I am not feeling particularly bloggerish lately. I mean, whats the point. I think too many people know who I am now. I'm going to have to start again. This time I'll be more careful. It was better when I was anonymous, unfettered.
I was able to write about anything, because I knew there was nothing holding me back.
It's 8:30 in the morning here in Sydney. The cold winter sun is disintegrating over the harbour. A lone ferry pushes its way through the icy grey water, and rippling, sand-like clouds drift overhead.
Steam rises from the tops of buildings in the city. The pavements recovering from the onslaught of rain from last night.
I didn't know what to do with myself last night. I was anxious, my stomach a knot of butterflies and insects.
I have resigned from my job. And now the voice inside me is saying "What are you going to do?"
Jamin-kun and I are going overseas. We are going to Europe. For a long time. It wasn't a spur of the moment thing. But now, I sense that we wanted to experience the freedom of just being able to say, "I am leaving, and I am leaving now." And so, with miminal planning, we leave in a month.
We will buy a campervan together, and then roam, nomadically, until we feel we’ve done enough.
Never have I ever travelled like this before. Never with nothing in front of me or behind me. We are simply going to go from one place to the next in the van, live out of the back, cook food on the stove, maybe work in farms along the way, perhaps get some fruit picking jobs in the summer. When we move out of the house in three weeks, we will get rid of everything, sell it, give it away, throw it our…and only have the back packs on our backs, and our passports.
We’ve worked out we can survive together for up to 10 months on the money we both have saved. That is, if we live like we’ve never lived before.
But I have always wanted to do that. Always wanted to get rid of the stereo, the TV, the phone, the mobile, the computer, the meaningless accessories we seem unable to live without.
But last night, I wandered around the house, not wanting to feel the knot of anxiety that was steadily growing.
Obviously this is going to take courage.
Well then. All I can do is go; try; live the way I’ve always wanted. At least so I can prove to myself that I am not made up of what I own. Or what I do. This post could get a touch philosophical. Or perhaps this blog has been philosophical all along, and I don’t even realise that this is what it’s been all about. Me trying to understand myself.
Why do something quite so extreme as leaving everything you know, and going somewhere where you have no security, no house, no money, no job, no life. What is it that deadens people if they stay in one place for too long. I’m sick of asking, and perhaps leaving now is my way of saying to myself, stop spouting ideas and philosophies, put yourself out there and experience.
I think this may be one of my last posts as Crayon.
Tomorrow I will be noone again.