That's so me..

The other day I was talking to a friend I’d not seen in a fair while and, as usual - Since it would seem you can’t speak to me for more than 10 minutes without it coming up - I was telling him with unabashed excitement about my summer plans. I ranted happily about how I would be working in a school all summer, and before I could even get onto the joy at having a month to travel the states at the end he jumped in and said with total certainty ‘That is SO you. You’ll love it.’

He was right. It is, and I will. Well I hope I will. But I found myself feeling just a little annoyed, how could one thing be quite so instantly recognizably me. Surely there were a thousand different things that could all be equally me and not me all at the same time. I am more excited than I’ve ever been for this summer to arrive, it does feel so me but equally it feels like someone nothing like me is doing, like a Molly from an alternate universe is really the one going to camp. Because, let’s be honest, I don’t feel in anyway together enough to be heading off for 3 months of work on another continent.

I’m 21 and it scares me that people can fit me into neat categories in their heads. I know that to certain people I’m one of many shapes, but still I fit that shape in their head. I’m frequently seen as the trainee teacher, the young carer, the volunteer, the youth worker, the daughter, the friend. They’re all true and correct, but on their own they each feel a little alien. Like it could almost be true, but the shoe doesn’t quite fit.

I’m beginning to realise that I’m more of a collection of pieces, a jigsaw if you will. I’m all those things that people perceive and many more that perhaps don’t shine so obviously in my day to day life. In fact, in my confusion and exploration of all those things people say are so me, and all those that feel very me to me, I began to list all those things that I could say truly were so me.

A traveller. And a home bird.

A girl who wants to learn, anything and everything.

An introvert. Yet still, a little of an extrovert.

A lover of spontaneity, yet a hater of changed plans.

A rule follower. Perhaps to a fault.

A seeker of experiences.

A friend to anyone in need.

A kid at heart. Sometimes just a kid in general.

An artist. On some level at least.

Someone looking to do right.

A 21 year old still discovering what she wants. What she is. And what she could be.

I’m a patchwork of things, all of which could be so very very me, but that me changes daily and I find myself looking at all the other things I could be. Should I know now what is me? I don’t know how to begin to know what is me and what is the person I want to be. How much of what is perceived to be me is merely other people’s expectations? Or perhaps their expectations exist purely because I’m already on my way?

This story is just the beginning

So here I am, with my brand new blog and my eager beaver self, ready to get started. But what do you want to know. What I had for breakfast? Where my ultimate holiday would be? What my favourite colour is? Or maybe you want to know why I started this here blog? And that girls and boys is what I'm gonna answer.

Now we all know that a good story starts at the beginning and has a middle and an end, which is inevitably followed by the beginning of the next story and so on and so forth. This story though, starts at the end of the tale before, and well, as you'll see I'm not quite sure if we've made it beyond the start of the next one let alone to the fairy tale ending anytime soon. 

Let’s start at the end shall we. 

Results day bubbly with the dad

Once upon a time, May 2012 to be precise. There lived a hardworking 19 year old molly. She’d worked her butt off for 3 years to overcome naysayers and was, at last, graduating college. Fancy International Baccalaureate diploma in hand she confirmed her place at a top red brick university and I was ready to take on the world. That summer she spent a month backpacking Germany with her best friends and exploring bits of Eastern Europe. Life was decidedly rosy.

Obligatory Berlin bear with the besties.

When September hit she began her dream degree in American History and Literature and carried on following that good old guidebook to life, the one that’s so often preached at you in school. You know the one, follow High School road to University Avenue, after 3 years carry straight on over to Career Highway, optional detours to Wedding Town and Baby Boulevard allowed. 

Now don’t get me wrong, I have no issue with people who choose those things and follow that path. In fact for years that was my goal in life, to follow that yellow brick road and live a regular happy sparkly life.

But as you've probably guessed, that isn't quite how things went down. By December little miss molly had realized she did not want to be at that university (a story for a different day) and by February was back living at home, although not quite ready to give up on following the traditional path. She signed up for a new course. Primary Education in fact, right here in Newcastle and got ready, once again, to begin the rest of her life. Once again it was not to be she found myself struggling and took yet another break.

Now a year on since she first walked away from uni and 2 months on from the most recent detour she's found herself re-evaluating what  she really want from life. At 21 she was stepping off the map and exploring what was really around her for the first time. She happy to be looking for her happily ever beginning.

The End.. and The Beginning.

So there you have it. I have 10 months left to decide if university is for me, 10 months to travel, explore, and see the world. I don’t expect to have chosen a career in these 10 months or have got myself back on track. I’m using them to figure out where I want to be, to reroute the map, rewrite the guide book and smell as many roses as possible along the way. Gosh darn that was a lot of clichés and I've got one more for you. As Ralph Waldo Emerson said ‘Life is a journey, not a destination.'  (oops still an American literature nerd)