We go through life wishing and hoping and dreaming. We set goals and inspirations. We draw futures to our stories. Our happy endings. We list things that we want to do, things we want to be known for. Happy, content, wise, a traveller....
Ive always dreamed of being a vagabond. Of being able to shed all materialistic needs and ideals, to just pick up and leave. The most romantic of all dreams. But I know my limitations, understand that underneath, no matter how much I try to pretend its possible, its not. I like a roof over my head, a comfortable bed, my own bathroom, my own things. My shoes, my handbags, my books. My shrine to all the lands and seas I have traveled across and to.
This year has been a real slow year for me. Ive barely traveled, or barely traveled as much as I would have liked. The Boyfriend and I made small trips around our country, stopped by in cute quaint towns and glass rooms in the middle of nothingness. I traveled a distance to see the beautiful details of Spain, breathe in the blood of the bullfights and feel the soul of Andalusia.
The Boyfriend though... managed to hike the mountains of Kashmir, lived in a boat in the backwaters of India, stayed in the most expensive hotel in Singapore, walked and sang the night away in Korea and is living breathing Abu Dhabi. He has made extensive plans for Yemen, and Jordan and Egypt and dreams of Saudi Arabia and Ethiopia.
I envy him. The Boyfriend who leaves me behind when he goes on all his travels. Who insists that he does not want to be like friends who have suddenly gone MIA when they have partners. He has made plans for 2009, and they mostly do not involve me, though I have made him promise at least a trip with me. Maybe to Egypt, Jordan, or the Maldives.
So I sulked, and moped, while waiting for him to call me. Wishing he was missing me, yet knowing I only wanted him to have a real good time without me. After all at the end of it all, he always comes home.
While I sulked, a few friends decided for an impromptu trip to god knows where. So they sat in my house and flew a few options before we decided that the simplest of all was to make a road trip to Singapore.
And we went! we drove, we talked, we mostly fought over trying to keep the ipod on the right radio frequency. We bunked/ crashed actually at our friends suite in the St. Regis, somehow the poshest road trip I could make on as little money as I could afford. We went to museums after they switched to free admission hours, lounged by the pool, walked by the beach, and drank while we listened to the jazz festival (actually, it was a bunch of kids singing jazz songs... Singapore tends to hype things up hmm...)I danced, and yelled, and called my friends in London just to tell them I was drunk of my mind. Drove with a friend and ate at the hawker stall early in the morning.
I created and adventure for me. Even though it was almost nothing, a slow trip of nothings. It was something. It was a change, it was moving. It was watching something different.
I promise myself, I need to make more of life now. Now that The Boyfriend is off on his own adventures, it motivates me to go off on my own too. Maybe drive to small towns in this country. Fly the weekends to cute areas in Asia. Take some time off and ride horses in the countryside of Mongolia.
I could sit around and mope and scream why me, why cant I get sent overseas, why cant I have enough money to go out with friends.
Or I could sit, plan out my expenses, be disciplined about everything, and plan not so impromptu weekends inside and outside.
No mopping, no sulking, no more feeling apologies...
Ive always dreamed of being a vagabond. Of being able to shed all materialistic needs and ideals, to just pick up and leave. The most romantic of all dreams. But I know my limitations, understand that underneath, no matter how much I try to pretend its possible, its not. I like a roof over my head, a comfortable bed, my own bathroom, my own things. My shoes, my handbags, my books. My shrine to all the lands and seas I have traveled across and to.
This year has been a real slow year for me. Ive barely traveled, or barely traveled as much as I would have liked. The Boyfriend and I made small trips around our country, stopped by in cute quaint towns and glass rooms in the middle of nothingness. I traveled a distance to see the beautiful details of Spain, breathe in the blood of the bullfights and feel the soul of Andalusia.
The Boyfriend though... managed to hike the mountains of Kashmir, lived in a boat in the backwaters of India, stayed in the most expensive hotel in Singapore, walked and sang the night away in Korea and is living breathing Abu Dhabi. He has made extensive plans for Yemen, and Jordan and Egypt and dreams of Saudi Arabia and Ethiopia.
I envy him. The Boyfriend who leaves me behind when he goes on all his travels. Who insists that he does not want to be like friends who have suddenly gone MIA when they have partners. He has made plans for 2009, and they mostly do not involve me, though I have made him promise at least a trip with me. Maybe to Egypt, Jordan, or the Maldives.
So I sulked, and moped, while waiting for him to call me. Wishing he was missing me, yet knowing I only wanted him to have a real good time without me. After all at the end of it all, he always comes home.
While I sulked, a few friends decided for an impromptu trip to god knows where. So they sat in my house and flew a few options before we decided that the simplest of all was to make a road trip to Singapore.
And we went! we drove, we talked, we mostly fought over trying to keep the ipod on the right radio frequency. We bunked/ crashed actually at our friends suite in the St. Regis, somehow the poshest road trip I could make on as little money as I could afford. We went to museums after they switched to free admission hours, lounged by the pool, walked by the beach, and drank while we listened to the jazz festival (actually, it was a bunch of kids singing jazz songs... Singapore tends to hype things up hmm...)I danced, and yelled, and called my friends in London just to tell them I was drunk of my mind. Drove with a friend and ate at the hawker stall early in the morning.
I created and adventure for me. Even though it was almost nothing, a slow trip of nothings. It was something. It was a change, it was moving. It was watching something different.
I promise myself, I need to make more of life now. Now that The Boyfriend is off on his own adventures, it motivates me to go off on my own too. Maybe drive to small towns in this country. Fly the weekends to cute areas in Asia. Take some time off and ride horses in the countryside of Mongolia.
I could sit around and mope and scream why me, why cant I get sent overseas, why cant I have enough money to go out with friends.
Or I could sit, plan out my expenses, be disciplined about everything, and plan not so impromptu weekends inside and outside.
No mopping, no sulking, no more feeling apologies...
