When shit hits the fan, I run away. I just noticed this recently. Is that a bad thing? A lot of the good things that have happened to me have come about because I've run away from a bad situation. For example, when I was living with a friend who liked to pick on me and make me feel bad about myself I moved out, into a share house with people I didn't know and who became some of my bestest friends. Then, when that house got too cold and busy and depressing I ran away and moved in with another bunch of strangers, one of those strangers is reading this blog now and is one of my bestest friends also. Again, when N and I finished our undergrad studies and couldn't find jobs or PhD projects in Melbourne we ran away to Armidale (the jury is still out on whether this was a good idea). Now, I'm getting sick of being here. Should I run again?
Something tells me I should stick it out. Someone tells me that too. I like a challenge usually, or do I? I don't know, I'm confused. This time the running will probably take me back to some of the stuff I ran away from originally. I guess there are a limited number of places to run and eventually you have to face the shit. Problems don't go away, they just look less menacing from a distance. This little pickle may never be resolved. So that's how I'll leave my post.
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