Skip to main content
Escape Artist

I had a weird feeling this afternoon. I was tying up my shoes to take my friend’s dog for a walk when an eerie question popped into my head.

Am I escaping?

Just like that. It was a question as clear as day. And I had no idea where it came from.

What if, the voice continued, I was even a full time, professional escapist?

I stopped and thought about my actions. I came to some conclusions:

I have moved every year since second year university. I have not had a home longer than 12 months since 1997. I used to think I didn’t like that. But maybe, subconsciously, I did.

I have procrastinated every since grade 7. Procrastination is a form of trying to get away with something - or away from something.

Every day, I come up with a new idea of what I want to be when I grow up. It's like I find ways to start from scratch all over again just so I don't have to justify why I haven't finished what I started.

I have come back to my small hometown to stay for a week. I would stay for two or three if I didn't need money. And yet I know, there's not really anyway I can do the job I want to do from here.

They always say admitting you have a problem is the first step. Except, I don't know that it's a problem. It's just one more characteristic I've realized about myself. Once you realize things about yourself, you either deal with them or you try to change them.

I'm not really afraid to be escaping anymore only because now that I have said it out loud, it's almost like I can move on and stop "running".

I have an exciting project on the go that I’m not quite ready to talk about just yet. It really is exactly what I was looking for all this time. A chance. Just to get my mind back into the game I think I want to be playing.

Maybe that’s why the voice decided it could question me about my escaping habits. Because it knew I now have something that I don’t really want to escape from.

I do hope it’s right. I can feel this is going to take me exactly where I want to go. And it’s like leaving my life last year is becoming worthwhile.

You can travel the world and at the end of the day, get what you want. Of course for me, this is only the beginning. I will have to remember to refer back to this day, this feeling when I’m ready to run again.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

I'm baaaack!

Hard to believe that last entry was almost three years ago! Many moons ago, I set this blog up to chronicle our journeys. Once we were grounded a bit more, it kind of lost its way. I spent some time working on my writing offline, taking on different projects and working full time as a technical writer. It was difficult to keep this blog up. Not for any real reason I can articulate. Just had my words redirected to other avenues for awhile. But, I'm pleased to say, after over a decade away, we are back in the UK, living and re-experiencing a place we enjoyed in the mid-2000s. Social media has certainly changed the way we look at blogs. I'm excited to navigate this new world, explore just what people post, what people read. What's better on one of the many new platforms and what's still appropriate for good old fashioned blogosphere. For now, here's a peek at where we're staying -- in a pretty little village just outside of Oxford. A temporary home ...

Room with a view

We've been in our new home for 10 weeks nos and it's feeling more like home than ever. Every day, I sit down at my desk to the most inspiring view. A collection of stories is building. This space makes it easy to gather my thoughts. I've been consumed with a few work projects and am looking forward to collecting my thoughts soon. Writers club is still going ... I was on a bit of a hiatus but hope to get into my routine for fall. For now, boat gazing is helping.

In Remembrance

" In Flanders fields the poppies blow       Between the crosses, row on row, ." When I was eight years old, I carried the Canadian flag in the Remembrance Day parade for our Brownie unit. I can't really remember when I realized the importance of November 11 but I can only imagine that somewhere between learning about that day at school and taking part in a very solemn ceremony that it must have been ingrained in my head to always mark this day.    "That mark our place; and in the sky    The larks, still bravely singing, fly" I remember growing up, the assemblies at school, always with a older veterans, in those days many from both World Wars, would attend. When I got to high school, I remember not being able to fathom how these decorated men and women, had once been my age, had once stood up and fought, and had made these decisions during the same years I would try to decide which route to take from En...