Up until last week, I was living my life in London, broke and unmotivated, when my boss suggested I move to Portugal. “Don’t tempt me with a plane ticket,” I said. He kept his end of the bargain and so did I. Now, I sit in the magical city of Porto.
If you think about death…I mean, really think about it, you realise that you are, more likely than not, going to reach a point in your life where you are going to suffer. Most likely, it’ll be a physical pain that you’ve never experienced before, and you’re going to struggle. It’s going to hurt. And that pain could go on for hours and hours, or days. You don’t know the fate that life has in store for you. Does that scare you?
I left London. I left the chaos of London. I left the disappointment of England. I left behind the love/hate relationship that I was in with the country, with the city. While I know that living there made my dreams come true, professionally, I feel as though I have failed.
I won’t lie – the OCD in me makes sure that I post on this blog at least once a month so that I can keep up my months in the archive list. I have missed one month, somewhere along the line, but I’m just pretending that didn’t happen.
It’s February! And after much uncertainty, I am still at my writing job in London and I am still absolutely thriving and loving it. It makes such a difference to your life when you love what you do.
Before January gets away from me – I wanted to express the weird feeling that I have right now – it’s happiness. This is so strange for me – for the first time in my life I absolutely love my job and it’s made the world of different to my life.
Today was really something spectacular.
I’ve just come home from a holiday at my brothers place – not far from here, but a short plane ride away. It was a well-needed time off but along with any family gatherings, there’s of course irritations and annoyances. Either way, I can honestly say that I was taken care of for a solid ten days and I was very grateful for that.
Sitting at my newly assembled desk from Amazon, that an ex helped me build two days ago (I say helped, I didn’t really do much at all) listening to my “writing music”. The music I used to put on and listen to through my headphones in Korea when the world seemed like a chaotic mess of people talking a language I didn’t understand. Somehow, it annoyed me. I hated hearing the different intonations. I hated that I understood some of it and for that reason, couldn’t block it out but instead trying to configure what they were saying all of the time. I though the world would be much better surrounded by a language you did understand.