Growing up in rural New Zealand was a pleasant experience. But by the time you are in high school and you find your self enjoying history classes, and the history mostly concerns everywhere but New Zealand you start to have a feeling.
That feeling is that "the world" is out there. Over seas.
If you don't journey across those seas you will be missing out on what is real, on the history that is, on life, real life.
Living in New Zealand is still living with your parents, and your watching TV instead of going to the dance. Maybe, maybe it's a great dance, you might have a great time. Sure it might be a not be, but it might be, great. What you know for sure is the living room of your parents house holds no possibility of great.
When I left the boarding school the very few friends I had made in those years had returned to there respective home town and country. Far from me.
As I went through my first post high school year I felt a profound sense of sadness. I concluded that primary reason for this was the absence of real friendship, and that real happiness can only be achieved through having real friends.
I was looking for a job and then I found a job and heaven knows I'm miserable now... That was scrawled on the wall of the packing room in the factory where I worked.
Laboring in a factory means that you have a lot of time unoccupied by thought.
But thoughts still come. After the usual, "what will I be having for dinner" kinds of thoughts you are confronted with just how empty your life is.
I tried to keep in contact with my friends through letters. In one of these letters Jason told me that his family was planning to move to Canada. I was technically Canadian, so I should come too.
An opportunity to fee. Flee the drudgery and loneliness, to go. A possibility of something. Rather than the nothing that was my life. An invitation to the dance.