I’m struggling to be home. Perhaps this is a ridiculous observation, but it has already been five days since I got back from Thailand and I am still trying to escape or downplay the suffocating mantra playing in my head: I’m sick of here.
I think I’m a pretty patriotic person. I get annoyed often when people piss off overseas to “escape” South Africa. You shouldn’t go somewhere to get away from somewhere else. If you want to go somewhere it should be because “there” is where you want to be, and not because “here” is where you don’t want to be. Does that make sense?
Except that I’m struggling with “here” now. I haven’t really before. Ok, I lie. I have once before. When I was 18. I am now 31. I should be a bit less crisis-sy. And yet all I want to do is pack away my life and piss off because I am so mind-numbingly over the proverbial rat race that I could scream. The holiday I took was supposed to fix that, but instead it seems to have simply accentuated it.
I think I’m tired of living in this Westernized world where everything seems to be about pressure. Pressure to have the right kind of job and make the right kind of money and drive a decent car and buy a house and have fancy gadgets and blah blah blah blah blah.
I met the coolest guy just over a week ago. Do you know what he does for a living? He hops on a boat and takes people to Phi Phi Island every day. Do you know what happens there? Nothing. You eat. You drink. You swim. You catch a tan. You snorkel. You do nothing. It’s fucking awesome. This man has the best job in the world. Every single day he gets to experience happiness. Because all that nothing comes with a fuckton of happiness that none of all this other shit we aspire to brings. He makes people happy. He gives people the experience of a lifetime. Every. Single. Day.
And what do we aspire to? Go to school. Go to college. Get a good job. Make lots of money.
Fuck that ideal. It’s stupid.