It’s Time To Take A Risk, Sweetheart.

So I’m now in my second year at uni, and already my mind is wandering to the possibilities that lie after graduation. Will I get a job? Will I like my job? Will it end up being anything to do with my degree?
All of these thoughts are starting to swarm, along with an overwhelming sense of pressure to “do” things.

One of my biggest fears is to die having not done any of the things I always say I’ll “one day” do.
Get a book published, have a job I enjoy, travel, see the world, live somewhere new… just to SEE things, and DO things with my life.

I was talking with my friend over a Starbucks yesterday, and we were talking about her great grandfather who had lived till he was 113. She told me about how she’d listened in awe when she was younger to his stories and the things he’d experienced. She said that she wants one day to be the one with a century worth of viewing the world and how it changes.
I mentioned how it was a shame that our species have such short life spans. The average life expectancy in the UK (as far as I’m aware) is 80. In the grand scheme of things, that is not very long at all.
As I mentioned this, I realised something; I’m 20 already. That leaves me with maybe 60 years left on average. That kind of terrified me.
I’m 20 and I feel I’ve experienced and achieved almost nothing. I always aspire to do so much more than I end up seeing through. And I want that to change.

Dom and I are thinking of moving when we graduate. Maybe to Canada.
When he mentioned this to me I was slightly stunned, and instantly thought of all the reasons I couldn’t do that.
Now I’m only thinking “why should those stop me?”

I want to see the world right? I want to experience new places and cultures right? I don’t want to miss opportunities or chances. I want to LIVE life, rather than just imagine it.

So why the hell not? Yeah, go on then. I’ll move to a foreign country. I’ll travel on a whim. I’ll try new things.
You know why? Because maybe if I’m very lucky, one day I’ll be the one inspiring my great grandchildren to have their own century of stories to tell.

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My Life in Letters: O.

For the letter ‘O’, I thought I would talk about my hometown, and the city of my birth, Oxford, England.
I’ve always been someone who’s lived all over the place, not due to my parents moving or anything, but just because I tended to move all around the place personally. However, out of all of the places I’ve lived, Oxford has been the most consistent.
20 years ago now, on the 16th of July, I was born at the John Radcliffe Hospital in Oxford city center.
I lived in a small village outside of the boarders of the city after that, in and out of different areas of the outskirts.
I lived in the center of Oxford while working through my gap year, where I lived independently, before moving to Bolton for University.

Although I no longer live in Oxford, and I’ve spent time living elsewhere, such as Yorkshire and Manchester and Aylesbury, I will always consider it my original home. I doubt I will go back there to live permanently again after University, but it will always be another home to me.

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