You know when you feel nervous or unsettled or depressed and you just don’t know the reason why?
You sort through your mind, examining possible causes one by one, trying to pinpoint the source of your stress. But not a single item makes you go, “Ah! That’s it!”
It’s like a mystery itch on your body. You know the general region of the itch so you set your fingers around the vicinity and start scratching.
But the itch is illusive. You can’t find it and it’s getting worse, the itch, taunting you to madness. You’ve scratched a 20-mile radius of your skin raw and you still can’t find it.
I woke up this morning feeling bad about something I can’t put my finger on. I know the things I’m generally stressed about these days but none of them is it.
It’s not a big deal, though. I’m still enjoying being in England and waking up so early in the morning (sevenish). It’s just that it’s annoying to have this mysterious grinding ache in a lost recess of my heart and a nervous flutter in a forgotten pit of my stomach.
Nevertheless, I’m going shopping today. Yay. I hope I don’t end up spending all my money because I still have 10 more days to go after today.
And going to London tomorrow. Will take a coach up (2.5 hours ride) by myself and then meet a couple of friends there.
That’s quite exciting.
I deliberated for a week wondering if I should just go on my own or wait till Piers gets back from his holiday to take me there. I’m afraid of getting on the wrong coach or, in fact, not being able to find the coach station.
There’s also the fact that I’m feeling so lazy and comfortable in this pleasant, beautiful town of Bournemouth and the thought of being on a coach for a total of five hours in a day isn’t very attractive.
So I couldn’t quite make up my mind until last night.
I didn’t, in fact, make up my mind, although I was veering more towards not going because inaction is always easier than action.
Decisions often get made by themselves through inaction because you’ve passed the window of opportunity.
So then, what happened was, I was looking through coach fares again online, mulling, deliberating, hmming and arghing.
And, suddenly, a switch just went flip in my mind, accompanied by a voice inside saying, “OH WHAT THE HECK,” at the same time propelling my mouse cursor towards the BUY NOW button.
And so I just bought the ticket without having quite decided whether I wanted it or not.
Exactly the same thing happened when I was deliberating whether to come to England.
I mulled over it for a week, weighing pros and cons, repeatedly checking my bank balance to see if it might mysteriously grow two extra zeros so as to tip the scales into the pros.
And then one day, seemingly like any other day, I was checking airfare prices yet again when the flip and “WHAT THE HECK” happened and I bought the damned ticket.
A reader, Mosoky, commented in my previous post saying she hopes she can muster the courage like me to someday just zip off to a foreign land alone.
I told her to not do that because the courage will never come. It has never been courage on my part. It’s always just been impulse.
I said not think about it and just buy the tickets and be forced to go. :D
Maybe that’s what made me buy the London coach ticket. I have to practise what I preach, after all.