Friday, 3 February 2017

I've quit my job, got rid of all my things and moved to Australia

​I arrived at the airport on Wednesday morning and my first of four flights was massively delayed meaning I'd miss all my connections and my 40 hour journey had gone to fuck before I'd even left London.

An act of God with a sprinkle of human error had us halted, the speedy boarders were spewing venom at the staff and the rich were raging they'd have to wait a while longer to recline in their ridiculously overpriced pod things up in business class. Chill out Margaret, ya posh bitch. Demands of compensation echoed amongst the chaos and I stood to the side with a slight smile while witnessing all the egos. Everyone had so much to say yet every word was utterly worthless? The misery lacked any actual meaning.

Which is kinda what brought me to the airport in the first place.

After not much consideration at all, I've decided to Jexit myself out of Britain with immediate effect... so welcome to my 'farewell, I'm fucking off' blog. A spur of the moment decision made on a whim and executed in hope.



Side note: don't worry, everyone else thinks I'm making a massive mistake too. Especially as I quit the career I'd worked for as a kid, walked away from the house I'd made a home and chucked almost everything I owned to the local charity shop. But before you judge, please abandon all logic for a brief moment and read the below with an open mind yeah?

Be honest with yourself: Are you happy? Is anyone? Do you wake up each morning content with the life you lead? Or is there something you'd like to change? Well why haven't you changed it? What's holding you back? A fear or trying? A fear of the unknown? A fear of breaking out the misery of the mundane? Nah. The only thing holding you back is yourself.

Throughout this past year I've lived in a city that I've sat back and watched with much curiosity. A place where the people profit from pity and you can not afford to feel. A well-oiled machine that operates on fear while expecting failure. And as I observed, I started to feel like life was something to be endured - rather than enjoyed? A dodgy thought to dare that init.




Each day as I followed the frowns I'd feel more and more detached from the predominantly selfish, self-entitled, selfie generation I apparently belong too? The people facing every step and struggle with a Snapchat filter and Facebook status. And then there's the politically correct brigade branding every breathe you take offensive, the pretend politicians patrolling social media, the ill-informed idiots pushing their prejudice, the incessant moaning and outrage at absolutely everything. Lets not also forget the binge drinking, Tinder swiping, bed hopping, drug taking teens with the world at their feet that fail to see past what their parents have handed them on a plate. The most privileged of people that still manage to find fault with every singe fucking thing.

Excluding the odd few bright lights amongst the black skies, everyone seems to be going through the motions just for the simple sake of it? And I suppose I was too.

Then I realised things don't always get better and not everybody is going to experience a happy ending. Life is short, shit and there aren't any guarantees. If you want a fairytale, you have to actively go find some toads to kiss. Or frogs. Whatever the fuck they were in that film. Sometimes we must sacrifice and open ourselves up to struggle in order to see the light and progress as a person. Which is exactly the place I'm at right now after spending the last week or so saying see ya later to all my old haunts before moving to Australia.



Essentially what I'm trying to say is: don't settle, drift or simply accept. Running in a race you have no desire to win isn't worth competing at all. Stand up, make shit happen and make that smile on your face a permanent one. Because one day the occasional glimpses of heaven will no longer be enough. It's time to stop doing what you think you should be doing and do what you really want to. I ain't saying it'll be easy, but nothing worthwhile ever fucking is like.

PS: After a little patience my flights were rearranged, I was put on a better airline, lived the life of luxury in the first class lounge, stumbled upon some new mates on a similar path that made the massive journey far less lonely and had my travel time slashed by 10 hours at no extra cost. The lady that led the outrage at the check-in staff was handed a meal voucher for £4.50 and politely told to get to fuck.