It’s been nearly a year since I’ve written anything new. I’ve had the most eventful year and nothing to say.
I turned 31 this year and I sat down and realized that I’ve become everything that I never thought I wanted to be.
When I first quit my job and said ‘fuck it’ to everything, I was 24. All I wanted was strange adventures, beautiful men and a permanent tan. This went on for a couple of years. I bought one way ticket, and I didn’t look back. I had no money, no clue, and no fear. Generally a recipe for disaster. I traveled for a few years; always broke, no fixed address, new cities, new faces, foreign sounds and a semi permanent tan.
Certain circumstances brought me back home, and when I got home, I was depressed. I said I’d stick around for a few months, save up a few pennies and buy a one way ticket to Mexico where I would spend a few years making my way through Mexico, Central and South America. That was 5 years ago, almost to the date. When I got home, I said I would never give a shit about having a nice car, a nice house and all that shit that adults are supposed to want. I would always do what I loved and never be tied down to material things.
I used to think people that drove BMWs were fucking pricks. I now drive an Audi… close enough. I’m a fucking prick. I recently bought my first house… it has a yard and I love to spend my weekends at Home Depot. My seedlings have started to sprout and I am legitimately excited to plant my very own little garden this weekend. I adopted a dog earlier this year and I got my first foster dog 3 days ago.
The girl that refused to ever have any real responsibility has nothing but responsibility now. I actually have not one, but TWO living beings in my house and depend on me to live. Although, to be fair, my dog lived on the reserve for a few years before he came to live with me. I softened him up, he sleeps on a memory foam bed and rolls in an Audi, he’s not equipped to deal with real life anymore. I have turned my dog into a little bitch.
Anyways, the point I am trying to get at is not that my dog is a little bitch, but that I’m the little bitch. When I came home from my time wandering aimlessly around the world, I said I would never become any of those things. I would devote my life to travel, adventure, and philanthropist endeavours. I promised to save all the puppies and orphans.
I am digressing here.
I enjoy my job most days, I find it challenging and I’m mentally stimulated even though I sit in a cubicle.
I love my car. I used to drive around this shitbox Mazda and every time I got into it, I wondered if I was going to die in it. I shouldn’t feel bad about owning a nice car that gets me safetly to and from my destination, one that I can take out on road trips and not worry about breaking down and having to offer blow jobs to truckers to get me to the next destination (if TV has taught me anything, it’s that hitchhikers must give blow jobs).
I don’t live out of a back pack anymore. I have more than 6 shirts, most of them are clean. I get to put things away nicely in their places. It’s actually quite incredible how settling this can be.
I recently moved into my new home and renovated the kitchen. I honestly felt proud when I put up the new tiles on my kitchen backsplash and when I made that first mortgage payment. Hey everyone! Look at me! I’m in debt FOREVER. You know what is fucked up? The reason why I ever started looking for a house is so my dog could have a yard. Even just a year ago, I vowed I would never give up the single girl downtown lifestyle; and now here I am, in the burbs, with my dog and my yard. I basically bought my dog a house.
The point of this post was, I’ve become everything that I said I never wanted to be and I don’t feel guilty or shameful about it either. I don’t feel embarrassed that I drive a nice car and have a home to call my very own. It doesn’t upset me that I now have a job that pays my bills and I’m not scrounging up my change to buy my next meal.
As exciting as my once adventurous life was, I don’t know that I would want to do it again. Sure, I miss it the excitement of living life on the road continuously, but I don’t miss the days when I had no money, lived in an apartment with 6 other people, and ate Nutella out of the jar and nothing else because I couldn’t afford anything else.
I used to look down on people like me. I always felt that people like me were missing the point of life. Some days I do hate the monotony of it all, but most days I’m pretty happy; but regardless of what life is lived, not every day is perfect. Nothing makes me happier than coming home and seeing my dog pressing his little nose up against the window waiting for me to come home from work. It is actually the best thing, when I open the door and his tail is wagging so hard his entire body is swaying side to side. I don’t need to jump out of airplanes for the excitement anymore. The biggest smile of my day is when my dog licks my face even though I know he’s probably spent a period of the day licking his own asshole.
I never expected to live this long, I always imagined I would die stupidly because I never understood consequences. I always had this vision of who I would become, and life doesn’t always work out the way you plan. In fact, life NEVER works out the way you plan. People change, feelings change, circumstances change and I had to learn to roll with it or live a life of disappointment and missed opportunity. I suppose I could die tomorrow, but what happens if I don’t? Would I continue to try to force an envisioned life that makes no sense to who I am as a person today?
I never thought I wanted to be an adult, but it turns out I am a fucking adult, and you know what? I’m ok with that.