Words of Wisdom?

This post is an apology for the lack of communication recently, as I have moved off the radar and back home to Co. Kildare (only for a sneaky holiday, mind)! Thoughts of 'where is my life going?', 'what path to choose?', and more endless possibilities have been floating around in my head for months now. So much so that I have completely disregarded London & Paris Fashion Week - something I am not proud of... I find decisions difficult, decisions to decide irritating, and commitment fearful. 'Indecisiveness' is my middle name, much to my frustration!

Scotland has been my home for almost 5 years, so I wonder is it time for a change of scenery? I followed Robert Frost's inspiring poem and took 'The Road Not Taken'; I uprooted my life and set up home in the Scottish hills to study what I was passionate about. I spread my wings and moved country, an unorthodox and scary notion. I became independent and free, made life-long friends who I will always cherish, and obtained a 2:1 degree in Fashion Management in the process.

Thoughts of travel has always beckoned me, whispering words of persuasion into my ears late at night. The opportunity to experience new cities and cultures; the chance to meet new and interesting people; to discover 'Who I Am', and so forth. Inter-railing around Europe offers the chance to make invaluable memories, new friends, and some questionable decisions. 

Moving back to Ireland would mean no rent (a chance to save for travelling). Home means free food and shelter, no worries. Home means being with family and friends, and not having to miss out on important and special events. I could learn to drive, because not knowing at the age of 22 sounds outrageous. I could explore all areas of fashion, apply for internships and pursue a career with something I am truly passionate. Retail is way overrated... 

I could dare to 'dream the impossible dream' and write. I could apply for positions in Dublin magazine houses, or Newspapers, writing fashion related and future trends articles. From a young age I always embraced my English homework, and got carried away writing short stories - once my teacher sellotaped £2 in my English copy because he enjoyed the 12 page story so much. I was 10. I spent summers' as a child writing stories, but never managed to finish them, or give them a deserving enough ending. What if moving home meant I could finally finish a story of mine? I could tell my story. Would anyone even want to read my story?

It's decision time, lads. 

Any words of wisdom?

raebelle

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