I'm finding myself at the mercy of a hefty batch of jetlag, and having spent hours lying in bed trying to get myself to sleep for several nights in a row, frankly, I don't care. if I get any of the bar jobs I'm applying for, it'll be a blessing in disguise.
stayin' up late, doin' some thinkin'... it's funny, because as soon as a sad song came on I got this weird twinge, like it threw me back to the ridiculous nights I spent listening to sad songs on this sofa in the last few years. I don't know, probably like seeing someone you used to know well after a while, or something.
totally can't imagine somebody else making a shitbunch more memories in this house.
I've also got that familiar... what's the word... not concern, not anxiety so much as... anticipation, lingering at the back of my mind. you know that feeling you get when you start to comprehend the new levels of change edging their way, or perhaps not so subtly moving towards you. it's a stomach turner, for sure. I often confuse it with impending danger or trouble, like some sort of mentally simple animal.
I've accepting my course at UEL, I'm changing my course to include marketing as joint honours because I figure it's pretty useful and... widely used, or something. I've made that awful mistake that you don't expect people who aren't lawyers or doctors or organised to make, which is planning out the next 15-20 years of my life. I'd like it if I could stick to it, though.
travelling was quite incredible. I wasn't expecting perfection. my bizarrely pessimistic brain was pretty convinced there would be far more obstacles. but whatever bad I felt inside my own head was negated, because any time I thought something shitty to myself I could look out a window and think "fuck. I'm in a place I have never, ever been before, may never be again, with two of the best people I know". I think when you're in that position it kind of kick-starts you, it's hard to not be constantly amazed.
I really hoped that leaving for four weeks would make me miss home. it's not even about the people, it's nothing to do with that I didn't want "home", whatever the hell that is now. I didn't want to come back to england for good, I didn't want to settle back here, I wanted to keep going, or to stay away. I think maybe on some level I wanted not to cope.
I suppose really though, thinking about it is ridiculous, because I'm nineteen and it was a month, but I really wanted to feel something more on that plane, wanted something to be reversed.
in any case, I have a strong suspicion I'll do the whole travelling for 20 years thing, and then decide I want to come back and have kids in fucking tonbridge or something.
it's funny though, because I was always that kid on trips, at primary school we'd go away for four, five days, and my friends would be crying about missing home... I felt like I was missing an instinct or something. it looked and seemed natural for a nine year old to be confused and scared being away from home for the first time.
ohwull, I'm fully aware there are a lot of people who feel this way, and a lot of people who bend to the other extreme at some point. plus, it's not even a big deal. if I don't want to be here, I just don't be here, it's like who cares, right? worse things happen at sea.
worst comes to worst, I'm a robot.
