independence
I have tagged 2 blog posts with independence:
Embracing Solo Living: A Delightful Journey of Self-Discovery and Growth
Hello, wonderful people!
Ah, the joy of the darndest things in life – living alone for the first time! I think it is something we all fantasize about at some point, isn't it? Well, I am here to share my delightful roller coaster ride with you. As I'm typing this, I'm nested quite comfortably in my late morning train, carving my path through the 2°C cold towards Oslo. And let me tell you, life couldn't be more exhilarating!
Living alone, many perceive it to be just about freedom – setting your own rules, cooking your own meals (which doesn't always turn out as expected) or dancing around in your underwear. But there's so much more! It is about a fantastic journey of self-discovery and growth.
Now, before I moved out, I was warned about the lonely moments and the heavy weight of chores. But there's something mystical about these tasks. They've become, oddly enough, some sort of meditative sessions, therapeutic even. It's those ten minutes busied over a mound of dishes, or the sweet victory of conquering a stubborn pile of dirty laundry that has yielded tiny fragments of peace in my life.
A part of the experience that I warmly cherish is the freedom of personal space. My karaoke concerts held in the kitchen while cooking are legendary, and I'm quite certain my neighbors will concur quite strongly. And let's not forget about my impromptu dance offs with my reflection in the bathroom mirror - they have truly been a sight to behold. The thrill and downright silliness is something you have to experience to fully appreciate.
And sure, I understand that a news article caption reading 'Opening tags of an HTML document' sounds as exciting as watching paint dry. But that's the beauty of living alone for the first time; ordinary things can suddenly become thrilling.
By no means is it all rosy; there are plenty of hardships. But it's in those challenges where some of life's most profound lessons are embedded. It's the desperate 2am scramble to find a 24-hour grocery store because you realized you're out of toilet roll, or finally mastering that recipe after countless failed attempts - these moments of struggle lead to sweet triumphs of self-reliance and problem-solving.
Living alone for the first time has, delightfully, given me the opportunity to get to know myself a little better. I have discovered that I can rustle up a mean curry, have a penchant for jazz that I never knew of, and that I am capable of swallowing that scary-looking spider rather than fleeing in terror (Okay, the last bit might be a slight exaggeration!)
With each passing day, I find more and more joy in carving out my path, immersing myself in the hearty soup of blossoming adulthood. Even though I frequently trip over or hit a bump, I do it with a big, enthusiastic smile on my face because I know that each little stumble is just another fantastic ingredient added to my soup.
To conclude, the journey has been an interesting blend of tasty independence, spicy hardships, and a dash of 'I have no idea what I'm doing ,but let's do it anyway.' And believe me, that's the best dish you'll ever have the pleasure of consuming. I wholeheartedly recommend this unique journey of living alone for the first time to all of you. It's an adventure, one that you won't regret, and, above all, it's deliciously fun. And now, you'll excuse me as the delightful Oslo skyline is coming into sight, promising another day of magnificent adventures in my life. Until our paths cross again!
Yours Forever in Enthusiasm and Adventure.
An Unexpected Journey: Unpacking the Reality of My First Rental Home
The sun is low, the sky a murky grey, painting the Oslofjord as if washed in a pool of melancholy. Outside, the temperature hovers at a crisp 14°C, a perfect mirror of my mood - not too warm to be content, not cold enough to numb. The train shudders rhythmically beneath me as I make my journey home from the city, tickling my senses like a melancholic heartbeat.
A dull buzz hums through the carriage, murmurs of conversations muffled by the distance of my own thoughts. My fingertips dance against the cool metal of my laptop, a silent symphony unwinding itself into words. Tunes, barging like uninvited intruders, break the monotonous hum now and then.
Today, I look back on my hasty leap into independence. That first uphill battle of navigating through the complex world of rentals. A teenager, fresh out of the nest, navigating the unnerving maze of adulthood masked as a humble apartment. The mandatory deposits, the rules and clauses buried in contracts thick enough to work as doorstops. And yet, I thought I was ready for it all.
But reality was far from the illusion. No one told me of the sombre loneliness that echoed through empty rooms or the heavy silence that bore into you in the late hours of the night. The walls, as oppressive as they were confining, were cold, unfamiliar and alien. They bore no imprints of life, no memories, nothing to tether me.
I remember the aimless wandering, trying to mold an alien space into something warm and inviting. The realization that a home is more than just four walls, it's a feeling, a sense of belonging that takes time, effort, and patience. I remember the unbearable sadness of returning to an empty home, echoing with silence, pregnant with solitude.
The promptness of the news shadowed my gloomy thoughts. I had just finished reading about the situation in Israel. A global pandemic. Norwegians extradited. An aspect of reality I hadn’t even considered infiltrating my musings as I have seen my countrymen boarding a flight back home, leaving their lives, their homes behind.
For them, no home to return to could ever compensate for the comfort of their own homes in a foreign land, embraced by the paradox of familiarity amid strangeness. If it was heart-wrenching for me to confront the solitude in the corners of an unfamiliar room, how devastating would it be to be forced to abandon the concept of home altogether?
The train is pulling into my hometown station, indifferent to the emotional reverie it disrupts. The bracing cold air hits me as I step onto the platform, a reality check after the warmth within the train. The youth who moved to Oslo with ambitions, dreams, and fears has returned home with a newfound appreciation for this sacred space we call home. Home, the mere sound of the word echoing within me.
Expected to be about concrete roofs and locked doors, the first-time rental experience has taught me otherwise. Now I see that the home is not about the space you are given but about the emotions, the memories, the warmth, the familiarity that you embed into it.
More than just a rented space, it's a journey one embarks, the winding road of adulthood. And as the universe unravels the realities of home, moving, and pandemics, I understand. My first home away from home wasn't just a rental apartment. It was reality. My reality. For we all are, after all, just wandering in the labyrinth of life, in search of a place to call home.