Two Years in the Making

shark hi-five

I found this old post in a blog I forgot I was apart of from two years ago. It reminded me of what I forgot most about living: to get your life!

I went to the movies this afternoon after my friend told me to watch Lucy. She told me it was everything we discussed in Brazil encapsulated in a film. She spoke with immediacy about how she wanted me to see it so we could talk about it as soon as possible. So, given the urgency, I went to the theater today after hearing about it yesterday -and boy, did it ever inspire me.

It solidified everything I’ve thought about in the last year in a half: we have the ability to become whatever and whoever we want, the only obstacles in our way are the ones we create. We alone create obstructions, we alone can clear our minds and access clarity.

I realized I’m tired of hearing excuses from my friends about them not living their lives. They wish they could do what I do, quit their jobs, move across country, travel the world. I tell them do it, the only times I find regret in my life are when I didn’t follow my heart and intuition in the first place.

Go out! Explore! JUST DO IT. Get drunk, buy a plane ticket to Europe, spend the next three months falling in and out of love with a train driver from Mexico City, have your coat stolen at a bar in London (which happens to have your debit card, passport, drivers license, student id card, cell phone and ipod in it), spend the rest of the week at the US Embassy trying to prove that you are who you say you are (as if the cute Wisconsin accent everyone else fucking adores isn’t a dead giveaway), dip your toes in the sand of Valencia, party and make-out with British boys, get in fights with your hostel security guards, be homeless, party with strangers from Chile that invite you on their bus, have sex with a man from Portugal, buy a $3 bottle of wine for the pure fact that the bottle is in the shape of a horse, go on dates with men from okcupid to dodgy hookah bars, take selfies with the Trevi fountain, miss people from back home, miss your old life, skype with your new brother about the roadtrip you’re going to embark on when you get home, get home, meet your new brother, party with his friends, have a show in his house lit by candles, smoke weed on the balcony upstairs with complete strangers, discuss life, hang out in a park all day and tour a rich home, pass a hammock in the park and think of your old life, get in the car, drive across a few states, climb a mountain to a creek, worry about dying, have a picnic, visit your brother’s old friend, stay on a farm for a week and smoke weed with the film girl from the upper east side of New York City, have your life crash down around you, have a tarot card reading that depicts and unfolds the next year and a half of your life, become friends with the dog that hates everyone, die climbing another mountain, howl at the moon, graze the countryside with the cows, watch everyone else live and observe instead of participate, get back in your car, drive across another state, meet Charleston, South Carolina’s finest, fly home, be excited to hug your mama and kiss your dog, do it all again on the other side of the country after a 3 day bus ride to Oregon with your best friend, do it all again in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, decide to go against your initial thought process of not traveling abroad for awhile and fucking get a visa for Brazil a week before your trip, GO, don’t just go, go for 4 months, go with a purpose and leave for the same purpose, live in Rio for 2 months with complete strangers, swim in the ocean topless, learn how to drive stick shift where the road ends and the ocean begins, see the way the night sky lights up from the oil rigs offshore, stick your body out of the window of a moving car and feel complete and utter infinite freedom, see the best sunset of your entire being, smoke weed with Rasta guys from Africa, buy anklets with dream catchers on them, make out with everyone, have sex with your friends in the street, spend a day in Iguazu Falls with a Parisian guy who keeps hitting on you, allow him to pay for everything when your debit card doesn’t work, pay him back, buy Pizza Hut for the sole factor that it is the small piece of home that you’ve been missing, lose 25 lbs., go clubbing in Argentina for your birthday, celebrate your birthday with one of your new soulmates and his family, drink a cup of cappucino so a man from the Middle East can read the next two months of your life off the grinds left on the side of the cup, spend 3 days on a bus, embark on a crazy adventure with 4 other exchange participants for Carnival, party your ass off with your new group of friends for a week straight, discuss life and the universe and psychology and philosophy and books and movies and music and experiences with people from all over the world, buy presents for your new sister in Buenos Aires and keep them for yourself (you’ll send her presents from America when you’re back home anyways), have your debit card copied and bank account drained (you’ll never get the money back or an explanation why from the bank either), deal with the fact that you have to have money Western Union’ed to you for the next month, have a British boy hate you because you won’t sleep with him, eat food that strangers cooked you, sing at the top of your lungs, celebrate your Irish heritage at 11:00AM on St. Patrick’s Day because there’s nothing else to do and you want to, buy that damn 6 pack of Heineken with the outrageously high import taxes on it because you’re craving anything that’s not water beer and you love the green bottles, go to Parque Lage every day to meditate because it’s exactly how you imagine your soul looks like, climb the side of a cliff with a stranger that tells you to, fear your own death again, embrace that fear and climb anyways besides you’re with a stranger, feel completely satisfied with your time in South America, explore California by train, and go home, feel the serene peaceful state of mind you now possess after a year and a half of chaotic travel, fuck peace, go against your intuition, move across country for a job, be miserable for a week, quit job, live on your best friends couch for a month, eat pie with her every night of the week, paint her bathroom in your underwear, move home and wonder what it was all for.

Results may vary; so go out and live your life!


7 thoughts on “Two Years in the Making

  1. sunnymirrors says:

    Don’t you just love those moments when you find sth you wrote a while ago…And you are like “wow, I wrote that”.
    The best thing I could read right now, I could totally relate to it. Ai menina!

    Liked by 1 person

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