I'm not impulsive.
I live for weighing the pros against the cons and don't really see the point of doing things unless I'm 100% committed to seeing them through.
Trips take months of deliberation and then months of planning. Even when I'm out shopping, I know what I want before entering the store and if I don't find the specific item I'm looking for, I won't purchase anything.
When things are out of my control, my movements are stilted and awkward and I radiate unease. I need to plan and organize and control. (Really, I'm a nightmare for the impulsive people in my life.) And don't get me wrong; I love spontaneity and am a spontaneous person, but rash decisions and flights of whimsy? That's not my style. The few times I've acted impulsively in the past have hurt me, so I shy away from acting on my impulses.
2012 was supposed to be the year I moved back to Montreal. I did plan for it and I definitely anticipated it, but I didn't realize this plan -- a fact that left me feeling restless for the entirety of 2013. (Not moving to Montreal in 2012 was one of the meanest things I've ever done to myself.) And to add to that restlessness, I'm now realizing that I cannot let go of so many persons, experiences, things because I associate so many of my memories (happy or otherwise) with Canada.
I love Canada. It's my home. But in order to really let go of things, I need to leave -- and I don't mean a short trip like the ones I take to see my sisters in the US or Germany. I mean a real trip with just myself for company. It's something I've wanted to do ever since I was in grade 12: fly off to Brazil or Guyana and fend for myself. Obviously this plan fell through before it really fully materialized, but the desire to leave Edmonton and live on my own was always there. It's why I went to Montreal in 2008; it's why I have an incurable case of wanderlust.
But a trip to Guatemala? That's something I will do; whether I go on said trip this year or next, I'm committed to going there for at least two months. I want to help the people of Guatemala, I want to make a difference, I want to leave Canada (for a bit); I need this for myself. So far I've narrowed the organizations I want to help out. I'd much prefer working with orphaned kids in Guatemala, but my second choice is working with some of the wildlife. And, finally, my third choice would be to work with the indigenous peoples.
No matter which organization I choose to work with, I know at least one thing: I'm finally doing it. I'm going to Guatemala for a time and I'm ridiculously excited. The kind of excited you get when you feel like you're on the brink of something really amazing and scary. I haven't felt this way in a while; excited and confident and unstoppable. It's not an emotion I'm familiar with, but I figure that it's the kind of emotion that's so rare because it's meant to signal something bigger; it's meant to tell you that you're on the right path. It's not scary or intimidating; it's exhilarating and liberating.
I mean, I finally know what to do with my life for the next two years and I feel like I found a purpose.
Finally, a cure for my restlessness.
Trips take months of deliberation and then months of planning. Even when I'm out shopping, I know what I want before entering the store and if I don't find the specific item I'm looking for, I won't purchase anything.
When things are out of my control, my movements are stilted and awkward and I radiate unease. I need to plan and organize and control. (Really, I'm a nightmare for the impulsive people in my life.) And don't get me wrong; I love spontaneity and am a spontaneous person, but rash decisions and flights of whimsy? That's not my style. The few times I've acted impulsively in the past have hurt me, so I shy away from acting on my impulses.
2012 was supposed to be the year I moved back to Montreal. I did plan for it and I definitely anticipated it, but I didn't realize this plan -- a fact that left me feeling restless for the entirety of 2013. (Not moving to Montreal in 2012 was one of the meanest things I've ever done to myself.) And to add to that restlessness, I'm now realizing that I cannot let go of so many persons, experiences, things because I associate so many of my memories (happy or otherwise) with Canada.
I love Canada. It's my home. But in order to really let go of things, I need to leave -- and I don't mean a short trip like the ones I take to see my sisters in the US or Germany. I mean a real trip with just myself for company. It's something I've wanted to do ever since I was in grade 12: fly off to Brazil or Guyana and fend for myself. Obviously this plan fell through before it really fully materialized, but the desire to leave Edmonton and live on my own was always there. It's why I went to Montreal in 2008; it's why I have an incurable case of wanderlust.
But a trip to Guatemala? That's something I will do; whether I go on said trip this year or next, I'm committed to going there for at least two months. I want to help the people of Guatemala, I want to make a difference, I want to leave Canada (for a bit); I need this for myself. So far I've narrowed the organizations I want to help out. I'd much prefer working with orphaned kids in Guatemala, but my second choice is working with some of the wildlife. And, finally, my third choice would be to work with the indigenous peoples.
No matter which organization I choose to work with, I know at least one thing: I'm finally doing it. I'm going to Guatemala for a time and I'm ridiculously excited. The kind of excited you get when you feel like you're on the brink of something really amazing and scary. I haven't felt this way in a while; excited and confident and unstoppable. It's not an emotion I'm familiar with, but I figure that it's the kind of emotion that's so rare because it's meant to signal something bigger; it's meant to tell you that you're on the right path. It's not scary or intimidating; it's exhilarating and liberating.
I mean, I finally know what to do with my life for the next two years and I feel like I found a purpose.
Finally, a cure for my restlessness.
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