Will I Find My Way Home?

So a friend called me yesterday and asked me if I would ever see myself live back home again.

In the past years, I strongly believed that yes, I could go back home – I’d live close to my parents and not see them once every two years, I’d have either a job in the music industry (I still get calls to come back to my old job) or in marketing (‘come home to your parents, I’ll give you a job in what you love and know’), I’d see my best friends at least weekly.

And to me, this seems amazing – why am I even struggling in London with £20 to my name? Why am I renting instead of living in my own apartment? Why don’t I go back to the people I love? And why don’t I accept my dream job in concert organising?

Because, you see, this does all sound amazing. Anybody would urge me to go home, as it’s clear as day that I would be happier, more fulfilled.
But then you take a hard look and realise the massive differences. People back home don’t understand Twitter – they post incomplete sentences that link to a longer Facebook post (and you don’t understand anything without clicking and who loves redirection), they don’t check what they post (‘we love this photo by Xyz’ – and there aren’t any photos attached!), they don’t understand how to use bitly, they post stuff without proper keywords.

Digital marketing means nothing to them – ask a graduate of Marketing and they have no idea what SEO is- the basics of Marketing are lost on them. They don’t understand they shouldn’t hve duplicate content or broken links. So how could I aspire to find someone who’d let me apply my knowledge without thinking I’m trying to rip them off?

And then comes the more important stuff – currently, people are in the streets protesting against corruption, people are fighting for the ‘traditional family’ (to define marriage as a union between a man and a woman), everyone tries to con you at every step.

It’s not all bad, don’t get me wrong. I have friends who are flourishing in their chosen careers – however none of them in Marketing. So how could I consciously choose to go back?

So no, my friend, I wouldn’t see myself live back home again.

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