I wrote a poem a long time ago about life and perseverance.(its long and I’ve been too lazy to type it out for this blog) Not about winning or losing, but pushing forward and making the best of your environment. I mean, what’s the point of taking like so seriously? Its not like any of us are gonna make it out alive anyways. (love that line)
Its basically a tug of war, between you and life.
Every minute. Every hour. Every day.
On a great day you feel like you’ve got life where you want her, just about to eat mud, but then she comes back and yanks the shit out of your rope and its back to even ground. I’ve found when you look at life like a big game of Survivor, things get more interesting.
After a piss poor day, instead of slinking home, dragging your corpse into your bedroom and pouring yourself into bed, all the while pleading for someone to end the lives of the 24 people that cut you off in traffic that day; Take a breath, close your eyes, smile, and wear the day you just had like a badge of honor. You got through it. You’re not lying face first in the mud, and tomorrow is another 24hrs to make things better. The best part, is that if Day 1 really blew that much. Day 2 can only get better. If not, just keep on, keepin’ on, until you end a day higher than the one before.
“Confused readers who?”
“What the hell does any of this have to do with Spain?
Yes. Right, sorry.
Anyhow, since starting this site and making the decision on Spain I’ve been in fairly high spirits. But today for no reason, I woke up, and my first thought was..yep, today’s gonna suck.
It turned out to be mediocre and all is well now, but at one point, I was just sitting in the sun thinking of all the things that might go wrong in Spain. Let me take you through the insanity.
I literally know 2 people there, what if I get bored on the weekends? Its not like I can just hang out with friends and family to kill time.
What if their produce is terrible? Where will I find good lettuce and tomatoes?
I hope the gym isn’t too expensive. I bet I won’t even have room for a physioball in my apartment.
What if I decide to stay for Christmas? It’ll be the first Christmas without family.
What if the job doesn’t work out? Then what?
With all these negative thoughts drilling holes into my brain, I just tried to relax, went to shoot some hoops, and after a few hours all of my worries had passed. Felt like one of those bastard black clouds that cover the sun for 10min during a peaceful sunny day.
I mean, sure, some of those concerns are warranted and I should be aware of them, but c’mon…produce?!?! That was honestly one of my worries! Some people worry about making mortgage payments and being able to feed their families and I spent a few hours today thinking about if I’d be able to get enough lycopene and vitamin B12. Ridiculous.
So I sit here, back to feeling a sort of giddy nervous excitement. Its like Barcelona is the foreign girl in the office I’ve been trying to get a date with for years, and she’s finally said yes. The possibilities are endless. I’ve realized that this trip can offer me something, that no matter how much I search right now, I can’t find seem in Ontario. A different perspective.
Perhaps its the circles in which I run, but it seems the imagination everyone had when they were younger is diminishing with every mortgage payment. I mean, I get it, I’ve heard it since I was 5. Find a job. Get married. Buy a house. Have kids. Support your family. Take vacations. Save your money. Retire. Try not to die on the toilet.
But that 1950s Leave it to Beaver Template isn’t on my radar at the moment. (if we were talking Happy Days though, I’d be the Fonz and run with it). Even when I had a serious girlfriend, I found once you pass the 2 year mark, everyone that’s engaged or married feels compelled to tell you its time to settle down and now you’re just wasting time. OR, you must just be too immature.
If this phenomenon could be filmed, it would be a B-movie where everyone that’s married is a Zombie chasing down the single male with engagement rings and Style@Home Magazines. To escape their Zombie wrath the protagonist is forced to hide out at bars and nightclubs or just stay up later than 1030pm on weekdays.
I’ll never forget one instance that made me laugh. After 2 years with a girlfriend I was in the midst of reconciling the relationship after a 3rd breakup within 6 months. To most people, (excluding myself) it was obvious the relationship was headed for the toilet, but a married friend of mine decided on another course of action, “Seriously, I just don’t understand why you two just don’t get married. You should just get married.” After five minutes of laughing by myself, I realized there was no punchline. That was serious advice. I’m guessing advice like that is probably why Tina and Ika Turner got married.
Either way, I couldn’t be happier for those that are joyfully married, because for them, that’s happiness. That’s enjoyment. That’s the view they may have wanted their entire lives. But for me, I’m looking through a different window.
In fitness and weight training I’ve read a thousand times, that once you reach a plateau, you should change your workout, “trick” your muscles and they are more likely to respond and continue to grow. I feel like I’ve reached a certain plateau in Canada (north america) and time within a different culture is ideal to the experiences I’m looking for. Because the last thing I want to do when I’m 40 or 50 is take a look in the rearview and think, “Shit, I wish I would’ve done that when I had the chance.”
Most moments I’m pretty nonchalant about this whole thing, I don’t see the move truly sinking in until I’ve been there a few weeks. I’m sure I’ll be sitting on a restaurant patio, espresso in hand, watching the tourists charge through the streets and I’ll just smirk.
I’m a local.