Someone mentioned to me tonight that I must have gypsy blood still running through my veins.
I had to pause and think about this. I agreed, this is completely true of my life at this moment. I am quite restless in my actions. My mind is always on the go, not focusing on any one area of interest. I can find myself reading for hours about a variety of topics that are generally on opposite ends of the spectrum. I have an open mind, willing to take in everything I hear and contemplate it, consider its worth, whether it’s a negative or a positive force.
I’m never satisfied with where I’m living. I wasn’t fully happy in Whitehorse, Yukon. I wasn’t completely happy in Regina, SK. I wasn’t happy in Hartford, CT. I wasn’t happy in Regina when I returned there. And now I’m not happy here in Syracuse, NY. Is this because of the people I meet, or am I bound to be a restless person the rest of my life?
I won’t deny that there are great appeals to being a journeyman in life. I could be meeting numerous people with a great variety of backgrounds. I could see all the sites in the world that are meant to be seen, and discover all the private areas that only a select few have settled on. I would get to taste exotic foods, or the plain ones that are always satisfying.
But then I wonder if I’m running away from something. Is this gypsy blood causing me to escape a personal fear I have of settling down and being married, being scared of a 9-5 job, being scared that I may not be a good father or husband in life?
Or am I searching for something that I don’t know exists, searching for that perfect woman, for that perfect job, for that perfect situation that allows me to do everything I dreamed of doing and then everything else I haven’t even thought about?
Why is my mind full of questions that have no answers? Maybe it’s my curiousity that is driving me, my thirst for knowledge. My lust for intelligence.
Whatever it is, I’m cursed with gypsy blood.