Siberia

So here I am, two weeks in. Once again I find myself playing to people's expectations, fitting into a role they subconsciously define, and I half-consciously fulfil. This fucking caricature of myself, crossed with a stereotypical goofy Irishman. This yammering eejit who talks too much, who can no longer let silences reign for long. I'm like a hyperactive child. If I keep this up for much longer, nobody will be able to stand me. I won't be able to stand me.

Which brings me to the purpose of this whole trip. Primarily there are places I want to visit, to see, to experience and explore! To meet the Australians. To break from my daily routine at home. But I'll be returning to that.

Am I searching for something? For 'me'? To find myself? To find the future Ms Me? To show others I can do it - roam free for six months? But what kind of freedom ends at a comfy desk job? Am I still running from F? Trying to leave V and I behind? All the stupid things I've done over the past five years. What have I been doing for that time? Am I trying to make the couples jealous? Those who I can't help by envy. Settled, stable, happy.

Self-assessment is never positive at 1am. Fin.

Reflections on the day

Nothing beats a nice creamy pint of Guinness.

Having friends who make you dinner when you arrive unexpectedly is just great.

Settlers of Catan is a far simpler and more enjoyable game than expected.

"Have you got wood?" induces fits of giggles, even when innocently asked.

Ultimate unsent text

I could've, but didn't. I wouldn't, I couldn't, because it's not her. I want to tell her I miss her. I want to tell her I've made a terrible mistake. I want her back.

Late Sunday night

My head is brimming with thoughts, as it usually is at this time of night. Thoughts of what lies ahead for the week - dealing with the plumber, and perhaps a replacement boiler. Lots of driving practice to be done. Trying to negotiate a six month leave-of-absence with my boss, after he put two years' worth of work on my desk for this year. My eternal optimism that I might get up at 7am to go for a run before work. After five hours' sleep. It'll be the one escape from my head if I manage it.

yay

The traditional proverb states that it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all, but I'm beginning to disagree. You can't miss what you never had, and likewise, you don't know what you have 'til it's gone.

I'm despondent of late. My siblings have been bothering me, an eejit of a taxi driver used his indicator to assume automatic right-of-way over me on the way home. I feel trapped by the scouts, but the sense of letting them down if I were to pull out would be too much.

My friends are happily coupled... do I resent them? Is that what this is? With their apartments and houses that they call their own. Their separate lives entwined around and within each other, supporting, nurturing, helping, loving.

Instead I surround myself with stuff. Items. Goods. Things. The things I said I could live without. CDs. DVDs. Alcohol. yay.

NYE

Running. Racing. Travel.

Creativity

If one sits down with the intention of being creative, rather than the urge to be, the innate desire, the creativity is forced and false, a form of artificial intelligence.