Mind Vomit (Part II)

It is yet another tedious Monday and I have yet another persistent cold. My nose is dripping like a leaky faucet and my head feels like it’s stuffed with approximately seven thousand cotton balls—an undoubted side-effect of the decongestant I think I’m taking at the moment. (I use the word “think” here because I spent a number of minutes in the pharmacy today, trying to explain to the girl behind the counter that I needed some kind of drug designed to stop the insane amount of mucus oozing through my nose; she didn’t speak English, I speak very little Korean, so after a few minutes of playing a game of charades, I walked out of the pharmacy with a box of something that doesn’t seem to be working too well.)

I clicked into Blogger a few minutes ago with the intention of writing something meaningful, but, to be totally honest, the topics that are near and dear to me at the moment feel too private to broadcast on the internet for the pleasure of the blogging world (whether this “pleasure” is edifying for some or the object of ridicule for others). I do, however, feel the need to give some sort of an update; a tidbit of news that will lead you to believe my life is exceptionally adventurous and enviously interesting right now. But, as fate would have it, my life of late has been relatively uneventful. It’s amazing how taking an unconventional path (such as moving to and living in the eastern hemisphere) can become humdrum after awhile. I bore far too easily, and I fear that—consequently—my future will be spent in a permanent state of nomadic-ness. But although "settling down" seems like a nice idea in theory, every time I try it on to see if it fits me, I’m usually unable to squeeze myself into it. Most people crave some form of stability, but I seem to crave only change. My world is in a constant state of motion, but it rarely moves fast enough for my liking: If I’m in one place for one year, it usually ends up being ten and a half months too long. My bank account, however, doesn’t allow me to move on as quickly as I would like, and so I remain stagnant for as long as my attention span can possibly handle. In short: I’m a piece of work.

I suppose the point of this seemingly meaningless babble is to somehow say that I have no idea what I’m going to do with my life in the months to come (I only have three months, by the way, to make this frighteningly life-altering decision). Should I stay here in Korea, where money is never an issue and where travel is exceptionally affordable? Should I go home to the things that are most familiar to me (although the word “home” is becoming more relative as the days progress)? Should I take another stab at adventure and move somewhere entirely different? Or should I take what little money I have and spend it on traveling the world until I can no longer afford to feed myself? I thought I had made up my mind on this decision weeks ago, but, true to my typical behavior, I’ve begun to analyze my life and question every decision I’ve ever made (should I have eaten the bagel with cream cheese, or should I have gone with the strawberry jam?).

Any suggestions?