Everything on my desk — save for the collages, photos and toys I brought to decorate my desk and keep me human — annoys me. I sit in front of a two-piece, L-shaped desk cluttered with remnants of projects that hardly tickle my fancy: price sheets, printouts, books and various data CDs. Phone lists, sticky notes and holiday notices adorn the edges of my LCD monitor as the Mac Pro tower looms to its right.
I’m ready to flip this desk — and all its contents — over and onto the the floor. I’m ready for something new, something different, something challenging. I’m ready to put in my two weeks’ notice and move.
I know this journey into South Korea isn’t always going to be a cakewalk. I know there are going to be days I’ll be stuck at my school, behind a desk with nothing to do for hours. I’m sure the novelty of saying I live in Korea will wear off within the first couple months, but the fact that will make it all better will be knowing I’m more than 6,000 miles away from everything to which I’ve grown accustomed and pushing myself to do what I want.
The other night, I was talking with my mom about the details of my departure (and all the other nitty-gritty details about which moms tend to worry) when the conversation detoured into the future. I told her I had no real idea what was next on my life’s docket after my year-long contract expires in Korea, but those concerns come after things such as making sure I can find my Korean apartment at the end of each day. In the end, she told me to make sure I wasn’t gone for too long and that I’d come home every now and again — which shouldn’t be a problem based on past experience. I’ll always need some time refresh and collect myself.
In the meantime, I’ll find out in the next year whether dinking around the world really suits me. In the end, it might not, but right now it’s fun to dream, and I’m welcome to change.
Change that comes in 30 days.