parenthesis | pəˈrɛnθɪsɪs |
noun (plural parentheses | pəˈrɛnθɪsiːz |)
2 an interlude or interval
in parenthesis
as a digression or afterthought
parenthetist | pəˈrɛnθɪtɪst
noun
1 a person who exists in an interlude or interval; a person in a state of digression
2 a practicing adherent of the art and philosophy of the in-between
The Parenthesis is a project that explores:
What if you dug up the foundations of your life, threw it all out, and began again?
How long can the indefinite go on?
How many tangents can one be indulged to explore before the absolute intervenes?
Allow me to set the scene…
The short version:
34. No fixed address. No car. No boyfriend. No career. No idea (but also many).
The long version:
The parenthesis began in April this year when I left my full time job as a marketer in financial services with no plans to move into another role, bringing to a close ten years of working in big corporates in London.
Not only was this the end of an era, it was the unravelling of a way of being that had been fundamentally woven into my way of life and my identity for over a decade.
I ended my lease on the cute-but-far-too-cold stable conversion in the tiny village of Mentmore, Buckinghamshire, in May, my home for the last 3 years, packing up a two-bedroom house’ worth of possessions and putting them in storage.
At the beginning of June I drove 13 hours to Provence in the South of France with my boyfriend, spending two months in the village of Seillans with my family who had flown over from Australia.
Towards the end of our trip, my mum serendipitously wrote off my car in a minor accident with a rock (Provence 1-Nissan Juke 0) – a blessing in that it saved me from having to drive it back to the UK and sell it.
After returning to England I spent a few weeks in Oxford with my boyfriend before leaving for an extended trip to Australia mid-August. I wanted to make the most of my newfound freedom, no longer curtailed by annual leave restrictions, but intended to be back some time before Christmas.
A few weeks into the trip, my boyfriend and I agreed to ‘consciously uncouple’; we mutually recognised that our time in a romantic relationship was at end, but we were committed to remaining friends.
And thus my last remaining concrete anchor to the UK, and my previous life, was removed – my amazing network of friends there notwithstanding.
Since leaving my job I’ve freelanced as a writer, and brand and content strategist, earning enough to live a fairly charmed life and travel, whilst still making a serious dent in my savings.
I write this housesitting from my friend’s home in Balmain, Sydney, one of a series temporary homes generously opened up to me in the past 6 months.
I’m not sure exactly what the future holds, but I’m slowly starting to get a sense of what it could. I am gathering ideas and visions, discarding some, keeping others, whilst still leaving an exciting dose of blank space for the universe to fill in.
Welcome to The Parenthesis.
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