Dreams... dreams of you and me

You, the girl of my dreams. You, the adidas factory outlet that had beckoned ever so seductively at I who was trapped within an unfeeling, relentlessly bus guzzling avariciously (lol I thesaurus-ed this) on the neverending, meandering road ahead. It's odd, I've taken my blogging to true journaling - that is writing with pen on paper. 

Right now, I am on te coach, as I have been for most of the days (most of the time of the days, everyday that is) and I am listening to the music on my phone (the Turkish music playing from the speakers onboard are... not quite my taste, unsurprisingly). Song playing through my inner-ear earphones (that block out 70%? 80%? of the surrounding sound, thankfully) is "Love it When You Call" by The Feeling. Good, cheerful, uplifting song while the coach navigates through the dry highlands located within the bowels of Turkiye. It is 340km to Istanbul, a good few hours of coach-riding before we reach our final stop of the trip. It's been quick-going, these days (fortunately?),  aided by the sun setting at 5pm (it is 4.15pm now by the way, I'd better write quick). My tailbone area is a little sore, I've probably clocked at least, and easily too, 40 hours on my bum including the 10 hour plane ride. It's been a long time I've preferred standing to sitting! I've been rather different that way - amongst other ways I've been different. 

Recently I'd imagined myself being better at talking to adults. Well I do hope it's not my imagination, for I'd quite connected with 'em elders like I've never before recently. But having been on this trip with a group whose average age I'd gauge at 40-ish, I finally understood why people claim adulthood extreme boredom. The past few days have been as dour days I've had in recent times (the past year perhaps), I haven't had a good laugh on the trip (save for from 4-4-2 magazine) and I've just been hanging around my phone, my cap, my Life is Good hoodie and souvenir shops all selling the same things! It's been such terrible dullness at times I think I might have teared in boredom or torn my hair out - it was that bad!

I hadn't quite recognised the generation gap that existed between my mum and I till now. (It is 320kim to Istanbul now by the way, and it's beautiful, the scenery - just past by a valley of pine tress and snow-covered ground. Nice.)  It isn't that  my mother isn't cool... or that I am way too cool (hmm... perhaps I shouldn't be ruling this out). She's just cool in a different sort of way, in the sense that she grants me an immense load of freedom, relative or not. She doesn't quite appreciate my kind of music though, and conversation between us doesn't quite come easy. 

During this time I've found seventeen a most odd age to be too. Perhaps it is exacerbated by me not being the most proactive socially on the trip, but I've found talking to adults on the trip not quite the easiest thing to do, or at least the connection is hard to establish. Well, I just don't quite enjoy talking to adults right now, for they seem to have a certain zest and fun sucked out of their souls (:0). There are three kids on the trip, and I can't quite get myself to bother about them because you know, I'm at a grand old sagely age of 17 and besides they've got the sec 1 girl to entertain them. I only go into CEC mode when required, as with most other modes. Now, into zzz mode I go!

- written on a coach steaming through vast fields/barren hills/snow-covered ground on winding roads, which sorta accounts for the utterly boring writing.