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Thursday, May 14, 2015

Where These Roads Lead

I finally did it--I took a dozen boxes of junk and got rid of it all. Okay, that's not entirely true. There are a couple of boxes left, but it is so much better than it was before. I feel relieved. I didn't need any of that stuff, and I know that it will still have another life with someone else that will enjoy it, whether it was clothes, books or anything else I seemed to be holding on to for no reason.

With me the celebration is usually very short, and this little victory was no different. I got rid of all my stuff for a specific reason--I wanted to leave where I am and end up somewhere else. As soon as the boxes were out of the garage, I clearly expected a miracle to occur. There was nothing. I'm not surprised. I constantly look for answers and never find them. I only look and find the avenues that I know aren't right for me. At least that's a start.

This week hasn't been kind to any plans I may have formulated. I lost a freelance job I thought was going to be long term, I didn't win a grant I thought I had a real shot at winning and all I'm left with are daydreams. I have reached a point where it seems the only answer is to just walk out the door. There's no thinking or planning involved. I just go. People do it all the time and seem to find a way to create something out of nothing. I usually end up with more of nothing, if that's possible.

Photo: Pixabay.com

There's a deep pit of desire inside that just wants to take me everywhere. Even my usual plans aren't satisfying dreams anymore. I don't just want a city at my disposal, I want the whole world now. I want to see every inch of it. I think this case of wanderlust is so bad because summer is right around the corner. I tell myself every year this will be my golden summer, the summer of all summers, the one I never forget. I always end up in the same places, doing the same things and not enjoying any of it.

The cure? Become a travel writer. I have plenty of experience writing travel copy for amazing destinations around the world--though all of this work is anonymously floating around the Internet and has no hint of the unique voice I could have given it had I really experienced it.

My rational side has already thoroughly vetted this career option. Most travel writers cannot become travel writers without a long history of, you know... traveling. The current market for travel writers has also become so overcrowded that even if you get a gig or two, it only pays a fraction of what it used to, which is never enough to cover the travel expenses you accumulate trying to get inspired in the first place.

I may have cleaned out the garage, but there's still a lot of thoughts and fears cluttering my mind. Progress is still appearing as a tiny dash on a long, winding road.

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