Giggling Gods

deferred dreams and what may be

Growing up I occasionally heard the expression, “if you want to make God laugh, make plans.”

As an event organizer I know that fortunately things can and generally do go to plan, so I guess sometimes God is bored and happy to let us silly humans go about our life-devising business. But the phrase has been on my mind lately. At the beginning of this year a friend in his early 50s was diagnosed with aggressive brain cancer. I have watched in awe at how he’s faced this situation with humor and bravery, even though he knows he doesn’t have much time.

On a macro level, the world feels increasingly unstable. Another friend had a massive trip to Europe booked, and despite her meticulous planning, the US started a war in the Middle East right when her six week dream trip was meant to begin. Her flight was cancelled as were thousands of others that flew over or near Iran. She couldn’t find a new flight in time, and the entire trip became impossible. She lost thousands of dollars in accomodation. And of course, for anyone who lives in a war zone, making plans is the least of your concerns.

Even before this year, I was a bit nervous about making plans. Before the pandemic I had vague, but real desires of taking a year off to spend roughly four months each in three different countries, having a glorious time abroad. I hadn’t booked the flights, but it was definitely on the cards, and then suddenly I couldn’t legally leave my local government area, let alone Australia for nearly two years.

So I suppose this is a long introduction to say I have some exciting plans coming up in the next few months, but I’m keeping my expectations low. My wonderful bosses at Maitland Regional Art Gallery have kindly agreed to let me take a year-long “career break” in October, and I plan to spend some time with family and spend a big chunk of it in New Orleans.

It’s a bit like a sabbatical. Isn’t Australia incredible?!

It’s about three months away from happening, and I have a lot to work out between then and now like figuring out where I’m gonna live, how I’m gonna make money, how I’m gonna pay for health care and most importantly how I’m gonna become the South’s best lady harmonica player. (Yes I do have a harmonica, and I am taking lessons.)

I hope to enroll in some history classes in the spring, and ideally I can find some ongoing remote freelance work to supplement the bartending or tour guiding or whatever I find, so sing out if you need a witty gal with the gift of gab and maybe just a littleeee bit too much confidence. I am applying for a few artist-in-residencencies and on the lookout for bizarre and beautiful opportunities that only come up when one is as free as a ramblin’ rainbow. I charge $50 per hour (AUD), and as always, despite the AI, despite the dying journalism, despite the feelings that nothing matters, my dream is to write about my observations and experiences, perform, have fun and maybe get paid, maybe make the world a little better along the way. Do those last few lines sound like a country song?

I often think of the Benjamin Franklin quote, “either write something worth reading or do something worth writing.”

But a lot can happen between then and now. As exciting as this seems in Alexland, I’m one out of nine billion people with hopes and dreams for 2027.

A year is not very long. I think of going home with big shiny eyes, but to everyone else this choice is no different, if not less significant, than starting a family or buying a house or creating a business or starting a new job, etc. Despite what my ego loves to whisper in my ear, I know I ain’t special.

Buttttt I’m still super excited and nervous as October approaches. I see videos of Louisiana swamps and my soul leaps! I watch brass bands on Frenchman Street perform through Instagram and I want to go to there! I think of living closer to my family than I have in 15 years, to be able to casually visit them any weekend, and my heart relaxes.

Hopefully by October the world still exists, hopefully the price of a flight to the US doesn’t go up to one million dollars, hopefully a plague doesn’t break out, hopefully the war ends, hopefully the world puts all tragedy and trauma on hold for the next year and a bit, just for me.

I would love God’s opinion on my upcoming plans. I hope he’s amused because it is a very Alex thing to do. Hopefully he’s smiling, but I would be just fine if he’s not laughing.