It has been over 3 months since writing my last post. I have been here in America for 6 months, 2 days ago.
Time flies, it’s a saying that everyone says but doesn’t really mean. 6 months, that is half of a year that I have spent on the other side of the globe from my home. I’m 19. I’m talking to people back at home that are a 3 hour drive away from their home and their bed, their family and their friends, yet they say they’re homesick and going to get a train back home. I’m not trying to say I’m homesick, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say I wasn’t excited to come home. I think people are spoilt sometimes. Again, I’m not saying I’m slumming it out on the streets of Chicago, but this is (or was) alien to me and I had to deal with it. You can’t just book a ticket and travel home for the weekend. This whole thing was the only thing I’ve ever committed to in my life. I didn’t ever commit to studying because I was lazy and idiotic and didn’t want to. I can’t think of anything else I’ve had a chance to commit to really, which speaks volumes I guess.
During my last post to now not a lot about me has changed. I have learnt a few things and have lost a few things. I have gained experiences and stories that people only dream of getting; I have met people that I wouldn’t have ever thought I’d get on with. I have lost a shit-tonne of money on clothes and food. Mostly food. I regret nothing.
I began and ended a relationship which actually made me realise that someday I will be a great husband. I just need to not be paranoid, which in turn means I’ll have to completely trust my girlfriend/fiancée/wife (which I did). I can’t wait to get married one day. I also can’t wait to have my own place. I think that being settled in one place is the greatest thing that can happen to you. My parents lived in their first house together for 20 something years I believe. This stability is vital. I know I can’t really talk about this with much experience, but my summer was a magnified view on life crammed into an 8 week period. I stayed in one place for 14 days and that was the longest before an 8 hour drive usually ensued.
During the Spring I had summer to look forward to, the road trips, the host-families, the parties. Towards the end of summer, i.e. when I stopped blogging, I was itching to get back to Chicago. This was a mixture of things. The travelling bored me. It sounds spoilt as I did end up in New York, but after the heat and the driving and everything else, I really couldn’t be bothered. The last group of coaches I worked with I didn’t really try to get on with, which I regret. I also wanted to see Brie. About 99% more than I expected when I first left in June, which is still a lot.
I finally got back to Chicago and was greeted with banners and signs welcoming me back home. And it did feel like home in comparison to some of the places I had been, not saying the places I stayed didn’t make me feel homely and welcome, but it’s not the same when you know you have to leave a week after you arrive. This homecoming to the Brathleen household was a microscopic version of what I hope for on my arrival back in London. The more I write about being home the more I want to be there. But I think this is because of the time I’m writing this post. Here is a quote for you all: “It’s a Sunday night, a night never to be trusted for emotions.” — John Mayer. True right? Like I say, I don’t 100% want to come home right this instance, but I have nothing else to look forward to now.
I need to have a break from coaching too. When I get back I will not be coaching kids for a while. It doesn’t even bother me that the kids I coach might as well be limbless when it comes to soccer. Like, some of them are genuinely that shite. But what pisses me off more than anything is when they come to practice and tell me that they don’t want to be there, or they just stand there distracting everyone. Look, if you don’t like football just tell your mum and dad, don’t come to practice with a shitty attitude and stop everyone else from learning. I sound and feel like a teacher from my high school, but until you’re in a situation like mine you can’t comment.
Some people think that knowing their problems is enough and they’ve convinced themselves that telling others of their own faults ends them. I’m not trying to claim to be something I’m not, like everyone is doing nowadays apparently, e.g. a psychiatrist or philosopher or fucking motivational speaker, but I heard people over the course of my time here saying stuff like “I need to stop being so…” (myself included). Just because you’re in a different country doesn’t make you a different person. When I’m home I can imagine people will be like “oh you’ve changed since being in America”, if I hear this in a serious, non-jokey way I’m going to be unimpressed. I’m still late for everything, I’m still competitive, I’m still hilarious and I’m still cocky. So hide yo’ kids, hide yo’ wife etc. because when I come back it’s going to be the beginning for me. (Not sure for what, but it seemed like a powerful way to end this extremely deep blog).
P.S. admit you missed me.