One of the sad things about going away is saying goodbye to the people that you care about.
One of the sadder things is going away because you never got to get to care about someone.
Friday 29 May 2009
Tuesday 26 May 2009
Not another false start.
Sorry, I've been gone a while.
There's a reason for that.
Mostly it's because there are enough blogs out there documenting people's self perpetuating sense of failure and feelings of isolation, and also because I have had so very little worthy of discussion.
Who cares that I have returned to my old place of work, having climbed down the career ladder, to a job that I actually rather enjoy, despite the pitying looks from old colleagues and concerned questions about how the 'job search' was going (I wasn't searching for a job)? Who cares that I was involved in a couple of creative projects that were lots of fun but could hardly be considered a concerted effort at a career change? And who really gives a fig that I still haven't written that book?
Except for me, of course. Hence the self perpetuating sense of failure and feeling of isolation. *Cue violins*
But all that is about to change, because I am going exploring (read "running away") again. This time I am going to Buenos Aires, and I have bought a one-way ticket. This doesn't mean that I will be gone forever, though in theory it might. I have a very loose plan, which involves training to teach English and then looking for work, and travelling when I have no work, until my savings dry up. This may not take very long, or (if I find a job, or any sort of genuine direction, really) it could be a journey that doesn't stop.
Teaching is, I have always said, the last job I would ever want to do. In the sense that my parents were both teachers (and my sister, for a while), and I witnessed through my childhood a great deal of stress and a very small amount of free time. Now I realise this is involved in most jobs, and I know that in theory teaching can be very rewarding. It is an honorable profession. Even so, I do have a deep set aversion to the idea. But I imagine teaching adults who actually want to learn is less stressful than a class of thirty-one teenagers that would rather be out shagging than learning a foreign language. It has to be worth a shot, and it's better than treading water back in Manchester, I suppose.
It will be amazing, I am sure. Whatever happens, it will inform my future and I will have seen something new of the world. And I miss the rainforest with a longing that can't be written, and this may bring me closer to it again.
There's a reason for that.
Mostly it's because there are enough blogs out there documenting people's self perpetuating sense of failure and feelings of isolation, and also because I have had so very little worthy of discussion.
Who cares that I have returned to my old place of work, having climbed down the career ladder, to a job that I actually rather enjoy, despite the pitying looks from old colleagues and concerned questions about how the 'job search' was going (I wasn't searching for a job)? Who cares that I was involved in a couple of creative projects that were lots of fun but could hardly be considered a concerted effort at a career change? And who really gives a fig that I still haven't written that book?
Except for me, of course. Hence the self perpetuating sense of failure and feeling of isolation. *Cue violins*
But all that is about to change, because I am going exploring (read "running away") again. This time I am going to Buenos Aires, and I have bought a one-way ticket. This doesn't mean that I will be gone forever, though in theory it might. I have a very loose plan, which involves training to teach English and then looking for work, and travelling when I have no work, until my savings dry up. This may not take very long, or (if I find a job, or any sort of genuine direction, really) it could be a journey that doesn't stop.
Teaching is, I have always said, the last job I would ever want to do. In the sense that my parents were both teachers (and my sister, for a while), and I witnessed through my childhood a great deal of stress and a very small amount of free time. Now I realise this is involved in most jobs, and I know that in theory teaching can be very rewarding. It is an honorable profession. Even so, I do have a deep set aversion to the idea. But I imagine teaching adults who actually want to learn is less stressful than a class of thirty-one teenagers that would rather be out shagging than learning a foreign language. It has to be worth a shot, and it's better than treading water back in Manchester, I suppose.
It will be amazing, I am sure. Whatever happens, it will inform my future and I will have seen something new of the world. And I miss the rainforest with a longing that can't be written, and this may bring me closer to it again.
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