Re: Flying Dilemmas

The night before I got on the plane, I had written this post "Flying Dilemmas" where I talked about whether one wanted a hot guy to sit next to or an empty chair to sit next to. Well, given my luck, I sat next to a not-so-hot guy who was rather chatty. I mean, he was friendly and nice but I really just wanted to do my own thing (which includes sleeping, breathing loudly because of my chronic allergies, gasping really loudly at movies, constantly apply lip balm and moisturizer because of my dry skin, move around in my chair a lot because my legs are crampy, and basically just keeping to myself). 

As my lips are extremely dry, I kept applying my trusty Lucas’ Paw Paw Ointment balm on my lips. And this Mr. Chatty kept talking to me. He told me how his feet got bigger once he turned 40. He told me how he had 9 siblings and that he was the youngest. He told me how he’s lived in so many places that he had no idea where home is anymore. Anyways, the point is, he talked a lot and was very friendly and kind. Then I excused myself and went to the bathroom.

Lo and behold, I almost did a double take as I saw my reflection in the mirror. In my attempt to relief myself of my chapped, dry lips, I had applied way too much lip balm. And I mean, way too much. I had applied not only on my lips, but the area around my entire mouth. I looked like I had eaten a whole greasy fat pork belly with my hands tied behind my back. 

Feeling slightly embarrassed because I had been chatting away with Mr. Chatty for a good hour whilst looking like that. Sigh. Why do I always do embarrassing stuff?

And the funny thing was, we caught the same flight back as well. He recognized me and came up to say hi. Maybe he’s writing in his own blog about a Miss Greasy Lips. Haha!

A rather serious post

I recently went back to Adelaide to visit family and friends. It was relaxing, lovely, and familiar. Familiarity can be comforting, but it can also be scary. The constancy, almost as if no time had passed, was also, at the same time, scary.

Maybe it’s just me and my unwillingness to commit, but I find stability and constancy to be terrifying. Have I fallen off the bandwagon? Do I even want to be on one? I think each time I go back home, I am reminded of why I had wanted to leave in the first place.

It’s not that I don’t love the place. I do. It’s a beautiful and peaceful place. And it’s not the people either. I do love my friends back home. And it’s not the family either. I miss my family and do wish I could see them more often. But there’s just something that I cannot exactly put my finger on. Maybe it brings me back to when I was an adolescent and reminds me of my struggle to go against convention. I’m not entirely sure. Maybe it’s my fear of living a stable, conventional life - get a tertiary education, get a job (preferably government), get a house, get married, have kids and have the occasional weekend barbecue.

Or maybe it’s a deep envy of those who are living that life? Or maybe it’s a reminder of all the things I don’t have? Or things I don’t want? What is it with me and convention? It’s getting late, and I’m rambling on again.

Waiting for life to begin

Someone once told me that he’s constantly waiting for life to begin. And that he’s afraid his life will be over before it really began. What exactly was the ‘life’ he was waiting for? I’m not sure. I don’t think he knew either. And that’s something we can all probably relate to. 

We’ve all thought, maybe when I graduate and get a real job, then I’ll be able to reach my life goals. Maybe when I’m fit and strong, then I’ll be happy. Maybe when I’ve moved out, then I can really enjoy my life. Maybe when I meet someone, then I’ll be complete. Maybe when I earn enough, I can go live my dream. Maybe when my children/grandchildren are happy, then I can die peacefully. 

But what is happening whilst you’re waiting for your life to begin? Is that not life either? Is life just a relentless chase with all too many checkpoints and never a finish line? Sometimes I feel like I’m constantly running towards some sort of goal and after sweating and slaving away, I finally reach it only to feel empty and needing to fill that void once again. By chasing after the next big thing. By starting my next project. Is that the only way to avoid such existential crisis? Because really, the question we all want to ask is, what the hell are we all doing here? 

Is the point of life to be born, go through school, reach puberty, go through more school, go through a string of jobs, hopefully have some sort of career, and even more hopefully have some sort of family, age gracefully and then die? Surely that cannot be why the seven billion of us are here right now? 

So, life is now. Even though I’m not exactly sure what that even means, it’s still better than waiting for some other life to begin. Maybe life is exactly what it is. Maybe there’s nothing else. And maybe the beauty of life is that we all are given a lifetime to find out exactly what life is about.

Good luck

xx jimmy

flying dilemmas part one

I’m about to catch a plane soon and I suddenly thought, “I wonder if a cute guy is going to sit next to me.” 

But honestly, who wants to meet a romantic potential on a plane? I don’t know about you, but I’m usually bare-faced, wearing worn out leggings, my hair is all static and matted to my forehead and I’m cranky as hell because I’m cooped up in some shitty economy seat. All I want to do is pop a pill and get some shut eye and get to my destination already!! Sort of like this cranky old lady…

So, do I want to good-looking guy sit next to me or not? Well, I think I’d much rather no one sat next to me and I could score an empty chair to stretch my legs out! 

Fingers crossed! xx