being transient has this major con.
and for me, it is this:
that hesitation to ever get one hundred percent invested.
this actually plagues me pretty good. i keep a lot at arms length.
i don’t want to get too attached.
and i think my nature is introverted enough that ten rejected invites to go out doesn’t faze me. i’m not enough of a people person to moan over “missing out”, because often times i’d rather be writing or chilling around the dinner table with mates or, let’s be honest, sleeping.
for a lot of my whistler days i’ve felt like the arty kid that sits in the back of the classroom with her face too close to her lined sheets of paper concentrating just hard enough to be oblivious.
yet sometimes i’ve looked up and wanted to be the class clown that everyone crowds around or the perfectly done-up girl who always has boy stories or even the dumb kid on the side who farts too much.
ha, ok, sometimes i’m him.
that longing draws right into one of the biggest lessons i’ll be taking from whistler.
that, at the end of the day, only you know what makes you happy. only you know what keeps you balanced, keeps you sane. and altering that for the sake of public perception or to join the majority will probably only make you less happy.
after feeling like a sort of outskirts anomaly in this party-party environment, i’ve really had to remember that so i didn’t feel like i was missing out all the time just because i was sleeping instead of injecting vodka straight into my veins.
(and really, whose to say that perfectly done-up girl and the class clown and mcfarty are happy anyways. my gauge of their happiness is simply skewed perception).
all that to say, with ten days left in this mountain town, i do want to be one hundred percent invested. to be completely here. and to take advantage of all the things that won’t be part of my daily life anymore.
the trick is to do it because i want to.
not for any other reason but to write my own story in the last chapter that this is.
if i let someone else write it, i’d surely be sleepless and drunk off my stool for the next ten days.
(not going to happen, you can breathe out mom and dad…)