I love this place. I love how I feel, how people behave, how laid back and chill everyone is, how they get "pissed off" and it's still not upsetting, how they can't do mexican food to save their lives, how they don't understand what "light beer" is, how no one knows what a damn martini is, how I feel like I'm on some sort of downer all the time cause I can't be bothered to get riled up...about anything....every. Unless I'm sleep deprived of course.
Then something happened. I thought, hmmm, what if I want to stay longer than a year? (At this point I have to be out of the country by June 2, 2010). People under the common wealth are allowed to go do 3 months of fruit picking in the outback in order to get 1 year extra visa, but since we are American assholes we are not. So it's either 1. leave on that date 2. marry an Australian within the year (might have one in mind *wink*wink* to those "in the know") or 3. get sponsored by a company.
Shit. Fuck.
So guess what I've been doing for the past 3 hours.....I've spent out approximately 20 resumes to different companies in hopes that they will take me and subsequently sponsoring me for residency. Of course, once you find a sense of happiness it has to be nearly impossible. Now they want me to only be happy for the year. I realize I've only been here for 2 months and I have 10 more to go, but it's still incredibly frightening to realize that I can't stay in a place that I like, that likes me. :)
Here's to hoping that I can get a sponsor....soon.
In lighter news, my birthday is in a few weeks and I've booked tickets to Airlie Beach (google it). So excited, going to go scuba diving and surf and generally relax. Going by myself, which I'm also really excited about. As much as I am a million miles away from people who really know me I still get sufffocated around people and like the freedom of jetting off whenever/wherever I want.
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