Scribbles on a train headed east on August 16, 2013

Well, here I am.

My life as a wanderer has begun.

Allow me to explain. I have just given in my flat keys, put my last few bulky belongings into storage, and clambered onto an antique of a train headed east. I am headed to Edinburgh for work.

Food for today has mainly consisted of biscuits and water – I had a bad stomach a few days ago, so dry food was really good. My food bag is a crinkly orange Sainsbury’s bag. At least I’m reusing it, right?

Just before the train left Glasgow, a flock of young women realised they were on the wrong one, grabbed their luggage and rushed out. I have often felt this – sometimes in performances that are not about anything I can particularly relate to; other times, it is often simply a feeling of foreboding about a decision I am about to make or an appointment I am about to arrange. Performances are very similar to real life; I haven’t yet walked out of a performance, but it would be nice to have the strength to. Yet it’s such a final action – you can’t go back in. It takes a lot of commitment to walk out of a show, just as it takes a lot of commitment to give yourself fully to a decision you’ve made and not look back.

I guess that’s sort of what I did today. Or well, what my lack of intelligent planning and inaction has culminated in. I am out. No flat, a job that doesn’t pay enough for rent, and relying on friends’ whims to let me live on their couch for a week.

My suitcase is in Edinburgh in friend A’s flat. After the 19th I will be moving to friend B’s flat so that I don’t become a burden for anyone. After that, who knows?

I’ve got some viewings set up, but I’m still a bit nervous about the entire endeavour. Part of me is saying I should relish the adventure of not knowing what I am going to do, but another part of me is crying out in fear. This latter part really wants to give up and go home to Cyprus.

And a third part thinks I should move to France. It wouldn’t result in me doing anything exhilarating, but I could look for work there until I can earn some money to take a translation exam for a certificate. They recommend three years experience, but where do I get experience?

I don’t know.

I do want to travel. I guess with a part-time unsalaried job based on commissioning articles I can definitely say the world is my oyster, and opens up before me, opportunities are mine for the taking.

I don’t want to fail my family. I realised I do miss them; not out of a need to be with them all the time, but just having that support, you know? Someone to tell you you’re being an eejit but always willing to hug you and pat you on the shoulder when you need a good cry.

I guess periods make me quite emotional. But there’s nothing wrong with that, is there? Emotion isn’t all bad. Maybe I should go back to Cyprus and sort my head out – figure out my next move. But then, I have a job here. Jobs don’t last forever, though. I have a yearning to leave; to get out and change and adapt. It’s not that Scotland isn’t a place of opportunity, but it just seems to be letting me get very comfy and forget I can dream.


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