Week 8 - Cairns, Australia

 

     'Bro's living in a movie.' a comment from a friend on an Instagram reel of mine. To be honest it's all a blur—a trip to the Great Barrier Reef, white water rafting, waterfall wandering, an early morning hot air balloon ride. Every waking moment was spent doing something many people would label as a once-in-a-life-time experience. And at the end of it all, I can't help but ask myself: when will I experience a week like this again? Every day being what someone else would call movie-worthy.

    The hit to my bank account at the end of this week—after following my mother's "do everything" advice—made something even clearer: I can't live like this forever. Not without some million dollar business idea. Yet while sitting in yet another middle seat during my flight to Sydney I couldn't shake on thought: Why can't I try to live every day like I'm in a movie? That's when I started to define what makes my life movie-worthy. 

    After accounting for the fact that I was crafting my own definition—rather than chasing someone else's, my reflection quickly shifted. Instead of thinking about the things I did, I focused on the emotions I felt. The endless novelty and constant adventure. The fearlessness and outright desire to just try. The fondness for those around me. And then, I realized something: these emotions weren't exclusive to my most extravagant days. They had been there all along—sometimes even more so in the simplest moments. If you asked me to pick my favorite part of Cairns, it wouldn't be in the ocean swimming with the fishies, or looking down from a hot air balloon. It would be something far more ordinary, but just as meaningful—playing volleyball in the sand at the local park.

    Every night, as long as you showed up after six o'clock you were guaranteed a match. People of every skill level from what seemed like every country would fill the five different courts to play the sport I hold closest to my heart. I felt like a kid held captive at the dinner table, rushing to finish my meal just to get to the courts as fast as possible. I became a regular—same court, same time, with the same friend every night. If volleyball alone wasn't enough, the popsicles handed out by a fellow traveler after a match definitely were.
    Even when we were away from the courts it was all the my friend and I were talked about—recapping every play, breaking down the best rallies, and planning what we wanted to improve for the next night's matches. The sport never gets old. The people I've met from it are some of the best, and my willingness to just try it in the first place? That's one decision I'll never regret. Playing in Cairns might have been once-in-a-lifetime, but volleyball is a sport I'll play again and again. The emotions it bring me—that sense of thrill, connection, and pure, unfiltered joy—those are what make my life feel movie-worthy.

    Maybe that's the point. Not every day will look like a highlight reel. Not every moment will be a sky-high adventure, or a scene set against an exotic backdrop. But what if the feeling could stay the same? 

    The rush of trying something new. The excitement of living outside of the box. The closeness of shared experiences with people around me. Maybe living like I'm in a movie isn't about doing extraordinary things—it's about making the ordinary feel extraordinary.