In Wander and in Lust

a.k.a Philosophical word vomit, brought to you via me almost getting a tattoo about this boy I loved..

“Isn’t that the one thing your never supposed to do.. like is it about him or is about the experience you had?”. - @josephinemily (on instagram for more wisdom)

Thank goodness my roommate just set me straight on that decision. I’d just woken up from a nap, ate a chocolate bar and suddenly wisdom and guidance filled my soul. Well more or less that’s what it felt like. It could also have been sugar and anxiety.

I’m working on juicing my brain for something smooth and tasty for Global Hobo. In-between looking at my bank account and places to stay in Tasmania.

Then my Dad asked me if I can be home for July 1^st to go on a little fundraiser boat cruise for this organization he’s a part of.

His birthday is July 14^th which is when I plan on going home. I wanted it to be a bit of a surprise but I had to tell him as my reasoning for not coming on the boat cruise. Honestly though it’s more about the fact I don’t want to lose any time in my travels. Going home for July 1^st means I’d really have to go around the 28^th because of the time difference and the jet leg.  Am I wrong?? I feel a bit guilty but without doubt I will be home for this birthday!

My Dad has supported me through my travels with the upmost strength and reassurance. With Global Hobo I was feeling under qualified in my writing abilities and of course that lead to an almighty thoughtical demise of my capabilities for any future pursuits. (Like if I’m a published writer can I still make up my own words??)

I’m in this mixed state of being.  The future of my travels is but a few months away from home. This month has been a hazy prospect of it all. I LOVE THE EXPERIENCES I’VE HAD AND I LOVE PERSONS. The past 8 have opened my eyes and my heart so so so much. I think my circadian rhythm is not even able to readjust to home. “Home” in itself will feel like a culture shock.  

I’m literally going back with long hair and the confession to my mom I had tattoo’s before I left, the new ones just aren’t hide-able. Unlike the changes that have occurred on my surface. (ps. I gained about 30 lbs. eating sticky rice, kebabs and all things oh so cultured) I think the real change is very internal.

I thought I was traveling to run from home and the orthodox order of societal expectations. Now I feel like I’m living and learning and loving and it doesn’t have to be this escape from the real world. It literally is the real world. “ Love, stability, home” I understand them now to be very much based in oneself. I left home with this idea I was heading down the yellow brick road, on my way to Oz to find wisdom and freedom.

Inevitably I found both in wander and in lust. In the comfort and confusion of not making decisions for my future. Just sort of hanging loose, contrary to my pants.  Accepting the fact I figuratively and literally have more of myself to love. Giving some of that love away. Looking at the marks left from my stretched skin. Thinking about the people and the places now etched in with this new me.

Traveling can be a physical and emotional rollercoaster. Falling in love with people. Falling out of taxis. Intoxicated by the adventure than left isolated between airports.

I won’t have a wave on my wrist to remind me of a previous affair... I won’t accept my Dad’s friend request because of what I’ve been tagged in at 3am. I’ll send him emails /updates of how much fun I’m having or if I need some fatherly advice. It’s all about balance. I’m still working it out. How much boys I can kiss and still love myself. Number’s in my bank account and numbers on the scale. Dates and flights and concerts. Boat cruises and birthdays....

*Clicks heels together*

 “There’s no place like home, there’s no place like home.. there’s no place like...Japan?”