Shall I begin like David Copperfield?

I remember someone saying to me, when I was barely eighteen years old (many many years ago): "Dan, life is complicated, but you have to focus on three main things: love, health, and work. Even if you're doing well in 2 out of 3, you're doing okay."  Sure, I thought. That can't be too hard?

So nearly a year ago, I found myself in a very strange point in my life.  I was rather unexpectedly single, after a mostly happy 9 year relationship; my appendix, which had been hiding behind my small intestine and been causing all sorts of problems, decided to finally rupture and send me to hospital for a week; and I was actively hating my job.  Well no, that last part is not quite right.  I loved my job. I hated how I was being made to do it, or rather, how I was being prevented from doing it properly.  My immediate colleagues are some of the best people I've ever had the pleasure of working with, but we had been learning a stark lesson in being forced to bend to the whims of those in power, even when they are ignorant, egocentric toolbags who have no concept of what you actually do, and zero interest in learning anything about it.

I really started to wonder what the hell was going on.  This was not the first time I'd had a rough time at work. I'd left my previous job a few years earlier because my direct manager was a lovely guy, but a really disastrous manager, with a pesky streak of paranoia to go with it. It was a timely move, and led to a great new team, with a great boss who actually mentored and led, instead of bullying and undermining. Unfortunately, in very large organisations, small teams are prey to the larger structures, and we were demolished after a change in executive leadership.  Prior to these two most recent roles, I'd only ever really left jobs when I was leaving the country, or when funding ran out for my project, or when I got bored and wanted to move on.

Maybe I'd just been lucky all those previous years?  Maybe this was the reality, and all good workers are doomed to have their souls sucked out by nefarious managers and directors who presumably live on the blood of newborns and make Faustian pacts on a daily basis?  And if that's how it had to be, then okay, I could roll with the punches, and go with it, because I had a great home life with a loving partner, and I was in pretty decent health for a lazy guy in his middish 30s.

So I guess when some minor but ongoing troubles at home came to a head, resulting in an unexpected break-up, and then my appendix finally burst and left me with an infection so nasty that my surgeon said "oh well, yes, we were actually quite worried about you", I guess I started to wonder whether there was something bigger going on. Maybe, in fact, the universe just hated me and enjoyed watching me suffer.  Maybe I was paying for sins in a past life.  I tried to look for answers. Was Mercury in retrograde or something? How long does that even go on for?  Is this a particularly bad Chinese astrological year?  All signs were pointing to yes.
My point is, I was having a rough time, and I was in pretty uncharted waters.

Like a burst of sunlight through a stormy sky, I was contacted by some people I knew in New Orleans, suggesting I apply for a job that was currently recruiting in an organisation that they were involved with.  This wasn't the first time we'd discussed this. I'd loved the time I'd spent in New Orleans (several months doing fieldwork for my PhD, and a few subsequent, much shorter visits), but the timing, the role, the visa situation... it had never been quite right.  So after this most recent chat, I sat back and really had to think.  I usually do this with a giant glass of wine, and this time was no exception. I thought about all the possible directions my life could take from this strange point forward. I thought about all the good things I still had going on here in Brisbane: a flat I love, with views to die for; some truly wonderful friends, some of whom have children who I really enjoy watching grow up; family; two beautiful kitties; comfort and familiarity, and so on. Giving all that up, even for a while, would be tough.  I had moved overseas before, but it seemed much simpler when I was 20...  So sure, I could stay here, find another job, try dating again (which is a scary concept when you haven't done it for a decade and were never very good at it in the first place!) and carry on with life here. No problem.  Or... I could be proactive, be courageous, and push myself out of my comfort zone. I mean, my comfort zone was really pretty miserable these days, so why was I hanging out here?

So, I went for it.  I got the job, I got the visa, and now I'm counting down until I blow this joint and move to New Orleans!

If you're still with me, you'll have noticed that I tend to ramble - sorry.  It's part of my charm. I usually get to the point eventually. And here it is:  I guess started this blog so I could narrate this journey, document the shifts in my life as I move, and when I get there.  It's likely of no interest to anyone but my friends and family (possibly not even them), but I'm already having fun.  That could partly be because I've been in bed with a really rotten cold for the last three days, and this is the first day I've been able to sit up long enough to type this much! Also, my dad sweet talked the pharmacist into giving me the good stuff, and I can actually breathe. Amazing.

So anyway. I guess this is the context post.  I intend to get into job stuff, visa process, selling and packing my life, etc, unless more interesting things appear along the way.  We'll see.  If you're a friend or a stranger, feel free to drop a comment about anything that takes your fancy.
Time to celebrate this first post with a glass of medicinal wine.