Crazy Plans

I’m in the midst of another existential crisis. I think its because I’m tired. And because I’ve just started a new job, and whilst its fine, it isn’t exactly my life’s dream. So, here is a list, in no particular order, of a variety of crazy plans that I have made whilst walking this evening, in an attempt to find some greater meaning/purpose, some sort of direction for my life.

1. Buy a caravan and drive around Ireland for 3 months, playing music and singing in pubs.
2. Hike the Appalachian Trail.
3. Travel to Croatia and hang out with Vedrana. Travel to Ankara and hang out with Didem (thanks for the suggestion, Finnigan).
4. Go to Africa and do ‘useful’ things (yes, I realise how bad that sounds, but you have to realise how tired I am, and the fact that I actually know very little about what ‘useful’ things I could actually do/how useful I could actually be to the continent).
5. Do the Trans-Siberian Railway.
6. Buy an old church hall and convert it into some sort of crazy theatre/artistic space.
7. Move to London
8. Move to Edinburgh
9. Move to New York
10. Move to Alaska
11. Become an author
12. Become an organic farmer
13. Become a gym instructor
14. Become a tarot card reader
15. Become a buddhist nun
16. Do Route 66
17. Learn German and move to Berlin (oh, I think I already told you guys that one)
18. Learn French and move to France
19. Learn Italian and move to Italy
20. Trace Che Guevara’s motorcycle trip around South America
21. Go to Oregon and see the redwoods
22. Cut all my hair off, dye it red, and get a tattoo

*Sigh* Aside from the fact that I’m probably not going to do any of these, most of those activities are not mutually compatible, meaning I would have to make some decisions between the crazy schemes anyway. Of course, I could do some of them. Like, I could become an author, an organic farmer, cut off my hair all in Berlin. Or, I could become am Italian-speaking tarot card reader on Route 66. Does anyone have any votes for what I should/should not do (Dad, I assume you vote against the last one and number 14). 
Is anyone else disturbed by the fact that I’m 27 years old and I’m still playing the, ‘When I grow up, I want to be a…’ game? Is anyone else still playing that game?
Notice, also, most of them don’t actually involve staying as an au pair in Ireland. I’m hoping this feeling will go away in the next week or two, but at the moment, I’m wrecked, I’m stressed, I’m emotional, I’m uncertain of the new kids (and they’re uncertain of me): its just like starting again. Which it is, of course. But, I forgot/didn’t realise how hard it would be.

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