The Town That Time Forgot (II)

I’m meant to be doing a million other things involving writing and I don’t want to do any of them and that is why now is the perfect time to complete this round of thought.

So we've established Melbourne’s not exactly the most novel place to be. I have to admit that the issue of change – or the lack thereof – is one I was well aware of even when I first arrived in this town. It just so happens that I conveniently chose to ignore it till the novelty of the place wore off.

The other issue is less obvious but far, far more insidious. It took me a good two or three years to identify it. It’s ‘happiness’ and, like change, the lack thereof.

It’s incredible – it’s awe-some and awe-full. These people are the most negative critters I’ve ever come across. A life spent as an only child means I’ve learned to whine my way through existence, but I make sure even my grumpiest moments are mixed up with a bit of joy, humour and appreciation for what I have. The whining is just a front, I’ve never meant any of it. Even as a child I knew that whining was an entirely ineffective, albeit v. satisfying, strategy when it came to getting what you want. I also knew it annoyed adults no end which is why I had to cut down on it once I left high school (not that my family could tell).

But zomg, I’ve never seen such a genuine lack of happiness in my life! And never such authentic cynicism either. I am yet to locate a single Australian who is not on some sort of medication for a mood/anxiety disorder. I’m sitting here envying them for their non-gated communities, their social welfare, their incredibly (incredibly!) efficient and considerate public administration, their public transport, the abundance of carbohydrates in their food (aksh, this one is more gross than enviable), their endless parks and gardens and trees that are miraculously lush despite most not even belonging to this ecological system (or so I’m told), and my own freedom to – get this – GO FOR A WALK. I can walk down a main street. I can walk to the market. I can walk home at 11 pm after a show (not speaking for zone 2). I can travel almost anywhere I choose all by myself without fear of being gawked, ogled, letched or leered at. I’m just a visitor here, and I have ALL THIS FREEDOM. The main reason I spend so much time exploring this town all by my lonesome is because I’m still shocked that I CAN.

But Melbs isn’t happy. I can’t generalise these findings to all of Australia by any stretch – if anything I find people from the country are substantially ‘nicer’. They seem to have more joy and kindness in them. In Melbs there is so much... angst. It’s bizarre because it doesn’t even have a specific direction. All it needs is a scapegoat – anything can be a trigger. I mean, have you seen twitter? It’s incredible, every week the Melbs (and Syds, I think) based people will find something utterly mundane to be offended about. And d’you know what’s even better? Half those things don’t even concern them - they’re actively SEARCHING for something to have a rant about.

Chiz, what’s the point in getting upset about something you can’t/don't want to fix?

I don’t understand this anger/sadness mentality at all. I know us human beings have a negativity bias but this is ridiculous. God knows I spend more than my fair share of time wallowing in my own gloom and/or getting angry at the simpletons surrounding me, but it’s not the focus of my being. I understand it’s all right to be upset once in a while, but I would never, ever actively (or even passively) hunt for something to be negative about. Sadness and anger are bloody EXHAUSTING. I can’t handle anger for more than an hour or two, and I usually boot sadness out after it’s stayed in my mind for a day (maybe a week, if I’m super bummed). But what about happiness? Savouring the smallest things – animals, the weather, melodies, memories, smells, and the constant contentment that you are loved by many people in different ways. All the anger and sadness I’ve ever experienced feels completely insignificant when the little things take over.

There’s a conversation to recount for this one as well. We were sitting in a park and my friend was idly watching a toddler who was squealing with excitement at the sight of a horse-drawn carriage parked nearby. ‘Ah,' he said, 'don’t you wish we never lost our capacity for amazement?’ Rhetorical question, but yah know, I don’t think I ever did.