I’m the girl who rushes into the library 5 minutes before closing time, racing to find books that teach Spanish.
As I proudly belt out my puny vocabulary to Pablo and the others on the Learn Spanish disc, I can’t fight a sense of pride and unashamed happiness. This pretty much sums up the past 2 months of my life- a crazy, last-minute burst of panic and excitement, ultimately ending with me grinning like whatever small mission I just completed will go down on the pages of history.
I would usually be the last to describe myself as spontaneous. A) Because I’m not, and B) Because, uh, who actually says that? So naturally, when I was catching up with two of my favourite people in the world yesterday and one of them declared me spontaneous, I was stunned (petrified, ecstatic, delirious)!!!
And then I thought about it.
I dropped a university course I loved, without any plans. I booked tickets to London. I moved into an unknown town and surrounded myself with complete strangers, and began to hunt for work. I fell in love with the place, and the people. I found a job. I lost it. I didn’t care. I found a new one. I loved it. I quit, to catch my first ever international flight alone. I made a friend on the plane. I flew into London without accommodation booked. I found some. I spent time with friends, I travelled alone, I made new friends. I travelled with my new friends. I stayed at some of their houses. I got to see a grand total of 14 new countries. I even made it home in one piece.
And here I am again, back in good ‘ol AUS, dashing between towns, my car filled with luggage, praying for a job and that the half tank of fuel and $50 that I have left will make the distance.
Uhh, maybe I am a little spontaneous these days? And I haven’t been happier.