Today I am doing the anticipatory happy dance. I got a job interview, and I may very soon be hocking expensive retail in the form of denim, sparkly scarves, and all things "privileged white girl". Looks like I may very well be within days of finally slaying the job-hunt dragon after all!
I went on a walk with a young, homeless by choice man named Aaron in Ashland a few months back. He showed me which plants make your stomach feel better, which ones make your teeth stronger and whiter than any fluoride toothpaste would, which yellow weed tastes strikingly like broccoli, and he told me he'd someday prove to people that he didn't need any money to live. Let alone to be happy.
I suppose this was already in the back of my mind somewhere, (but that's how everything is. We've got everything we need and life is a quest to make it relevant) he's right. With money, comes stuff you have to pay for. Not only fiscally, but also emotionally and mentally and spiritually. You've been taxed.
I really hate that my greatest recognizable fear these days is that I will run out of money. I'm scared of giving up. Throwing in the towel and going home after almost six months will look very much like failure on the surface if it happens. But I'm convinced it won't. I got this. This, and a future as environmental progress pioneer, then a vagrant painter/ musician, then somebody who learned something from it all. And maybe somewhere along the way, I can be somebody who's got too much love for the beauty in a changing landscape that there's no room for tangible things.
I will give the world a little more air to breathe, a little more green to look at, then I'm going all Chris McCandless on this shit and living out of a backpack. Just call me Alexander Supertramp. Except he died in a bus in Alaska, which doesn't make me super jazzed to think about. I'm going to live on an orchard overlooking the Ireland coastline instead I think.
Also, go to the library. Libraries are pure good.
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