Okay, so it's been over two weeks since my last blog entry, and quite a lot has happened in that stretch of time. First, I eulogized my stepfather, and I was honored to do so. Second, I lost my job at Ohio Citizen Action. Not a huge deal, I'm not going to die without it, but I miss it; it was fun, it was good exercise, I liked my coworkers, and it was a cause I believe in. (Editor's Note: please write your Reps and Senators and ask them to cosponsor HR. 1310 and S. 696)
Basically, I just wasn't bringing home the bacon, and non-profs are all about the money. I knew that going in. But, the same day, I moved into my new office at Longworth Hall. A friend of mine has a large office suite, and gave me a room that had recently been vacated when the old occupant quit his business. Yep, that's right: I'm open for business. For the foreseeable future, I am pursuing my freelance design work for a living, with my other job as a supplement.
Wednesday was my first full day in my new office, or at least I though it was going to be. I showed up to find my office trashed, and a threatening note left by the old occupant of said office. Apparently, he decided he unquit, and wanted his old office back. And since he's a brother in the family that owns the building, he gets what he wants. All he has to do is act like a child, and he's really good at that, especially for a 40-some year old man.
So, I was forced to pack up and move into a large room down the hall with several of my friend's employees; so, no real privacy, no window, no hardwood floors.
Which brings me to my point: when am I allowed to snap? When do I get to go off? Everyone else gets to trash someone else's office because they can't stick to their decisions. Everyone else gets to behave irrationally, and is coddled and bailed out because of it. Everyone else gets to develop a chemical dependency, and we all have to ignore it.
When's my time? How much weight do I have to bear before I'm allowed to break? I've always been expected to be better than everyone else. "You're smarter than all your classmates," I was told, in the same breath as a scolding for "acting smart." I'm sick of this "higher standard" bullshit, and it is bullshit. There's no other word that quite gets it across.
I think it's time for me to do something stupid. I think it's time for me to go against my better judgement, and do something because it feels right at the moment, damn the torpedoes, to hell with the consequences.
I realized last week that, if a couple of things go right over the next couple of months, I will be able to cut ties with every responsibility I have that keeps me here. My thought for what to do with such a unique situation? Go to Europe. Pack a backpack, grab a guitar, fly standby, and wander around Europe for an indeterminate amount of time. I know a few people there, and they have hostels and other places to stay. And of course, during warmer months, I could always sleep outdoors, under bridges, etc.
This, of course, goes against everything I've ever been about, but maybe that's the point.
I also decided that, likely next week, I'm going backpacking overnight in Red River Gorge, by myself. I need to get my head straight.
My mother couldn't handle that, and all but forbade me from going. What'll she do when I leave the continent?
I don't know what my future holds, but for the first time in my life, I feel like I have options. I can do whatever I want, when I want.
So I guess I'm really starting my new life, cobbled together out of parts of the person I used to be and whatever parts anyone else can spare. I'm actually doing things I never would have done before. I don't know if I'm doing them because I want to, because I need to, because someone talked me into doing them, or if it's just to prove to myself that things have changed. Maybe a little bit of everything. I see echoes of my former self, but he's gone now. As soon as I get to know my new self, I'll introduce him around.
Put down your things and rest awhile,
You know we've both nowhere to go.
Yeah, daddy had to crash,
He was always halfway there, you know.
And no, I don't pretend there's any more of that,
They say one day, you'll look up and laugh and hear the same sad echo.
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