I think I became skeptical too young. Looking around at others my age, they just seem happier than I do – I’m jealous of that. They are comfortable and willing to do things out of honest enjoyment, just because something seems fun. From my eyes, they are infinitely less concerned whether something is meaningful or interesting, and able to enjoy their time more liberally.
I wrote in my journal a while back, “often the most adventurous people simply don’t know how to enjoy the simplest pleasures.” And god damn do those words resonate with me. I often fool myself that I appreciate simplicity. For instance, my love for a nice glass of wine and slice of cheese. In the end though, I cannot enjoy that simplicity. Because in that moment I begin to question and worry. What year was the wine? What grape? Who produced it? Where is the cheese from? Pasteurized or un-pasturized? Does it pair well with the wine? Should I have gotten more? Less? Where am I consuming this? Was it served properly? And down the rabbit hole I go.
This characteristic makes me awful at relaxing. Honestly, I cannot do it. My only times of enjoyment come from doing, creating, and finding things new. I rather be callousing my hands stacking bricks than found lounging at a luxury beach resort any day. Because, somehow I’ve developed a fear of contentment. And as a result I try to avoid every opportunity where someone would be in the position to think for me.
By no means do I imagine that this post is enjoyable to read. I’d actually be surprised if readers…besides family…continued past the first paragraph. Even since arriving in London my head has been in a bad spot. Maybe it’s the weather – because no one is joking when they describe it as bloody miserable – but that is both a terrible conversation starter, as well as an excuse. After almost six weeks of traveling this summer through eleven different countries, one would think that I had found time to “clear my mind”, or some other cliche travel goal. My mind never clears; however, that doesn’t mean I don’t use it as an excuse to justify traveling.
In light of my current state of mind I did what any reasonable college student living on a budget would do. I purchased an inexpensive guitar, rented a car, and am diving to Scotland. A dear friend of my family had mentioned that visiting the Isle of Skye is like jumping back in time 60 years. And for someone like me who feels such a strong connection to roots he does not have, such a place sounds like home. I should be in Glasgow by this evening, and then out on the Isle by midday tomorrow – but when looking back on my track record, I’m never too confident saying where I’ll end up.