Fuzzy-headed, layered in as much clothing as I can without losing credibility and smelling faintly of cigar smoke, I'm parked on a hall chair in the backpackers whiling away a couple hours before I catch my bus up to the Bay of Islands.
I'd like to say I woke up this morning with all the answers swirling around in my head. But instead, I woke up and wondered, "Where am I?" and "What am I doing?" Perhaps the after effects of alcohol and two hours of sleep.
I've scheduled a few weeks of rest and regeneration in the north part of New Zealand before I set off on the next stage, which continues to remain elusive. I wallow back and forth between returning home and continuing on.
The idea of a full time job scares me, if I am to be perfectly honest. I've spent six months doing whatever I want for 24 hours a day. It's not surprising that I'm reluctant about rejoining the leagues of the working man.
But precisely that freedom is what will make me go back. The reasons I slept two hours are two. One is my own fault- I stayed out ridiculously too late (McDonalds changed their signs to the breakfast menu right when we arrived). The other is I have to be out of my backpackers 10:00AM. This is standard. So if one went to bed when the sun was coming up, that one idiot is not getting much shuteye.
Circular thinking is getting me nowhere. But it's about time to catch the bus now. So I've accomplished my feat of killing time and figuring out the answers in the game of life. There are none. And I will enjoy each day as it comes. How often do I get to feel like this?