This Old Town.

     

Sorry in advance, I have severe writers block.

I have the start of so many posts ready in my mind, but no way to get the words out of my head. Which is ironic; because that’s the entire point of this blog.

This block has nothing to do with my mind being empty, and everything to do with my life being empty.

See, I work 2 jobs, 5-6 days a week. Both with absolutely no correlation to what I want to do as a career.

My routine is getting boring. And I’m getting itchy. Itchy for change. Itchy for life to throw something at me to turn things around.

Every week is the same. I work the same shifts at the same jobs. I see the same 3 friends. I watch the same YouTubers, I even drink my fucking coffee from the same cup each morning.

I live in the same deadbeat area I was born in. With no promises of a bright future. For me or anyone else stuck in it.

I see the same people doing the same things each day. Rarely a new face. Though, when there is, I’m convinced it’s just a face I’ve forgotten.

Nothing exciting happens here. Everyone looks the same. Everyone sounds the same. Everyone conforms to the same bullshit standards of the “community”.

Individuality is shunned rather than embraced. I could quite literally only select a handful of people who aren’t the same as everyone else.

But that’s the thing with “small” communities, isn’t it? Everything is almost too structured. There are too many unwritten rules that the inhabitants follow. Not unwillingly, just unknowingly.

I live in a rural almost-country area, and I think it’s safe to say that sheep aren’t just farm animals around here.

I’m currently sitting outside a particular building in town, watching the same 10 kids on their scooters at the skate park. The same people I see every Wednesday doing their after work grocery shopping… and I think I’ve seen the same t-shirt on at least 4 different people.

I don’t know what it is about small towns. But they’re all very much of a muchness.

Since I was a child, I can remember travelling through the city… looking at all the buildings and the people, people with crazy hair, or bright coloured rain coats as opposed to the brown, highlighted hair and black jackets people wore in my hometown… people wearing band t-shirts of bands they actually knew, not just shirts they purchased from Kmart or Big W to help them look “edgy”.

I remember my sister coming home for the weekend with dreadlocks, or hippy-style fashion that turned heads in the Main Street because she just didn’t look quite right.

I’ve never wanted to fit into the small Towner stereotype. With my straight cut brown hair (blonde foils optional) I’ve had no interest dressing in tracksuit pants and a hoodie when I’m down the street…

I’ve always identified as some what of a loner… but maybe I’m not. Maybe I just don’t want to fit in here. Maybe I don’t want to fit in at all.

Maybe, the itch, is an itch to get out of here, and be somewhere I can be truly embraced for exactly who I am… though if I’m being honest, I’m not even sure who that person is yet. I’m still trying to figure that out…

Wish me luck.

– Z

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