22 & not a clue

Tempus fugit has always been one of my dad's favourite Latin sayings. It mockingly hangs in the air betwixt beautiful consonants and two pairs of rhyming syllables.

After uni, time quite literally flies. Life begins to map itself out in terms of weekends. Something only your parents did, or so you thought. Trips and plans become your focus and before you know it it's March when yesterday it was January.

In six weeks I have moved out, held down a job, saved a substantial sum, had a no holes barred trip to Sydney & kept a nice lifestyle on the side. In just six weeks. It feels like I've been doing this forever. I'm happy. But I think it's time I shook things up a bit. 22 isn't the age to be comfortable. So I may bugger off to warmer climes, three days raining at 15 degrees will not do.

At this age, you want to be comfortable, but what you need is the swerving doubt constant in your life of will I make it? This isn't a challenge & I think, sadist that I am, that's what I need.

Spend more time doing what makes you happy and even more time doing things that have you on your fingernails. Because what else will you have to remember if you don't? That you had some savings & a job for a while. Was that it? When did you live?

Uncertainty is living. Do things that scare you.