Future tripping is... all sorts of contradictory things. It can be useful yet so debilitating.
Even though the future is never what we imagine it to be, we still need to plan ahead in order to cut some sort of reality out of fantasy. This means having several paths to consider (Two roads diverged in a yellow woo—Okay, we get it already) yet ultimately we choose a path that begets an unimaginable reality.
But at what point do all those possibilities amount to a logical decision? I've said before I can't go wrong, but even feeling like an utter failure is a possibility. Something is always sacrificed. (You're tearing me apart, Lisa!)
Some possibilities and pipe dreams are easily discarded, but sometimes you'll arrive at a few that are equally appealing. The sorts that make you want to split into halves or thirds. And I am yet again at one of these divergences.
So here's my status update. I can choose between the following:
1. Go home in early September.
2. Find a job in New Zealand for up to a year (or anywhere, really).
3. ???
4. Profit.
So while I have the comfort of home potentially right around the corner, I have to consider if that's really a good life decision. The notion is tempting. Friends, good beer, rock climbing, bumming off my parents. What's more, in September my parents are moving to a new house in Hollister and my sister wants me to come back and be roommates once again—something we've also pipe-dreamed about tirelessly.
But if I come home and Peace Corps falls through, I believe I would be remiss for not taking full advantage of my current geographic position. What better way to extend my travels than to work abroad (short of robbing a bank and spending the rest of my life on the run).
So I've submitted my work visa application to the New Zealand Immigration Office. And after shelling out $100 dollars to prove to them I won't be sneaking tuberculosis into their country (no pulmonary intrusion detected), I'm already feeling somewhat committed to seeing it through (and earning back those precious 'Murican dollars).
I keep imagining what either possibility might look like. Part of me is so ready to come home, hug my friends and family, make the usual rounds to my favorite places, and so on. But I wonder how long that pleasure might last. It would certainly meet my short term desires, but I also worry I'll slip into a state of indifference. As alluring as those comforts are, the other part of me is curious about carving out a niche in an entirely new place, throwing myself into a new line of work, and just seeing what might happen.
In either case I can't really know, but that doesn't keep my brain from constantly pondering it. What's going to happen?! Well, it can't hurt to give it a try.
Let me in, New Zealand! Pretty please with a cherry on top.
Even though the future is never what we imagine it to be, we still need to plan ahead in order to cut some sort of reality out of fantasy. This means having several paths to consider (Two roads diverged in a yellow woo—Okay, we get it already) yet ultimately we choose a path that begets an unimaginable reality.
But at what point do all those possibilities amount to a logical decision? I've said before I can't go wrong, but even feeling like an utter failure is a possibility. Something is always sacrificed. (You're tearing me apart, Lisa!)
Some possibilities and pipe dreams are easily discarded, but sometimes you'll arrive at a few that are equally appealing. The sorts that make you want to split into halves or thirds. And I am yet again at one of these divergences.
So here's my status update. I can choose between the following:
1. Go home in early September.
2. Find a job in New Zealand for up to a year (or anywhere, really).
3. ???
4. Profit.
So while I have the comfort of home potentially right around the corner, I have to consider if that's really a good life decision. The notion is tempting. Friends, good beer, rock climbing, bumming off my parents. What's more, in September my parents are moving to a new house in Hollister and my sister wants me to come back and be roommates once again—something we've also pipe-dreamed about tirelessly.
But if I come home and Peace Corps falls through, I believe I would be remiss for not taking full advantage of my current geographic position. What better way to extend my travels than to work abroad (short of robbing a bank and spending the rest of my life on the run).
So I've submitted my work visa application to the New Zealand Immigration Office. And after shelling out $100 dollars to prove to them I won't be sneaking tuberculosis into their country (no pulmonary intrusion detected), I'm already feeling somewhat committed to seeing it through (and earning back those precious 'Murican dollars).
I keep imagining what either possibility might look like. Part of me is so ready to come home, hug my friends and family, make the usual rounds to my favorite places, and so on. But I wonder how long that pleasure might last. It would certainly meet my short term desires, but I also worry I'll slip into a state of indifference. As alluring as those comforts are, the other part of me is curious about carving out a niche in an entirely new place, throwing myself into a new line of work, and just seeing what might happen.
In either case I can't really know, but that doesn't keep my brain from constantly pondering it. What's going to happen?! Well, it can't hurt to give it a try.
Let me in, New Zealand! Pretty please with a cherry on top.
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