I just took my watch off to type. Things are about to get serious.
My posts have been light, goofy posts because this time, I’m actually sharing them on my Facebook. Which is terrifying to me. It was hard enough to know that about 5 people were reading my blog while I was studying in Spain. But at least then, I was a little more honest with my readers (but I won’t lie – I censored a lot).
It is really hard to really share my writing with the world. I have a journal that I’ve been keeping here, and that’s where the good stuff is. But there’s something about really sharing, really opening up, that’s clawing at my heart. Like I need to show the world what this experience in Prague has really been like. So stop reading now if you want. Or keep going. I’ll never know.
What can I say about it to get really honest?
Here’s my issue: commitment. It’s kind of funny. “Commitment issues” are constantly a topic of discussion, especially among the ever-sharing womenfolk. But I’m not talking about love (because we all know I’ll think about moving to another state for it). I’m talking about work.
I have moved – temporarily to Idaho, then a little more hopefully to Denver, and then a little more boldly to Prague – for jobs. And every time, once the time finally came around to landing a job, I’ve found a major problem with it. Nope. This isn’t the job I want or need. This isn’t the job that will be the start of my career(s). And then I make a new plan. And people roll their eyes, and give me advice, and try to be supportive, and I’m off again on a new “adventure.”
And now I’m technically homeless in Prague. I have no income. I have no real place. And I’m looking for jobs and thinking, There’s no way I can sign a contract for a year! Where are the summer camps?!
And when some friends suggested that Prague wasn’t the place for them, that they were going to Thailand to teach instead, I hopped on that bandwagon for a full 48 hours before jumping back off again. Shots! A visa! Thailand?! I couldn’t do it.
And then I roamed around Prague a little bit more and actually stayed in a decent part of it and I fell in love. And I realized, Yes, I can stay here. And I found restaurants that served vegetables and water for free and I thought, And I can lose these pounds put on by beer and meat and dumplings and live a semi-normal “Lauren” life. And I drank the water down.
I saw an apartment yesterday that I’m considering living in. I had plans (with the same friends who wanted to go to Thailand) to get an apartment. We found a beautiful 4-bedroom apartment in a great area of Prague, but the deal fell through. A girl admitted not knowing how long she would be in Prague, and the owner felt uncomfortable in our insecurities and backed out. With three days left in our current residence, plans started changing. Thailand was thrown on the table. I was left uncertain of anything, once again.
And so at least I have decided that Thailand isn’t an option for me, not at this point. And that’s good. And I’ve decided that I really could keep living in Prague. And so this apartment yesterday was one that I found on Expats.cz. It’s a temporary residence – the girl is leaving for the summer to go on “holiday.” And it’s a great apartment and I’ll share it with a Czech girl named Lenka and it’s by a park and I’ll have a dog for a summer.
And it’s all just really freaking weird to me, this life that I’m choosing to live. Because I feel like I’m just floating around, like nothing is really for me because I cannot make a commitment to anything – not even an apartment for more than 3 months. It’s kind of amazing that I committed to college and finished through with it. But I guess that wasn’t an option for me. It was something I knew I would do, since I started thinking about my future and being a “grown up.” In 8th grade, we made a memory book and each student had a page that had quotes and activities and future plans on it. And my future plans weren’t “to be a nurse,” or “to get famous” or any other definite and seemingly impossible thing that an 8th grader can manage committing to. My future plans were “to go to college and get a job,” because even as a thirteen-year-old, I didn’t have a clue where ”my place” would be, but I understood the obligation to “get a job.”
I just want to go live in a tree house or something.