Doing Anything Other Than Uni

The thought of this post came to me approximately 5 minutes ago, right as I was opening my maths textbook to begin Chapter 7 (that was supposed to be read last week). It’s been on my mind a lot lately – the thought of not doing uni any more. I know it’s just me being a sook and not wanting to deal with the workload (mainly the readings – trying to read 20-30 pages of small, dull writing in one sitting is enough to drive anyone mad) but it’s got me thinking: what would I do instead?

What would I do with all my spare time when I’m not working? Would I work more? Would life even change that much? No longer receiving study allowance would certainly suck, but overall it would open up a lot more time for doing things that I actually enjoy, but mostly…travelling.

I’ve been toying with the idea of going on a road trip around New Zealand’s South Island next year, preferably around September-October when it’s off peak season but there’s still some snow around. I was assured by a travel agent that I would be able to rent a car over there despite not being 25, and I figured 9 months between Bali and NZ would be enough time to pay off another holiday and hopefully save some cash to spend. Everything seemed like it would work out quite well, until a little piece of paper destroyed my dream.

So dramatic, I know, but it’s true. So today, just out of curiosity, I checked my degree planner to see what I am in for over the next two years – and boy did I get a scare. 5 subjects (including a placement) both semesters next year, and potentially more in the third semesters. I don’t know how I’m supposed to BREATHE let alone go on a 2 week adventure in September. Like I could potentially push it forward to June, the one month I have off between February and November, but it will be busy as then and blah, blah, blah.

I suppose it’s become quite a strong debate for young adults these days: do I go to uni, spend 3-4 years poor as shit to eventually get a degree and hopefully a decent paying job; OR do I work my ass off for 6 months and then jet off to the unknown? Both sides become a reality for thousands of people, and yet I still can’t decide. I don’t think I would ever go for too long (I’m way too comfortable with having all my stuff in one place again – even the mere thought of being homeless and all of my books returning to their box coffins makes me shiver) but it’s the allure of travelling that gets me every time. I can no longer walk out of a travel agency without having that little bug inside of me doing flips and protesting for another adventure. Soon, soon, soon, I have to reluctantly remind myself.

I just want to say that I am in no way complaining about my current life. In general, I think I am a pretty happy person; I’m comfortable with myself, have a rad group of friends, a good family and a nice unit in a town that I actually ENJOY living in. But like they always say (I think), once you travel you’ll never want to stop. That’s me alright. I’ve ticked off New Zealand, L.A., New York, New Orleans, Seattle, San Francisco, and many more towns throughout the eastern side of Australia; and I’m no where close to even CONSIDERING that I’ve seen enough. I probably never will, which both excites and marvels me at the same time.

But for now, I’m going to exit out of Safari and get my butt back into gear, because until I decide definitely that uni is no longer for me, there’s chapters to be read and a maths assignment to be handed in by Friday.

Over and out,

Vivienne

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