74 Weeks Later
Once or twice in your life, something, or someone, gets under your skin and stays there. Most of the time it’s because you have let them. It does not need to be tragic; it can even be, at times, up-lifting. All of the time it changes your life in some big, unalterable way. Then you learn to deal.
Seventy four weeks ago (I only know this because Instagram tells me so) I made a decision about how I wanted to live the next twenty years of my life, and I’m learning everyday that breaking up costs more, the older you get.
Because at 22, you don’t really know what kind of life you want for yourself. The best you can do is learn from what you run away from.
Running away used to be my only currency for dealing. These days I over-compensate. Twelve months ago I was in Helsinki going on San Francisco, running away from life and lost love.
I met a girl at a bar after a BDSM street party, and she robbed me.
Only in San Francisco.
I was in court today.
Say what you will about the system and its shortcomings, but nowhere else in the world do you get an efficient, fast-moving court system which settles commercial matters… after office hours. So the GDP won’t take a hit, I suppose.
74 weeks ago, in running away I also ran away from the filing of company papers.
So I now owe the Singapore government $$$.
Some older, wiser people have this to say:
- fuck it
- date widely
- have as much fun as you can
- avoid dating vegans
- fuck everything, really.
I’m coming around to the point of view that they are right.
Life is funny and always, always takes me on these amazing, unexpected journeys.