In Which Alex Waxes Dangerously Philosophical

Caution: The following is a joke-free post. Feel free to insert banana peels, buckets of whitewash and other slapstick as you see fit. If swallowed, consult doctor immediately. It's only by returning to my roots in Shropshire that I've realised how abnormal I've become. Not abnormal in a bad way, but just "not normal." I suppose I could use the word "extraordinary," but it seems a bit arrogant, doesn't it? Of course, "normal" means different things to different people, but since I've been back I've found myself on a different wavelength to most people I know. Other people try to get a steady job, make some money and eventually start a family. People like me, on the other hand, gallivant from country to country, never knowing where home is, where we'll end up next and or what tomorrow may bring. It all sounds terribly exciting and romantic, but it's not the easiest existence: Language barriers, cultural barriers, losing touch with old friends and sometimes a feeling of not belonging are just some of the problems. Wherever I go, I never feel quite at home. Home is more than just a place. It's the people you know, your shared experiences and memories. That's why coming home has been tough in a few ways. With some of my friends it's like I left only yesterday. With others, it's like I've been gone for a hundred years. A lot of them have married and/or have kids already, while some have only just graduated. It's all been a bit of a shock sometimes, and it feels terrible not being to relate to some of them like I used to. I've realised how everything's changed, or hasn't changed. Most people I've seen since I've been back are busy doing "normal" stuff. Apologies if the quote marks make me sound like a bit of an arrogant twat, but I can't think of any other way to describe it. I've heard a lot of them saying they wish they could do what I do. The fact is, it's not such a big deal. Admittedly, I've had some advantages, like having experienced emigration at a young age and a background in language study, but so what? I know people who've done more on less. It's not that I can do these things, it's that I do do these things. It's all a state of mind. Doing what I do wasn't easy at first. I got into some bad scrapes a few times, thrown into insane situations, got horribly sick and often wanted to catch the next plane home. But I stuck at it, and it's made me a lot tougher, and, hopefully, a much better person. I was actually chatting to an old friend about this a while ago, and I lied to her. It's only now that I realise. When she asked if I ever got scared, I just answered no. Truth be told, I've been scared out of my wits more times than I can count, and I know I will be again. I can either let the fear paralyse me, or fight through the fear. Every time I fight it, it gets a little easier. In the end, everyone has their fears. For me, it's the fear of having regrets. The fear of kicking myself later in life for not grabbing hold of a great opportunity now. The fear of having no stories to tell my (eventual) grandchildren. It's only by taking the road less travelled that I'll ever have these stories. I guess, in a way, that's what my life is all about.