea that I, too, go abroad. As for where I wanted to go, I turned to my passion for the answer: theatre. You see, I had no intention of going abroad solely for the experience of going abroad. If I was going to go through with it, I wanted it to be as useful for my training and growing in theatre as possible. I looked through all of the Best Semester programs offered--Best Semester is an organization run by the CCCU, of which Milligan College is a part--and found that it just so happened Australia, a place that certainly sounded pretty cool to me at the time, offered a theatre program. As far as I could tell, that was the only Best Semester option for a theatre focus.
Thus, I approached Mark Matson in the caf with those words. "I want to go to Australia. Study abroad."
"Excellent. We'll make it happen. Do you want to do the CCCU program or do you just want to go to a university there and do your own thing? We can do either. Set up a meeting with me. We'll discuss."
And that was that. I set up my meeting, met with him, and the ball was rolling. As soon as the program was open for applications for the Spring 2011 semester, I applied. And the waiting game began.
I must admit that, at the time, I was not entirely sure what I was doing. It didn't seem like it was really going to happen. Despite Matson's certainty that it would happen, I was not so sure. But I was excited to apply.
You see, even then, I had a deep desire to get away. Milligan is about 10 minutes from the house I've grown up in. My church is on campus. Both of my sisters, my parents, and several extended family members are all alums of the school. I have known many of the professors for most of my life. I have grown weary of being in the same place for so long. I have traveled a fairly good amount throughout my life, but rarely for more than a week or two at a time. Twenty years in the same town has me aching to get out and do something different, at least for a little while. And I was feeling that desire a year ago--since then, it has only grown.
But, as I said, after I applied, there was a great waiting game. I was not to know if I'd been accepted into the program until the summer, which would not come for a few months. I still had a lot to do in the remainder of that semester--I worked on multiple shows, including directing my first one act, I dealt with my first romantic relationship, I found both old and new friendships changing drastically. And it was stressful. And it seemed to go on and on. And my desire to escape grew.
Summer came. I went to Europe with a tour group from Milligan. We were there for 3 weeks. It just so happened that Mark Matson was one of the faculty members on the tour. One day, on a train, he stopped by my car to speak to me. "You've been accepted," he said. "You're going to Australia. It's exciting!" His first assurance that it would happen was proven true. And once again, he spoke correctly. It certainly was exciting. And still is.
Over time, I became disgruntled with "The Harem," tiring of the group atmosphere--the constant jokes were fun to an extent, but I slowly lost interest in such regularity of meetings. Thus by the end of the fall semester of my sophomore year, I had ceased arriving to the caf early and leaving late. It wasn't anything against any single individual; I had just changed. I found a deep desire growing in myself for something different. And meanwhile, my sister was off studying in Cairo, Egypt. This put ideas in my head about going abroad. It wasn't that I wanted to copy my sister. I simply enjoy travel and my sister's semester abroad gave me a sturdy belief that I would be able to convince my parents that my own pilgrimage would be a good idea.
Thus, around the time that my sister was returning to the United States, I began suggesting the idea that I, too, go abroad. As for where I wanted to go, I turned to my passion for the answer: theatre. You see, I had no intention of going abroad solely for the experience of going abroad. If I was going to go through with it, I wanted it to be as useful for my training and growing in theatre as possible. I looked through all of the Best Semester programs offered--Best Semester is an organization run by the CCCU, of which Milligan College is a part--and found that it just so happened Australia, a place that certainly sounded pretty cool to me at the time, offered a theatre program. As far as I could tell, that was the only Best Semester option for a theatre focus.
Thus, I approached Mark Matson in the caf with those words. "I want to go to Australia. Study abroad."
"Excellent. We'll make it happen. Do you want to do the CCCU program or do you just want to go to a university there and do your own thing? We can do either. Set up a meeting with me. We'll discuss."
And that was that. I set up my meeting, met with him, and the ball was rolling. As soon as the program was open for applications for the Spring 2011 semester, I applied. And the waiting game began.
I must admit that, at the time, I was not entirely sure what I was doing. It didn't seem like it was really going to happen. Despite Matson's certainty that it would happen, I was not so sure. But I was excited to apply.
You see, even then, I had a deep desire to get away. Milligan is about 10 minutes from the house I've grown up in. My church is on campus. Both of my sisters, my parents, and several extended family members are all alums of the school. I have known many of the professors for most of my life. I have grown weary of being in the same place for so long. I have traveled a fairly good amount throughout my life, but rarely for more than a week or two at a time. Twenty years in the same town has me aching to get out and do something different, at least for a little while. And I was feeling that desire a year ago--since then, it has only grown.
But, as I said, after I applied, there was a great waiting game. I was not to know if I'd been accepted into the program until the summer, which would not come for a few months. I still had a lot to do in the remainder of that semester--I worked on multiple shows, including directing my first one act, I dealt with my first romantic relationship, I found both old and new friendships changing drastically. And it was stressful. And it seemed to go on and on. And my desire to escape grew.
Summer came. I went to Europe with a tour group from Milligan. We were there for 3 weeks. It just so happened that Mark Matson was one of the faculty members on the tour. One day, on a train, he stopped by my car to speak to me. "You've been accepted," he said. "You're going to Australia. It's exciting!" His first assurance that it would happen was proven true. And once again, he spoke correctly. It certainly was exciting. And still is.
What's with the blog, dude?
I'm headed to Australia in 2 weeks. I won't have frequent internet access while I'm there, but I'm planning on keeping a journal about my travels. Not everything in my personal journal will be posted here, but some of it I will put up for your reading pleasure. I will have a handful of posts before I head out giving some of the history of how I came to be enrolled in the program and how I'm going about preparing to leave.
I will be gone for 4 months.
This will (hopefully) be the easiest place to have some idea of what I'm doing while I'm gone.
Hopefully, I'll be somewhat entertaining and interesting in my posts. We'll see.
PS. This is perhaps more for myself than for anyone else. I make no apologies for anything I post.
I will be gone for 4 months.
This will (hopefully) be the easiest place to have some idea of what I'm doing while I'm gone.
Hopefully, I'll be somewhat entertaining and interesting in my posts. We'll see.
PS. This is perhaps more for myself than for anyone else. I make no apologies for anything I post.
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