I bet you can guess what my minds been on.
and it's not these candy-coated, chocolate covered sunflower seed that i'm not quite sure whether I like or not. It's like nutty, odd smarties. If they used high quality chocolate these would totes be the new it thing.
Anyway, as per usual my minds been on my next adventure. All I can think about lately is how much I just want to go and run and party and just..... be. I think it's a bit of a liberation issue. When I'm here every 5 seconds I have someone telling me I can't do something. The only time I really got told that on my last gallavant was when I was extremely drunk in Amsterdam and thought getting a tattoo was "like, the best idea EVER!!!" Probably for the best as I would've gotten "Dutch Boys Are Hot!" or something of the like on my ass or forehead. (Seriously tallest country in the world. http://ca.askmen.com/top_10/travel/top-10-tallest-countries.html says that the average is 6'0". A nation where the average male is running around being 6'. That means a lot of them are taller. Excuse me while I pack my rucksack for Amsterdam.)
So now it's all about getting there again. And to Australia. And to Africa. And to South America. And through the bits of North America I don't feel I've familiarized myself with enough yet.
Travel doesn't just provide me with an opportunity to be seriously reckless and daring, but it also aids in the all to familiar dialouge about my life after college and the initial little trip that most assume was more than enough. News flash: it's not. I haven't seen Spain OR England. Does that sound like enough for you?! People ask me what I want to do now, I say travel, most accept that and ask how long. When I go "oh, about 11 years." That's when the bug eyedness begins. There are two basic reactions to travelling longer than a year. The first, and most common is a look of shock, and cynism, "You're crazy." to which I respond, "why, yes I am, thank you!"
The other day my brother's girlfriend told him that he couldn't just drop 2 grand on a plane ticket. Why not?! If ya have it go!
I've come to learn that reactions with negative responses really mean, "I'm jealous. I wish I had the guts to say 'Peace out, have a nice bit!' while hoisting a backpack and running to the door." Think about it, whenever work sucks our natural response is to pack up and run away. Kids run away, adults quit jobs and throw glitter at their bosses face. We all have a flight or fight instinct, so lets do both now hey?
The less common response is an openly interested/admitting jealousy one. The "where do you plan to go? How long are you staying?" ones. They're my favorite. I will note that they often do say that I'm crazy, but in a more, crazy is good way.
Of course, as the pessimistic, jealous, annoying people know do have a point. There are things to consider. Money being the big one. I do plan to work while there, but it's not like while I'm there and I can pop my hair in pigtails, put on a pot of my delicious chilli and make a hefty withdrawl from the bank of Daddy. I could call and get a transfer in mega emergency situations though.
Anyway, that's not the point, the point is I need to work and save my patookas off while I'm here.
I also have to consider that I'm absolutely and completely terrified of landing in London, walking up to an immigration officer and upon being asked where I'm staying go, "If I can't find something, I reckon I'll just pitch tent in a park or alley or whatever." Mind you this time I'm going in as an Italian so maybe I get to skip all that....
GAH! I need to, well I need to chill. I'm really thinking about Au Pairing first, just for a year. I think it'll really help ground me in the continent and I can meet all kinds of fab people!
I'm not sure what to do and it really sucks. Tips? Advice? Happy Thoughts? Good Karma?!
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Last semester, I took a course called "Introduction to Poetry". At the time I don't suppose it really sank in, but just now it's hit me that I'm really nowhere near as good a writer as I always thought. Now, I don't want to sound at all conceited, but the fact of the matter is that English has always been my strongest subject, and I always thought that I could basically pull a composition out of a hat: it was just that easy. Last semester, though, we pulled poems apart until all that remained of their beautiful fabric was the bare threads. And it made me realize how very meaningless my own compositions had always been: completely shallow, and utterly devoid of value. I wish someone had properly told me how to compose an extended metaphor, or really dwelt emphatically on the differences between metonymy and synecdoche. There is so much I have yet to learn... I only hope I have a chance to do so.
Posted by roses_are_red at 11:57 PM