More than a month has passed since I came back from Denmark. I’ve been thinking: “I’ll write a nice big post that sums it all up! I’ll say what I loved and hated about Denmark and its people, what new experiences that place gifted me with” and so on and so forth.
So far, I have had no motivation to write that post whatsoever. I just don’t feel like doing it. My experience from Denmark, as time passes, becomes more and more confused in my head. Details are slipping away. My skills in Danish, after months of understandable, no, welcome unuse, are leaving me like the alcohol leaves a boiling pot of rakomelo. I get more and more tired of talking about Denmark when people ask for the simple reason that I feel as if I have not many interesting things to say. I mean, what: “Yeah, it was kind of boring and mundane most of the time, Denmark and the Danes were a disappointment for the most part, but the Erasmus experience was nice, I met new people and made great friends” blah blah blah. I’m just feeling kind of indifferent towards the past few months of my life abroad. It was generally an uninspiring experience. The most inspiration came from the people I met that became my new international friends, the ones that gave me the great motivation that made me want to learn new languages — I’m hyped to say I’m studying German and Spanish and feeling great about it. But other than that…
A good thing it left me with, no question, is even more of a sense of being a good friend of myself, just doing my own thing and having fun. This kind of independence, welcome as it is, also has left me a little bit scared. Lots of times I prefer staying alone and doing whatever it is I like doing each day than meeting friends or going out. Aarhus had me sharpen my introvert side to a bleeding sheen, made me just accept who I am including probable and improbable manifestations of myself depending on the circumstances and people and all that. But right now, I feel… not exactly not sociable, no. I want to get to know new people, sure. It’s just that I’m in the phase of “but where are all the nice people at? They must not exist at all”. Which is of course a delusion of extraordinary magnitude and unfortunately a very common one among our generation.
Another thing that’s happening the past few weeks is that I don’t really feel like writing or talking about what I’m doing. I’m conscious that, right now, I prefer just living, honing my skills and spending my free time in various ways and just not talking about it at all. Who knows? Maybe it’s because I feel as if I have no-one to talk to? I mean, even my blog. Even if I write here, what’s the point? This, the point: I’m trying to figure it out. Why not just go out and live rather than sit here, essentially boasting? I started off this blog with the idea to “write things worth reading or do things worth writing”. I certainly have done so in the past: myself from four years ago would look at me and beam with satisfaction, proud of the things I have done and maybe written. But, right now, I feel as if what I write is not worth reading and what I do is not worth writing either. That is not to say that I’m not doing things worth doing. No, no! I think I’m now doing very worthwhile things but of questionable narrative worth. With experience comes maturity and now I have greater expectations from what a thing worth writing about might be. I want to write something inspiring; not for you, dear reader, but for me. I hope this day comes soon.