Thoughts at 35 thousand feet.

"It’s a little early for that, isn’t it?" 

Thats the fat Irish businessman seated beside me. He is watching me pour myself a glass of wine. I don't even look at him and continue pouring. 

"Not on my side of the world."

On my side of the world its 9.10pm and it’s 23 degrees. It’s perfectly ok to have a glass of wine.

And besides, I’m on an aeroplane. Anything goes when you’re on an aeroplane (except jokes about terrorism. They are taken very seriously I’m told). 

It’s Australia day and I am flying from London to Dublin. One place to another, I want this to be my life for now. I don’t want to be still anymore. I enjoy the idea of living in London, but I don’t so much enjoy the idea of finding a home and job and staying still. If only the money would roll in on it’s own, I think I would be content just tripping from one place to another, indefinitely, until I find something else that I want to do more.

For the first time in a long time, love doesn’t appeal to me right now. Partnership or companionship, it all seems uninteresting. Don’t get me wrong, I definitely noticed the cute guy two rows behind me, wearing green fisherman pants and sleeping like an angel, it’s just, I don’t want to marry him and have his babies.

Maybe I really could find myself this year. Or if not this year, maybe next. Maybe this trip, this journey, is a step toward figuring out what my life will be. If not Cale, if not Sydney, if not unionism, or event management… What? Maybe I will finally find a way away from depression. Away from dissatisfaction, the nagging feeling of “what’s next”, “what should I be doing now”, “isn’t there more”…

Maybe this is my time.

Maybe it is a little too early for this.