In life, it is a rare but sure occurrence that we should one day meet those who we cannot help but hate; those who make us question everything that we once held dear. These people-for lack of a better word- are not the wicked, the scoundrels, or the deceivers. They are something far worse. I’m talking about the planners, and the showrunners of the world. I’m talking about those loathsome few who have everything in order. They know exactly what they want from life, and how to get it. From day one, their path has been clear, straight, and uninhibited by doubt, fear, or apathy. And worst of all, they brag about their superhuman qualities. Surely we can thank them for all of the little life mottos that plague our darkest moments. What’s worse than hearing “When life gives you lemons, make lemonade!” when life just sent you spiraling into chaos? Now, my cynicism here is not entirely genuine. The older I get, the more often I seem to meet these people. They’re set in their career goals, stubborn in their beliefs, and they always seem to know exactly when and how they’ll find true love (and they sure as hell won’t stumble upon it). I listen to their stories with awe, wondering how anyone can possibly have such a view on life; that everything must be planned, that every future action has been foreseen.

This will come as a shock to absolutely no one who knows me, but I am not one of those blessed few. I do not have it together. My life is not a clear path, and it never has been. Growing up, I never, ever had a plan. When anyone asked me what I wanted to do as an adult, I could provide an extensive list of ideas but never one, clear goal. I have wanted to be a biologist, a linguist, a pilot, and a writer, to name a few. At one point, I even thought that I could accomplish all four career goals in one lifetime. I spend my free-time seeking out new skills to obtain, and writing lists of new goals which I inevitably never finish. I am interested in everything. I want to do everything. I am a jack of all trades, but a master of none. This used to bother me. I used to wonder why I couldn’t get it together, why I couldn’t choose a clear, straight path.

I had hoped that I would one day grow out of this phase. The fact is, I’m still that way. I moved across the world on mainly a whim. I try to tell myself that I was interested in the culture, in the history, or in the opportunity of teaching languages, but the honest truth is that I just wanted to do it. I just wanted the change, I just wanted to test myself. I wanted to see what would happen. I didn’t have a plan, didn’t really have a goal. I have since spent a year and half in Hungary, and I haven’t regretted a single moment. I would make that move all over again. My time here has been marked by spontaneity, and a sense of freedom and pure independence that has often led to sheer recklessness. I’ve made mistakes, and I’ve learned how to forgive myself. I have spent the past year and half learning to accept my flaws-and more importantly-to recognize my strengths, and that is all due to my unwavering avoidance of making a plan.

It’s the little adventures that you miss out on when you’re busy planning. That’s a cliché but it’s true. I’ve learned that nestled between my indecisiveness and recklessness, I have a slightly unnerving ability to adapt to change. Sudden change, at that. Whenever my path suddenly curves in a new direction, I just shrug and go with it. Sometimes I can even laugh along with the ride. This may sound like an abhorrent case of aloofness, but I’ve found that it’s a valuable skill. Take for example, my recent trip with my good friend Madeline. If I had planned every detail, if I had ensured that the trip would be one smooth ride, I would have missed out. The trip wouldn’t have been the same.

Our trip to Prague started out with a bang, and with a little adventure at the Budapest train station. As luck would have it, what would have normally been a brief glance at our transit passes suddenly turned into a very long inspection of the ID numbers, both of which did not match the IDs that we happened to be carrying that day. And just like that, we received a hefty fine and a hilarious, 20 minute argument with the BKK KGB. (You try arguing with these guys. Angry, hairy eyebrows all over the place.) Blinded by our unwillingness to give in to the madness, we missed our train. Then, in effort to avoid arguing with more braindead bureaucrats, we decided to hop onto the next train to Prague. Brilliant idea, right? From then onward, we spent the day receiving fine after fine. As the trip went on, we continued to have horrible luck with trains, and with money, and with modern society in general. However (as Madeline would say), these little mishaps -these unplanned shifts in our path – merged together to create a vividly memorable trip, and one of my favorites thus far.

To all of the planners out there, I don’t actually hate you. Just, don’t ask me what I’m planning to do after Hungary, because I have no clue (and I may end up reading off my long list of ideas. No one wants that). To everyone who, like me, passionately loves to live in the present, join the party. You are not alone.