Ever since I was young, I wanted to travel. Yes, that’s a very broken record-esque expression. But it’s also the truth. Since graduating from university, travel is all I’ve done. No regrets mind, but home now means working my ass off and not having a social life since I need to save every little penny I can. Friends have moved on and I’m left waiting in an awkward no-man’s-land, where I’m living with my parents, patronised by mind-numbing jobs, all the while holding a good degree and the oomph to go someplace.
I’m searching for something, be that adventure, love or natural phenomenon, but home is home. There’s no changing that. I want both roots and wings.
A brief interlude to typing my scrappy travel journal
I like to self-sabotage myself and I have a tendency for drama, as this quote from my journal demonstrates: “Endless situations have since overwhelmed me”. This is me regarding a recently booked flight, or possibly the discovery of a new ice-cream shop. I can easily adopt the brooding artistic temperament, which, FYI, is not at all romantic. I turn into this selfish, ugly cloud that consumes the entire house, pregnant with senseless frustration and annoyance at something.
My family refers to me as their dead limb and tend to snap me out of this ridiculous mood. There’s my mum, a tiny pixie of a woman who has an ice cold resting face and a very funny penguin walk. My nan who doesn’t know the meaning of the phrase, “Think before you speak”. We had my great-uncle’s funeral the other week and as his frail widow walked past us, my nan nodded after her and loudly said, “She’ll be next”.
My sister adults every family member who isn’t capable of adulting (so everyone), while pulling mad swerves in our car to avoid hitting a pigeon. After her first day at university, she rang to tell me how she got so drunk the night before that she didn’t make it out and had to be called a cab, despite being five houses up from her own house. When she finally returned home, she then managed to cut her eyebrow on the toilet seat. After that she got ran into by a car in Sainsbury’s carpark. Then she got hospitalised for a kidney infection. It was an eventful first year for both her and the family.
I manage to overlook certain obvious things, like the fact that my car had gone after my sister had spent the previous four days looking for a replacement. Last week, I locked myself out of the house and then had to scale the back wall to go through the backdoor I thankfully left open since no one was home. At university, I shared a house with two other guys. One brought financial experience, the other DIY and culinary skills. I, on the other hand, have the tendency to not even notice where the electricity metre was kept. Or, if we even had one.
The point is, things tend to work themselves out. There is no sense in moping around becoming frustrated in the quiet times. Your present situation may not be Insta-worthy or Twitter-ific, but in time it’ll turn around. Life naturally twists and turns. There’s no rush – you’ve got to enjoy the little things, as broken record-esque as that sounds.