Norwich for the weekend

I’m in Norwich for the weekend for a gig. Not my gig. An artist named L.A. Salami. I love his music. He is a poet first, as I understand it. And he turns his poems into songs. Beautiful lyricism. 

He tells his stories in rhythm through music. I see myself as a writer and I love language. It’s like hearing someone tell you their life story. I love discovering artists whose music takes me into their world. And so I travelled to Norwich to hear him play. 

To be honest, I use any excuse to book a trip. Get away from my usual life. Explore a new town and walk around. Talking to new people and trying new food. Maybe this restlessness is simply my youth having the upper hand.

I have a very respectable 9-5 back home, and I love the work I do. But I can’t imagine myself staying in that routine all the time. The rat race swallows me. 

I sit at home and all I can see are the mountains of chores and projects I want to finish. Not to enjoy the process, but to check them off my list.

But when I go away, I can see my life more clearly. From a distance, everything makes more sense. I struggle with accepting that my life isn’t what it could be in my mind. Why do I live my perfect life when I travel, but succumb to the routine when I’m home?

I can’t afford to go on little trips like this every couple months. This will probably be the last one for a while.

I don’t have a fairytale life where I can travel anytime I want. I romanticize the times where people would travel for months and stay in all kinds of beautiful places for the summer or winter. I want a lifestyle like that too. I might be aiming way too high and I’m already in a place of incredible privilege, but I can’t help but dream bigger. Is that my youth too?

I’m staying in Norwich for one more night. Tonight I’m seeing a gig from an artist I love. And tomorrow I’m travelling back to the rest of my life.