Hideout

I've always been pretty good at hiding from responsibilities. Taking the first plane somewhere far far away and leaving this thing called 'reality' behind me. Entering a state of travel trance. Moving in a bubble and bop on from one adventure to another. Fears, worries and seriousness are left behind. In my backpack, I don't have much room. Dress up outfits and a tent is all I need to feel at home. Extra weight on my shoulders becomes a burden. My head is free and so is the rest of me. 

The last couple of weeks I've been in a funny head space. Somewhere in between planets my head was roaming, which made it difficult to get my feet on Belgian ground and live in the moment. Constantly looking for stimuli, I can't seem to find peace of mind. Google maps and flight sites have been my best friends for the past few days. The longing to run away from reality is getting stronger. Belgium has got this strange effect on me, where I feel useless but get lots of shit done at the same time. It's like the country slaps me in the face every morning: get up! Get a job! Wash your hair! Shave your legs! Go to class! No, don't wear that, that's a wedding dress! No dress ups in normal life! Send more resumes and get yourself a bloody job! Now!!

I haven't really been listening much to this slap-pep-talk given by Belgium. My head likes to fly out of the window and daydream about Australian rainforests too much. Focusing is hard. But in the mean time I graduated as a herbalist and learned how to play saxophone. I lose myself in the French language and late night dancing. Especially in combinations of both. I read about Anthony Kiedis' crazy life and melt at a Jose Gonzalez concert. Life is throwing me around while I'm stuck in one place. So there must be a party in my head. The chaotic kind, with drunks who get in fights and bike rides home that end in a crash. Great. Time to clean up this mess before I can go back to real life and use my head for real things. Like thinking about where I'll hide out next.