Funny this, because it's so true and so not true all at once. Life is short. Remember that time when you were six and making delicious restaurant-standard food from soil/leaves/plants and then suddenly you were sitting opposite a scary man in Santander applying for a mortgage? Yeah that went pretty quick. The brain is a funny thing where it tricks you into thinking that time has gone really quick because you're looking back and it's all squished together and you don't remember any specific days where you ate wax crayons or learned to conjugate verbs. But really it was a long an arduous time (I know this because I have looked back on journals from when I was 14 and being 14 sucked soooo much and life was soooo long and being 14 was pretty much the worst thing to happen to anyone ever in the history of the world forever as-told-by-me amen). So really, time just feels slow until it's gone. Am I getting too philosophical here? Anyway, moving on from the horrendous existence that was my 14 year old self, it's slow. Long. Ardeous (enjoyable to the ear).
The point of this whole thing really is that life is short okay. And you only actually remember the good bits (or also the boring bits if like me you are a memory-hoarder and write down every detail of your long and tough existence as a human being as I have). Which means make the most of it - plan roadtrips, see caves, theme parks, ride jet skis, quad bikes, kayak, learn to waterski, swim in the open ocean, overindulge on all that good stuff and you'll have lived the bredth of life not just the width.
2. Focus on your priorities
When I was young I sort of lived in a bubble of my little village and everyone in it. Where fifty-year-old women were living in beautiful houses playing croquet and drinking gin (okay I don't know what they were doing but one can only assume) and everyone was happy (gin) and no one wanted for anything (bar more gin). Anyway... I never really knew of the 'struggle' - you know, the big city hustle to get to the top. The stamp-over-your-best-friends-wounded-body to get to the top kind of hustle. I thought life was so simple: you got a good education and you'd be rewarded with a good job. Now, after three terrifyingly fast (see above point) paced years in London, I am ready to retire alongside those croquet ladies. Long gone are the cheap coke and night buses I demeaned myself to whilst in search of my "dream" (emphasis on the quotations) career as a journalist. I wish if have known that the best part of those years were the bike rides in Hyde Park, strolling Camden lock in the sun, the picnics by Marble Arch fountain, exploring Southbank riverside markets, wandering Covent Garden with my sister at Christmas, basically seeing every inch of the city on my own two feet. So from now on I need to keep telling myself to focus on what makes me happy, what I want instead of what people expect from me. To be an air hostess/wedding planner/jewellery designer............
3. The world keeps spinning
When I'm frustrated/deflated/want to gauge my eyes out with knitting needles about my (lack of) career, I like to remember the line from That's Life in which Sinatra says "I pick myself up and get back in the race". I think that inspires me more than all those benign collages on Pinterest about love and failure and blah blah blah. Not only because I can joyfully sing it along with him but also because I need to dust myself off, pull my socks up and carry on. I have a horrible trait of falling hard after critisism. In fact I can almost make myself cry on demand over all the horrific moments I've wanted to beat myself up for failing. So I hereby vow to try and detach my ego - to pick myself back up - to not give up easily - to let things lie. That which doesn't kill you makes you stronger, no?
