isn't it ironic?

as i've mentioned in the previous post, i'm at my grandma's for the weekend (even though it's monday evening, it feels like saturday), and i have this comforting, nostalgic feeling taking over me. the atmosphere is pretty much the same as it was a year ago, when i was about to make that awfully difficult decision, and i had no idea what to do next. what's been on my mind in the past few weeks (months, even?) is that i am in the same situation exactly a year later, when i don't know whether  i should follow my heart or reason (or somewhere in between), except it's the other way around than a year ago. this time i am eager to leave budapest behind, but it just would not make any sense.

so i reread those two long, utterly whining, stream of consciousness posts (this written exactly a year ago, and this from last august), and i can't help but wonder how ironic this crazy little thing called life is. and also, i cannot get that great 90's song, alanis morrissette's ironic out of my head. so if you don't remember (after all, why should you?) and can't care to reread those two utterly long but otherwise outstanding pieces of writing which clearly show what a great writer/genius i am (yet again, why should you?), then here is a bit of recap from last year's episode of the never ending drama of my life, a.k.a. growing pains of a scriboholic (working title)/ scenes from the house of quarter life panic (working title-runner up). 

so, back then, circa one year ago, after i'd learnt that i wasn't accepted to grad school and lost my room bed at the dorm i had been living at the previous four years, and thus became pretty much homeless in budapest, i had no idea what to do. i was glad to be finally out and rid of the glorious system of hungarian higher education, and even gladder with this enormous freedom i had, all of sudden, on my hands. but, as i learnt, freedom comes with a great deal of uncertainty, insecurity, and, in my case, anxiety as well (who would have thought?). anyhow, i had that lousy job at the language school (alas, i still do), which sentimental former me did not want to leave back then, but it wasn't enough (it is still not enough, in fact less enough) for me to rent a room. the sensible decision was to move home to miskolc, back to the nest, safe and sound under my mama's wings, and settle for a much less fun, entertaining, and culture-filled but way more secure life (or at least that's what i believed back then). then there was this other, much more entertaining, fun, friends- and culture-filled life i already had in budapest, which i admired with every fiber of my body and which i wasn't ready to leave at all.

so, in the end, i followed my heart, decided to stick it out with budapest. i chose the road less travelled by (it is? did i? still, nice allusion, isn't it? shows i've got the highest of all high educations, doesn't it?), i chose to struggle, and, in the end, i made it through (no madonna quotes today, sorry). once my accomodation was sorted, a mate of mine told me that whatever i want, i always find a way to get it. back then, i was surprised to hear it, but then, as i gave it a bit more thought, it occured to me that he was actually right, and now i am really grateful to him for pointing it out. because that is exactly what my mama always says to me, life was like a box of choco whatever i get in my head, i can always achieve it in the end. if the will is strong enough, somehow, i always manage to find a way in the end. i just have to want it strong enough. so now, whenever i am struggling, or feel like losing and throwing back those bloody, ever so yellow lemons in life's sour face, i just keep muttering under my nose, i will find a way, i will find a way, i will find a way.

in the end, i found a way, and stayed in budapest. but in this past eleven months quite a few things happenend, and i just cannot get that line from the perks of being a wallflower out of my head, "things change and friends leave and life doesn't stop for anybody". things have, indeed, changed, friends have left (or vica versa), and life just keeps rolling on. and so am i. you know, like a rolling stone. i have become fed up with budapest. i just can't see its beauty any more. i don't roam the streets, and don't take the thousand pretty photos of the million little beautiful spots. maybe it's just because it's summer and i loath, i mean l-o-a-t-h summer in the city. i literally cannot breath there. i feel like there is not enough oxygen in the air to fill my lungs. all i feel is filthy smog filling my lungs as i am waiting for the bus at astoria. i am sick of people. sick of commuting at least two and a half hours every day. sick of bkv buses, metros, people, all those bloody, filthy, stinky people.

 i miss trees. i miss the woods. i miss green. i miss grass, let alone sitting on grass. i can hardly wait for friday evenings to be done with budapest, to be able to hop on the train, to come home, and breath. i am sick of travelling, back and forth between budapest and miskolc. paying all that money (you sooo don't want to know how much i have to pay for bloody tickets for trains 30 years old, filthy and stinky and always late), the constant packing and unpacking, rushing from place to place, dragging that big black massive suitcase behind me. it feels like i am dragging my life after me, always going uphill in dead wind, and the road is filled with potholes. i feel like budapest is eating me alive, and i really don't feel like biting back. in fact, i feel like moving on.

i miss my home. i want to settle down. i want a stable home. i want all my stuff to be in one place. especially all my books. i want to take my pretty little typewriter out and enjoy the clickety-clack sound as i hit the keys.  i want to be close to my family. see my sister growing up. see my grandma growing old. get close to my brother. i want to live closer to nature. i want to be able to go to the forest. go hiking. go swimming. hop on a bike and ride around. i want to live in a village. i want to be a village girl. gardening. grow my own strawberries or peaches. teach in a primary school. i want to try myself out as a small town primary school teacher. i want peace and quite and small town living. i want to get to know my roots. i want to go back to basics. i am fed up with always being on the go. i want stability. i want time to sit, breath, contemplate, and write. i am fed up with rushing. i am fed up with not being able to breath.

i don't want to be this grumpy sour annoying bitch with a stick in her butt which i have been in the last few months. i want to be content and balanced. i don't just want to read in order to avoid life. i want to enjoy both life and the pages. so this is why i have made a decision. i am staying one more year in budapest, but then i am off, moving back home. the sole reason of my staying is the journalism/editor gig i've got going. now, that i've managed to get a spot on the magazine, i don't want to throw this good chance away after so few months. it would be really silly, even if i am not building a career, in fact, i don't give a damn about it. but i figure, it's a good place go gain some experience at, to have another line i can put into my resume, not to mention that i can learn a thing or two while writing for four hours every day.

one thing i have already learnt is that writers' block is a fine piece of bullshit. there's no such thing as writers' block. lazy writers came up with a term to have an 'official' excuse for procrastinating. you simply sit down, and write. because writing is nothing but work and discipline. to get better, you need a hell of a lot of exercise. there's no  trick to it, you simply have to write. the more you practice, the better you get. if you have to write something, you simply have to sit down, stop bitching about, and get to work. the first few sentences might be lame, but then, as you warm up, you will get better. period.

anyway, i am spending this one last year in budapest. i am looking for a flat to rent from september 1st with two mates of mine, as there's no way i can stay in the dorm for another year (and i don't want to stay anyway). i often find myself counting down the days, even though i am not sure where i should start counting from? should i start in september? but that would mean i have more than one year left, and that would seem awfully long. i like to think i already started counting in june. because i cannot bear another summer in the city. deep in my heart, i do know that i should stop counting the days, and, instead, i should make this last year count. but that just seems quite difficult now. 

anyhow, reflecting on those two posts from one year ago, life is, indeed, as ironic, as it can get. it's one year later, i am still living in the dorm, but again, about to move out and move on with my life. and, as it turns out, i am sticking with mark twain, when it comes to post-university setting-my-foot-in-adult-life decisions. i have found work for myself, even though it's not the hard labor kind, i do work a lot, and have two jobs, in fact. i am meeting a bunch of people, forever rushing, roaming, facing, aching, hurting, reading, noting, writing, and gaining some serious experience out there in that crazy little thing called life.

 i was going to write that the hitting-the-road part has to still wait a bit longer, but then it occurred to me that i have, actually, been on the road since i was 18. i only got a bit stuck at this current station, but i am already getting ready, sorting my things, getting rid of the redundant items, stuffing my backpack, almost ready to move on. because shorty, i shall be off, on the road again.