It's one of those nights again, where I sit at the dining table scrolling through Facebook and Instagram in my feeble attempt to feel young, hip and in touch with the world again. I go to my favourite blogs, stalk some of my favourite Instagrammers, watch "This Now" / "Vox" or whatever new videos that are up on marble making or something. My phone's storage is filling up so I delete photos on it - but I'm still left with another 12k in it, so its pretty much hopeless. I look up ASOS for that Rita Ora bag that I finally feel ready to buy, but they're out of stock now.
This isn't mundane. I like it - it's my alone time after 5 hectic days of painfully waking up for work and rushing through the day with 2h lunch breaks, meet ups with some of the loveliest people and non-stop shovelling of coffee and tea down my throat to look alive.
But I can't help wondering if there's more to this.
Do the dreams of living in a shoebox apartment in NY with those classic fire escape stairs eventually come true? Will I someday be able to sit by my window with cashmere PJ bottoms, a comfy white t-shirt and a peach throw over, perhaps with a cup of tea in hand, watching the traffic that flows below in the city that never sleeps?
Or okay, do I get to ever live in a foreign city, waking up to strange adventures every day as I gradually learn about my new neighbourhood, the culture and life that everyone else lives and breathes, slowly exploring the rest of the city, then the country.
Will I someday do something I'm passionate about for a living? Will I ever find something I'm passionate about?
I'm reminded of the song "Que Sera Sera" which goes on about how what will be, will be. But there has to be a way around it no? Or do I just sit here in my chair at my dining table waiting for it to happen.
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