Melancholy Midnight Musings.

This blog entry should be taken with a grain of salt. This is a case study for why I should not be allowed to stay up past midnight listening to iTunes on shuffle. Because when I do, I draw conclusions like these . . .

I don't know why I'm here.

Actually, I should qualify that statement. I know exactly why I'm here. I am here to learn. I am here to travel. I am here to live. I am here to spend four months experiencing life in the English speaking west's most grand and historical city. I am here to give my mind and body a rest. I'm on holiday. I'm doing this because it's good for me.

What I don't understand is why I keep uprooting and abandoning.

This is a common theme with me. I am very much a home-body. I find a niche and settle down and build myself a modest, comfortable little home. From time to time, I leave this home. I'm called on to the next adventure. Maybe it's because I think there's more out there for me. Maybe I just outgrow the home I build for myself. I'm not quite sure. Regardless, I packed up my life and move to a new town, a new state, a new country.

This is really good for me. I am very quick to plant myself and I believe it is in my best interest to savagely rip up my roots and move to the next place every now and then. I know it's good for me. But I don't always like it. It leaves me with the horrible aftertaste of abandonment.

You see, every time I rip up these roots and relocate, I leave people behind. I don't think it really occured to me until I graduated from high school . . . I can't bring those I love with me on all my adventures. I love making new connections, forging new friendships and cementing these ridiculous, co-dependent bonds I seem to be so fond of. But when I pack up and leave, I usually leave them behind.

I know this is how it works. I know they do the same thing. In a perfect world, I'd continue meeting people and I'd just amass everyone and they'd always be with me, though I know that this is never possible. At the same time, that doesn't stop me wanting it. I also feel like this elementary principle of life is something I should have realized long before my high school graduation.

Two weeks ago, I did it again. I packed my bags, grabbed my passport and jetted off to new adventures. Terrifying and wonderful, I’ve plunged in headfirst and have been doing the best I know how. I am in a foreign country. I am not alone by any means. I do have friends here. It’s just different. I just left so much behind and yet there’s so much around me to remind me of all that’s missing. It’s wonderful and awful all at the same time.

The last time I was home (meaning Sudbury home), I realized that I can’t ever go home again. I could tell I was outgrowing the town long ago, but I didn’t think I was outgrowing the people. I fought that one really hard. This last time was the first time that I felt like they’d outgrown me.

Now, what has brought on this melancholy, slightly clichéd blog post, one might ask? I’ve just been thinking. That’s all. What starts it? Anything, really. Someone on the street who looks very familiar, a funny street sign I think someone else would laugh at, a song that pops up on my iTunes shuffle, an extremely expensive phone call back to the states for a fleeting instant of familiar voices, finding old videos in my computer . . . lots of things trigger it.

I think this funk will lift once we have internet in the flat. Then, I’ll be able to Skype and Video chat and take advantage of all those wonderful communication methods the internet lays at my feet. My mood and melancholy will definitely improve with internet. How sad is that? Hello, social commentary.

I’m just being silly. I know it. You know it. It’s OK. I feel that I’m allowed to be silly on occasion.

I spend half my life missing things. I spend the other half of my life loving every second at any given moment. Sometimes, those two things intersect. And that’s OK.