TLT was born...
When I was a kid, I didn’t like much in the way of anything.
Whenever I felt like I wanted to learn something or go somewhere, it was never something that I was allowed to do. I don’t blame anyone really, my ideas of fun were usually pretty far-fetched and/or time consuming. I’m talking jumping off bridges into the river or going to a festival in Croatia for the weekend. The kind of things my family wouldn’t back me on.
Growing up, I always tried to impress. Attention-seeking was my aim, getting into some sort of mischief was my game. Teachers hated me, other students were wary of me. My parents struggled to deal with my challenging and excessive behaviour. I was never satisfied. I felt I had so much more to give, so much more to experience as a kid. No one understood that, and I remained highly frustrated. I wanted to break free. I wanted to learn about the world from my own set of eyes and ears, not from some battered old teacher with some battered old book.
As crazy as it sounds, I used the moon as my go-to place, where I could just stare at it, like a bug to luminescence, wishing I was somewhere else. In fact, I still looked out (or up) for our lunar companion all the way into my university years. Dare I say, beyond that, too? I most likely did. Nevertheless, I have tried to explain why I did this countless times to others. Mostly to no avail.
That moon always gave me a light, something I can could sit with and dream of places I wanted to go, people I wanted to meet; wonders I could see, photos I could take…
Basically, how I see it is this: The moon faces Earth at a certain angle, which changes slightly, depending on where you are on Earth, longitudinally. It also appears bigger and brighter in some places more than others, and so therefore, just has a different look, altogether. There is more cloud cover in England than there is in, for instance, India. An old CD in my collection is The Slim Shady LP, an Eminem masterpiece, and it shows a large glowing moon behind where Em and his baby daughter stand (and Kim’s legs sticking the boot of his car). So, in my younger and more naïve mind, America had large moons, different from home; better than home.
It was, in hindsight, my motivation to get the F outta there. Get out of my hometown with all those cliquey friendship groups, away from a shitty mainstream school that had no idea why I was so crazy. Away from a shitty, aggressive father and a mother that probably at that point saw nothing but a difficult and worrisome future for me. I suppose it has become a symbol of my desire to go out into the world.
I wanted to inspire, to learn, to breathe; to shout from tops of mountains, and swim deeper than my ears would let me. To hitchhike through foreign countrysides and run through untouched jungles. I didn’t know I wanted all these things but I wanted more than what I had. A family holiday to France, or a school trip to Wales didn’t count; I needed to be let off the leash.
And then I realised: Matthew, grow up. Take each experience you can and learn from it, make some money, explore what relationships feel like, get an education, connect with people, be good to your family; and maybe, just maybe, you can get the F outta there.
And years later, this Lonely Traveller sits in Prague. The moon shines brightly here, too.
Growing up, I always tried to impress. Attention-seeking was my aim, getting into some sort of mischief was my game. Teachers hated me, other students were wary of me. My parents struggled to deal with my challenging and excessive behaviour. I was never satisfied. I felt I had so much more to give, so much more to experience as a kid. No one understood that, and I remained highly frustrated. I wanted to break free. I wanted to learn about the world from my own set of eyes and ears, not from some battered old teacher with some battered old book.
As crazy as it sounds, I used the moon as my go-to place, where I could just stare at it, like a bug to luminescence, wishing I was somewhere else. In fact, I still looked out (or up) for our lunar companion all the way into my university years. Dare I say, beyond that, too? I most likely did. Nevertheless, I have tried to explain why I did this countless times to others. Mostly to no avail.
That moon always gave me a light, something I can could sit with and dream of places I wanted to go, people I wanted to meet; wonders I could see, photos I could take…
Basically, how I see it is this: The moon faces Earth at a certain angle, which changes slightly, depending on where you are on Earth, longitudinally. It also appears bigger and brighter in some places more than others, and so therefore, just has a different look, altogether. There is more cloud cover in England than there is in, for instance, India. An old CD in my collection is The Slim Shady LP, an Eminem masterpiece, and it shows a large glowing moon behind where Em and his baby daughter stand (and Kim’s legs sticking the boot of his car). So, in my younger and more naïve mind, America had large moons, different from home; better than home.
It was, in hindsight, my motivation to get the F outta there. Get out of my hometown with all those cliquey friendship groups, away from a shitty mainstream school that had no idea why I was so crazy. Away from a shitty, aggressive father and a mother that probably at that point saw nothing but a difficult and worrisome future for me. I suppose it has become a symbol of my desire to go out into the world.
I wanted to inspire, to learn, to breathe; to shout from tops of mountains, and swim deeper than my ears would let me. To hitchhike through foreign countrysides and run through untouched jungles. I didn’t know I wanted all these things but I wanted more than what I had. A family holiday to France, or a school trip to Wales didn’t count; I needed to be let off the leash.
And then I realised: Matthew, grow up. Take each experience you can and learn from it, make some money, explore what relationships feel like, get an education, connect with people, be good to your family; and maybe, just maybe, you can get the F outta there.
And years later, this Lonely Traveller sits in Prague. The moon shines brightly here, too.
A jack of many trades.
A man with big ambitions and high self-drive.
A quick learner.
A well-travelled gentleman.
A man with big ambitions and high self-drive.
A quick learner.
A well-travelled gentleman.