When it comes to doing the things you want in life, your brain is often paid a visit by this dreadful bailiff who goes by the name of Realism; violently removing the ambitions that you can’t afford. However, it is important to note that this fella can also drastically mislead you into thinking that none of these things can be done. But he’s a lying bastard. Why? Because we’re putting on a show at the Edinburgh Festival for almost four weeks, and it has cost us less than most two-week holidays.
But it is a get-away. A month to separate from the real world. I’ve had disappointments in that world this year. For one, I overworked myself more manically than most, only to be at-times met with mild mediocrity in return. I dipped. To say the least, I wasn’t doing very well at others’ expense.
So, like a first-world Shawshank Redemption, I used my time to dig out the escape route and here I am writing this on the train to Edinburgh. Every night getting through this year in front of a computer, I would look at the same image of an open road and think ‘it’s alright, Edinburgh is coming’.
Because, whilst anything could happen up there, this is the first life-choice that I truly feel I have created for myself. Until now, it has always been the same: work or education. Well, what’s this then? Neither! If it could be work in the future, well that would be nice. But, for now, it’s a genuine adventure. And I’ve never properly done one of those before. Neither have I done something where I genuinely could not give an answer of what the outcome will be.
There always comes a time when people drop what’s in front of them and say ‘fuck-it’. When people say that, they go to America, help poorer countries for a year, run away from the equilibrium because the ordinary structure of day-to-day isn’t enough for them and they need to find an extension to it.
I just said ‘fuck-it’. And I’ll be saying it for the next twenty-eight days.