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That fuzzy place the future

May 24, 2011

"For Sale" illustration by Julia Marshall

What does my future hold? These days, I have trouble picturing it.

I can imagine someday. Someday, perhaps in a year or two, maybe a little longer, I’ll have a steady, rewarding library job, and Andrew will too. We will live somewhere spacious and bright, with a garden, or a least a courtyard, with lots of herbs and vegies growing, and hopefully some fruit trees. We might own it. And we will have pets: a cat (or two), a dog (or two), maybe even some chooks as well… I could go on and on about that glorious imaginary someday…

But the near future, say two months from now? I don’t know how that looks. Where will we live? How much work will I be getting? Will my finances be heading forwards or backwards? Will I be mainly doing arty things or librariany things? I simply don’t know.

On the work front, I have at least found some casual library work at a public library service.  I’m really enjoying it. The people (both staff and customers) have been lovely and friendly without exception. But as I’m still very new, and being gradually trained at a single branch (when I know that I will be working across five very varied branches), I don’t yet have a clear idea of what the job is going to be like. And being casual, I don’t know how much work I will actually get. Artistically I’m not sure what I’ll be up to either. But at least I’m not too antsy about that one. I’ve got a few artistic pots a-simmering, and I’m happy now to let artistic projects ebb and flow to fit in with whatever else is going on.

On the home front, things are also unclear. Our place has been sold with vacant possession, so we are hunting around for a new rental home, hoping to find somewhere liveable and affordable ASAP. We’d like to find somewhere nicer than our current mouldy shoebox, but thanks to Melbourne’s tight rental market, we will be paying more just to rent somewhere as good as what we’re in. Upgrading is going to be expensive, and given the fierce competition for appealing properties, combined with our tight deadline to move out, it may not be possible. But we haven’t given up just yet. So, maybe six weeks from now I’ll be happily blogging about our lovely, roomy and light-filled new abode, complete with sunny courtyard, copious cupboard space, and best of all a dishwasher. Or, maybe, I’ll be blogging from a new, different, slightly roomier, but mould-free shoebox. Or, perhaps we’ll have to put our worldly goods into storage and perch with relies for a while – it certainly wouldn’t be ideal, but might be better than being locked into a 12 month lease for a property we hate. Obviously, I’m hoping and striving for option 1.

It is a strange, unnerving feeling to be moving ever closer to the end of our lease not knowing where we are heading next, or how much we can really afford to pay for our next place. I feel a little like I’m being forced to take a long walk on a short pier in heavy fog. I’m trying to keep walking steadily, placing my feet carefully, and hoping that the fog will start to clear very soon. And someday maybe the sun will even come out… Somehow, someday, somewhere…

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