I've been here for five weeks and two days, and I've got six weeks minus one day left. El tiempo va volando.
This summer has been an accelerated representative of a feeling that sometimes threatens to overwhelm me, this sense that life is running out from under my feet and I haven't done enough with it to merit the time that's already passed. Perhaps it's not that I haven't done enough, but I haven't done enough of the right thing. I've got three months left of college, and then I have to figure out some kind of plan; that came up so fast. Why didn't I backpack through Central America for a summer? Why didn't I pick up everything and move to Brazil for a quarter? Why haven't I spent the past five weeks learning to dance to reggaeton and meeting Chileans and drinking pisco sours until 5 in the morning?
Not that I can't do all these things now, or in the future, but it's different, you know. Now at the back of everything, there has to be some kind of end goal, or stability, or promise of something to come. I need a permanent job, I need to not rely on my parents forever, I need to grow up and be responsible and financially independent and... sedentary? To some degree, that's what it feels like.
I'm not good at not having a plan; not long-term, anyway. I can go out of town for a weekend without booking a place to stay and know that I'll find something - wow, true risk-taker here. But when I think about what I'd like to do most after graduating--grab a backpack and move back to Chile, work as a page designer for a local newspaper for six months then take the next three to explore the country from top to bottom--all I can hear is all the reasons why that wouldn't work. Where would I stay? Would I meet people or would it be three months of loneliness? What if I got sick? What if I were robbed and had no way of getting home? What if, what if, what if...until the dream just dies a quiet death in the back of my mind.
I've talked to so many people who have done just that - picked up and left, moved to a city they loved, no prospects, not even the whisper of a prospect. It sounds so novel-worthy and romantically adventurous, so bold and youthful and impetuous. And talking to the editor from Rtrs--she stressed over and over again that this is the time of my life to do it. What attachments do I have right now? No spouse, no kids, no house, no settled job; I'm young, malleable, adaptable, and ready to be out on my own. This is the time for adventures. But I feel like all the big, beautiful, daring dreams that are tumbling about in my head become absolutely terrifying when I start thinking about making them a reality.
It could be that I'm just a tame person best suited for a tame life.
I'm not really okay with that.
Reading (full on summer)
6 days ago