Wunderlust and All of the Things

I told myself I would never get caught in the rigmarole of life again. Then I come back here and I allow it to happen just at a slow pace. And now. Well now it is as before. Not as heavy but just as thick. I can say taking a break from life as it was and as it is happens a lot. There isn't a day I don't stop to pinch myself. There isn't an hour where I don't look out into nothing. There isn't a weekend where I go inside myself and disappear. I fantasize about a life where this is not fretted upon. I want to go and never look for approval … not even of myself. Wherever my mind and heart takes me I will just go.

Work

I work about 30 hours a week for and with a friend. It is a small slow paced environment full of rolling change. I am accommodated. I am asked if I'd like to come in later or take a day. I drink coffee. I sometimes have a highball of whiskey. I am left to my own devices. Most of it is beyond me and I've settled with that. Not above me. Beyond me. So I do as I am told and I sometimes dabble in wins. However, most days I am keying away at things I may never understand. This is the work I have longed for. I can sometimes get there in two minutes if I catch all the lights. I am home at the hour when no one else is. I never fight traffic. I sometimes catch the bus. I have grossed just over $1000 after taxes working for almost two months. I have never called my mother in the night. When I made $1200 every two weeks I called my mother often. I was always worried about the wrong things. Now I have learned that trash bags are all the same no matter where you get them from. I have Obamacare and I did keep all of the same doctors I have not seen in over two years. If I get a roommate or side hustle I will be rich. I will be the richest girl alive.

Home

I live in 500 square feet. This is not the smallest place I've lived in. However, this is the most shit I've had in the least amount of space. I have learned to build things to organize it best. I have parted with my most daunting decorative burdens. I have a tiny kitchen with mediocre appliances. I have cooked meals of wonder in this kitchen. Kofte. Tuna Casserole. Pho. A few weeks ago I baked 36 cupcakes and 12 muffins in a night. I seldom vacuum. There just isn't much to it to notice a need. I DIY'd a hamper and spray painted it teal in the courtyard. I don't get much mail because I've been off the grid. I burn incense. I have a bowl of limes and blood oranges. I have people over almost every other day. I lived in 1600 square feet for a year and I never had a single person over. I brought a case of wine from the Carolinas and I feel the need to share. The overall theme to this place is to keep all the doors and windows open like Cleopatra and have parties every night. The air blows in. The glasses clink. The conversation flows. 

Love

I've met who I thought was the one. I've been a Shiksa for a night. I took a call with someone who had pet raccoons. I've been offered to travel with a poly couple for a year. Someone told me this is dating. I haven't done it in long time but something feels off. I don't care for it but I do it because I am bored. On this dating site I've been in 1547 search results just tonight and apparently, allegedly 301 people "like" me. The guy down the street that drives the green truck hits on me 2.3 times a week. Maybe something is in the air. The one texted me till my eyes bled. The other invited me over for Chinese and has since messaged me odd tidbits like "today is the Ides of March, stay away from steak knives". At this rate the idea that I may come back, meet the love of my life and be married and with child in a year … well it has been postponed. I give myself until age 38 when Debi Mazar did it. I really don't love anyone but myself right now. And it shows.

Travel

For the past few months I have told myself over and over this blog is dead. I have said just because I am standing still doesn't mean I don't have the potential to go anywhere. I continually meet people who travel for business or work. I continue to talk up the importance of obtaining a passport. The other day I helped a woman on a motorcycle at Walmart put three bags of stuff into a mini backpack. There will soon be ferries to Cuba. JetBlue has $200 flights to Malaga. My boss throws away his monthly issue of Departures and I snag it. My French is getting so good. But so is my Russian, Politics, Catalan, Boolean, Portuguese and Farsi. I am not putting all my eggs in one basket. Ever. Again.

So I am loosely bound to my new identity and I can take it with me. I can also leave it behind in the right hands. I can come and go. In a book. At a gallery. Through a gaze. On his sofa. In the passenger seat. By the lake. Anytime. Whenever I want. Forever.

To Finally Be

I came "home" last Wednesday. I still cannot believe I am here. A few nights ago I borrowed a can opener. I'm surrounded by boxes of things I no longer fit, like or want. I walked twenty minutes to the grocery store. I took the bus clear across town out of boredom. This has all happened too fast. I have changed. It isn't about the city and the skyline and the lost friends. I personally have changed. I've barely spent any time with myself in this apartment. It was supposed to be a household of two. I may have took this space by myself but I keep inviting others in. 

My potential roommate didn't like it. I figured his complaints were only a few and the place was the only thing I knew of. So I contacted the owner and made my own arrangements sight unseen. I was moving in within the week. I had to do a number of things to rush it. I shipped myself clothes, food. I turned on utilities for a place I'd never stood inside of. I also took the train down at the 11th hour knowing I could lose my deposit if I were late or didn't show. I don't know if it was the nerves or the motion but I threw up three times on the train. I wasn't in an aisle seat so I tormented my seat mate. Even with shipping things I wound up with four bags when I should have had two. I was bogged leaving. I couldn't even sleep for the combination of worry and excitement. I had a hotel room just in case and I barely slept five hours with two beds. 

I am moving slowly. I also have comfort in purging things. I'm no longer sentimental. Frankly, I am no longer attached. I sat a chair out on the curb I've been lugging since I was sixteen. I "accidentally" broke a plate I had deemed ugly but only kept because my mother gave it to me. I have a growing pile of random things I don't even understand how I got in the first place. I can't even go into the amounts of expired food and medicine that was on the verge well before I put them in storage. I also cannot believe how many shoes I have. I recall getting rid of about twenty pairs of shoes and I still feel overwhelmed by whats remaining. I find myself opening something and telling myself "this is nice" when I chose it and have owned it. 

The freedom is the most overwhelming. What do I do with myself? Should I read a book? Should I watch all 3000 HD channels I have? Should I take this new commuter train all the way to Sanford? I'm honestly bored. I'm typically up early, still waking to my mothers pills alarms. Once up I'm not hungry so I find myself analyzing light switches or washing things in the dishwasher because the water is included. I find myself noticing pointedness of spoons. I have a hundred bottles of thickened nail polish. I bought headbands a few days ago just to discover two unused packs of them. I'm scared to check my printer ink head for it may be fused to the insides of my printer. I threw away an entire box of things from my childhood including weird magazine clippings and clothes. 

I've narrowed down the things I cannot live without to one tote in the corner of my closet. I cannot find my trash can. I hate all of these sheets. I had bought Christmas cards in 2012 with "Seasons Greeting" in many languages. So it felt good to sit down and make out these cards to the people I love. I had just enough forever stamps. I messed up my address at least seven times so I'm down quite a few envelopes. I've done laundry twice. I walked to Panera and ogled at all the lines for brunch around here. I've missed a lot. I see now this place isn't so bad. It may even be too much. But it feels good to finally be.

North Carolina

Oh boy. Time to say goodbye. Farewell to chicken and biscuits. No more "hi you"s in the grocery store. Hats off to incoming winter. I can't find my winter scarves anyways. I've been packed since June. Anything acquired or bought just gets packed up too. I have always been prepared to leave, just waiting for my cue. And just like France, as I am leaving, I feel some strange tie. I guess it'll remain because my mother is determined not to leave. At least I'll have a room where things will stay unchanged. There will be evidence of my stay. Maybe when I come back the food and the country greetings welcoming. Maybe it wasn't so bad after all…

Yeah So Orlando

Going home was a last minute decision. It was all so random and poorly planned. There was just an inkling that if I left at that particular moment I could actually get things accomplished. I know now that maybe a great amount of time and money was wasted on the trip. However, hindsight is 20/20.

Two Turns : 85 East to 95 South

This last month has been nothing but road trips to places I don't want to be. It is exhausting - more so than any train trek or airport layover. I am tired yet I continue on. We'll be back on the road in a few more days and this one will be a doozy. We are attempting to put each others lives back on track. We have had a breakthrough of sorts with my mom and I've been offered a temporary job. In my eyes, this is the best things have gotten and will ever get with North Carolina. She can move on. I can live. Vice versa. I wish I could say I'm looking forward to going back to life as it was. Let's just say I'm taking a lot of naps and eating regionalized foods. I will no longer have the luxury. Back to rush hour traffic. Back to monitoring milk and gas prices. Back to forward. 

I am hopeful that this will be my last and final road trip. I don't want to rewind.

International Affair/Homecoming

In Iceland I dealt with the same uncertainty as Paris. I was being led by a travel app that was suffering without internet. The time was changing and there was a complete communication haze. I was also sleeping whenever I had a moment which put me on edge. Basically when I got off that first plane I was to transfer to another. I had no clue where to go and Icelandic was not a language I wished to deal with. When I entered Reykjavik I was dehydrated and irritated. No matter how hard I tried I could never see where I was supposed to go real time. So in my stupor I walked a different direction than everyone else to look for clues. It wasn't until I heard an unfamiliar clicking that I realized what I'd done.