One Accidentally-Erased Essay
Perhaps it was the accidental erasing of my completed 2,000-word final essay that
launched me into the most recent of my nervous breakdowns. I will admit, I have gone a little bit off my rocker from endless hours of staring at the cruel blinking cursor while I created my essay from the depths of my brain—but the disappearance of the words, and the sudden appearance of a blank screen and mocking curser put me over the edge. The first indicator of my frayed nervous condition was yesterday, when I lathered my hair with face wash and my face with shampoo. It didn’t faze me one bit!

If there’s any truth to the old adage “insanity begets inspiration,” then this month’s postcard should be the most inspired column my now-delusional, and technology- abhorring, brain has ever produced! It is even surprising to me--who has spent the better part of every waking hour since the disappearance of “FinalEssay.doc” calling Macintosh support centres in both America and Australia, pleading with the automated computer system to replace my erased essay-- that the words of this postcard are simply falling from my fingertips. Why now--when it seems my brain can only produce feelings of loss, heartbreak, and frustration, does writing creatively come so much more easily?

Possibly what we all need are these moments of incomprehensible absence as reminders that we are indeed creative beings. Once we have written, painted, photographed, or remembered something, it is often easy to forget that there was once a time where that poignant and specific space in our lives was unoccupied.

Life Lessons From McDonald’s
On a superficial level, for example, about three years ago, McDonalds changed the recipe for their vanilla milkshake, which I, being a discerning milkshake drinker, aptly noticed one sunny drive-thru day in high school. I asked the employee at the window, who may have not even been aware of the recipe change, what had happened to the milkshake.

With a half-blank stare, eyes blinking rapidly, she replied “it’s right there, I just handed it to you.” I attempted to explain that while I understood this was a McDonald’s vanilla milkshake, there had indeed been a previous milkshake, in fact millions of previous milkshakes that were inherently, even incomprehensibly, different from the one I was currently drinking. They were all technically McDonald’s vanilla milkshakes, but they were different.

One--in my opinion-- incomplete version had replaced what once was. I would never be able to drink the vanilla milkshake again, even though I was drinking a vanilla milkshake right that very moment. The driver of the maroon sedan behind me must not have been in a philosophical mood that day, as I grudgingly nudged my car forward after hearing two anxious honks. In essence, the loss of the McDonald’s vanilla milkshake opened my eyes to a good thing that is no more, and thus, my senses were awakened to other aspects of my life that I need to savor now.

Soaking It Up in Australia
Being in Australia through the Study Abroad Program has given me the privilege of the sojourn—to exist here more concretely than a tourist but less permanently than a resident. When I go back to Philadelphia, there will indeed be a specific space filled with memories and photographs, ticket stubs and receipts, bar coasters and souvenirs, where the everyday experiences of Australia used to be. How can I be sure that this fleeting existence does not cease to exist when I no longer occupy that space daily?

It is hard for me to remember a life before Australia because I have been so consumed by this magnificent country. As my time here is beginning to come to a close, I find myself constantly peppering every daily activity with reminders to remember how this moment feels. I know there will still be an Australia when I go back home. It will not be the same, however, as the Australia I am experiencing here and now, just as the McDonald’s vanilla milkshake can never be what it once was. I can only hope my Australia doesn’t get replaced with a new version, rendering the original irretrievable forever.

The Second Time Around
And now I must get back to writing “FinalEssay2.doc,” my nerves are still a bit electric, yet my senses are heightened, and my awareness that loss produces creativity and thought beyond the norm are fresh on my mind. The number two title of my in-progress second essay is a constant reminder that what once was can never be again—but I have gained creativity that will make it even better the second time around.