pogoism

My last post began with the line “I try not to blog about anything too personal“. As I was sitting at my desk today, correcting the many spelling and grammar errors in that post, I wondered why I never blog about anything personal. It’s not as if anyone I know in real-life reads this (with the exception of my mum and possibly my brother).

As of today, I’m going to post about whatever I damn well please. I’m done worrying about what people think about me, or if they know too much about me. Obviously, I’m still going to self-censor myself to some degree, just in case I ever wish to run for public office – but generally I’m going to write what I want, when I want. It’s my blog dammit.

I’m even going to create a new category for it called “Life”. I know, right?

My boyfriend has a blackboard in his kitchen which he scribbles random drawings and phrases on. It’s cute. At the minute it simply says “happiness is a choice” with an picture of a stick man (his artistic skills leave something to be desired) jumping on a hill. Every time I see it, I’m reminded that I’m happy.

It’s an odd feeling – but it’s a feeling I’ve felt for the past few months. I can’t remember ever feeling truly happy before. High school was spent coming to terms with the fact I was gay, then desperately trying to keep it from my parents (I’d managed to convince myself that they’d freak out if I ever told them). During the last few years of high school I was counting down the days until I could leave for University and get out of where I was. I certainly don’t blame my parents for this – they did a great job bringing my brother and I up, and who I am today is because of them. I seriously underestimated them, and for that I’m sorry. But the fact remains, I was unhappy and I felt trapped. I needed out.

In September 2006, days after my 18th birthday, I moved to Belfast, Northern Ireland to go to Queen’s. My first semester was incredible – I was living on my own, I felt independent, I was doing a course I thoroughly enjoyed, I had made some amazing new friends and I came out (more about that in a future blog post…). But most importantly, I met my first boyfriend.

Before I met Sean, I had persuaded myself that I’d never meet anyone. I knew what the gay scene was like – superficial and full of narcissistic eejits. As I nearly always am, I was wrong. Sean was the best thing to happen to me in a long time. We met on the same night as I came out, in Kremlin.

And the was the beginning of my first relationship. It was fantastic – we had enough in common – but were also different enough – for it to work. Sure, it had its tough times, usually when we went away together, and one of the biggest reasons it worked is because we both valued and recognized the need for time apart. We certainly didn’t live in each others pockets.

Yet despite this, I don’t think I was truly happy. It wasn’t because of Sean, but I felt increasingly trapped. I needed out again.

Sometimes I worry that I’ll always feel like this – that once I’ve spent a certain amount of time in one place, I get bored with the relationships I’ve made, get bored with the place and generally feel stagnant. It frightens me, it really does. I worry that I’ll never be able to settle down. Even if I wanted to, the way I have my life planned at the minute means I won’t be able to for at least 10 years, by which point I’ll be over 30…

Having said all that, right now (and this is really the main point of this entry) I feel happy. I’ve done some thinking about why that might be. Having to restart my life again in a new place has made me more confident. Doing it in Belfast back in September ’06 was a first attempt, and I made a lot of mistakes which I learnt from. This time round I was the other side of the globe, and knew I had to give it my best. I met a lot of people when I came to Reno, the majority of which I no longer still talk to. However, I made some good friends, who I’ll have for life.

I also work, and the work I do is rewarding. I’m a scientist, I do what I love. Sometimes the work I does goes well, sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes it’s downright frustrating. But I’m motivated to want to do well in it, and to get the most out of my work time here. I’m only here for a year, after all.

UNR pay me to work here, but I get the feeling that they’ve worked out exactly how much I need to survive. It used to annoy me, constantly living week-to-week, month-to-month financially, but now I realize it’s actually quite liberating. I can’t quite put my finger on it.

I’m also with a great guy. After a few false starts before Christmas, I’ve found a guy who likes me for who I am, and doesn’t get annoyed at the very many annoying this I do. He’s settled, he’s ambitious and knows what he wants from life – all things I value highly. I never thought I’d find a guy like this after Sean – he’s an extremely hard act to follow.

Ahh… I think I’d better stop here! This post is nearing 1000 words. Well done and thank-you if you actually read that whole thing. I needed to vent what was on my mind. Apologies that it was so waffely…

Back to the title, I really do believe that happiness is a choice. So go choose it :) Life is what we choose to make it.