Why Plan?

I am incapable of planning anything in my life. And thank Gucci for that. If I was capable of making, and then following through, with anything I fleetingly thought to engage in, I would probably be a princess right now.

 

Oh. Moot point.

 

On Saturday morning I woke up and was readying myself for a five day weekend (I usually like to look at my days as one long Saturday) and then DTM called me with an offer I couldn’t refuse.

“Come and work in publicity on a film,” He said. “In Hervey Bay.”

Quickly calculating the experience, opportunity and cute actors involved, I decided immediately that I would be a Moby Dickhead if I didn’t go to Australia’s whale watching capital for a little movie making R&R.

 

On Sunday night I had to pack up my life for an extended stay in a small town. I lined up the Fendi, the Chloe and nine pairs of shoes I find necessary to exist in my life when away from my actual closet. OK, so I don’t have anything that screams ‘low key’ or ‘Bogan’ (Aside: except for flannelette pyjamas I deem acceptable attire for any public forum) and hence packing became quite difficult.

 

Is a sparkle caplet over jeans too much for the Hervey Bay Boat Club?

 

I am an all or nothing person – as any ex-boyfriend will tell you with a resentment and a glint in his eye – so I decided to put everything I have EVER owned into four suitcases. I went to London with less luggage. Literally, I did: But the issues I have with weight restrictions on airlines is an entirely different story that I will [hopefully] be telling in the not-to-distant future.

There was little humour involved in the packing process (It was like trying to fit a square in a circle), but there was hilarity when I guided DTM through my (organized!) wardrobe. To get a precise mental image, image what twenty four T-shirts piled on top of each other look like in a wardrobe. And then there are the jeans.

 

While my clothes and shoes fit into four suitcases, the baggage I left on the GC was becoming overbearing. I will be the first to admit that the chip on my shoulder about being there, and not London, weighs more than Qantas would allow me to travel with. My bad decisions, which stem largely from accepting self-destructive behaviour as an occupation to cope with my boredom, have culminated into excessive excess luggage.

The Johnny left the country on Saturday morning for Hell (Aside: That was a guess). He called me on Friday to inform me of his impending departure.

“I am leaving and this is our last chance to say good-bye.”

“Good-bye.”

“You’re not sad that I am leaving?” He always was funny.

“I hate to say this, but in all honesty, I would rather poke myself in the eye than spend another moment with you.” I have always been blunt.

I didn’t hear from him again after that. I’m not sure exactly what he was expecting – I would have gladly thrown him a Good-Bye Party…I just would not have invited him – as the past three months of our relationship has kind of been like the interaction between a shark and a dolphin: It was never going to end well.

 

I told only one friend on the GC that I was leaving, as I relish in the idea of slinking away from my life (assuming I have one). I spent last night with Jess – the Other Ex-Boyfriend. The Good One. He is the only one I keep going back to because of his endless generosity and patience with me, a genuine respect for his character and a superficial obsession with looking at his hot butt.

We spent hours together, reminiscing, knowing that because of the directions our lives are taking us – me to whaling season, his to communist China – we may not be in the same room together until he is married and I am his mistress (The one thing I have actually pre-planned).

 

I like this practice of leaving my GC life. The time is steadily approaching when I will board a plane and return to my adoptive homeland of England and will not return to Australian shoes unless someone gets married, dies or Gucci has an eighty percent off sale. While I know that I am incapable of packing lightly, eight hours into my departure and I already know that I can leave my baggage behind.

 

 Post By Salium 

~ by princesssall on April 7, 2008.