Sunday 27 January 2013

Bloody Hell - I'm a Grown Up


Bloody hell, I'm turning 22 next weekend. Being 22 is a very boring age I imagine. 21 is supposed to be the wild year, the last of your youth. I spent most of mine being too poor to do anything, but also spent a lot of time on or in the sea, so swings and roundabouts I suppose.
Being 22 has connotations of getting a grip on your life, of putting a solid plan into place. The only thing with making plans, I've found, is that they have a way of jinxing you. You can be sure that just as soon as you've made a great plan, something or someone will come along to throw it off course a bit.

I suppose that is true to my 'plan'. I've been trying to save to go away travelling, but money has seriously been playing for the other team. My van broke so many times in the last year that I have downright given up on it, it sits on my drive like a little blue turd, reminding me of the freedom it could offer me. But NO, just like you should when you think about getting back with an ex, I must remember the stress it caused me, the ill treatment and the inconvenience it brought to my life. I am positively better off without it. But it is so cute....

I now am finding myself having to compromise with my dream year away, swapping time in a more expensive area (such as south America) for more time in a cheaper area (such as India). This is definitely not the end of the world, for all I know it will all work out perfectly. But I planned it all so well. I gave myself so much time. And still it all seems to be crumbling away, with me scrambling at the bottom, helplessly trying to hold it all together, catching bits of rubble and getting dust in my eyes.

I was about to give up on plans all together, but then I thought of a world without plans. I imagine that without plans, a lot of us would accidentally dwindle away our time and one day wake up, wishing we had done so much more.

The thing is, sometimes the distractions from the the plan are a little too appealing. Are a little too easy to snuggle up with for a minute. And sometimes you are the distraction from someone else's plan, and all that you want is for them to put it off just a bit longer.

I always imagined that when I was in my twenties, I would have it all figured out, be living in some exotic country, writing or doing something outdoorsy - blissfully happy and alive. After uni I found my self severely knocked back with reality. I'd always believed that if you wanted something enough you could get it, you could do it or you could be it. Uni taught me a lot about that not being true. About reaching capacity. I learnt that I am not spectacular in one thing, but alright at a few things. That I didn't have the drive or ability to be a first class honours student. Post uni I've realised that no matter how big my will, I cannot create jobs and money and opportunities, I can merely give the whole thing my best shot.

I feel like I've been running with my eyes closed over a deadly assault course, having no expertise on the challenge, more just hoping for the best. I've definitely landed in the lava or fallen off the tight rope a few times, and I think that has thrown me back a bit. It sucks a bit of life out of you.

But there are some positives! I am going to be 22, with a good grade in a good degree, with great friends and family, a boyfriend that is as weird as me, a job (finally) and a plan that WILL eventually come to fruition. Wouldn't mind a lottery win though.

This year I pledge to work bloody hard, be bloody nice and snog bloody lots.

Samsara is Nirvana

That's all for now

Jojo xxx