I did it. Fifteen minutes ago. I submitted my resignation. I have no job lined up. I have no great plan. I have no lottery winnings or large nest egg to live on. In fact, I believe that I could make it for three months without any income if I had to. Yet, I am not worried. I am stepping out on that limb, not worrying about what’s below.
The coming weeks will be busy, as I transition out of this office. Each day, I will leave with a load of books and papers that belong to me. In the end, there shouldn’t be much left. I have already cleared the computer of my files, and I now use a flash drive. Also, I will begin to make living and work arrangements.
If you have read this blog for any length of time, you may know that I have lived in a restaurant and in my car. Oh, yeah. Let me tell you, in case you have wondered. First of all, I don’t advise using your vehicle as boudoir. However, some vehicles serve this function in passable fashion. Generally, my Jeep Cherokee works well as a place to crash. However, when the back seats are folded forward and half of the cargo space is filled with a keyboard, PA system, amps, clothing, books, journals, and the detritus of the typical nomadic pack rat, well… there isn’t much room left to sleep. It’s all in how you pack, though. I am a master at that.
Once you have determined that you are sleeping in the vehicle, though, you need to concern yourself with where you are going to park said vehicle. I have found that Wal-Mart Supercenter parking lots are safest, provide sufficient lighting to allow one to read without draining the car’s battery, and are close to sufficient indoor plumbing and supplies if such are needed. As an added bonus, there are all sorts of fun to be had in the parking lot in the wee hours of the morning: People watching; Noticing how many others are sleeping in their cars; Freaking people out when they see you arise from the back of the car… alone. When sleeping in your car, though, (again, I do not advise such sleeping habits) you must be aware of safety concerns. If you are a nervous person, a worrier, or otherwise disposed to frantic bouts of fear at just the mere thought of someone standing outside your house… none of this is for you.
In more rural areas, I find a logging road and pull down into the woods. I like that best. Granted, there are other things to fear there, and if one is truly and wholly unfamiliar with the area, well… who’s to say what danger lurks beyond the shadows? I usually create an illusion, though - one that probably scares others as much as they would scare me if they only knew.
What now? Good question. I am up for a road trip. Anyone want to strike a deal? Tomorrow is in our hands, soft, pliable clay. I am plopping it on the wheel. Everything else has been spinning, spinning, spinning. I stepped off that dizzying ride. I am now a work in progress, and I have my own potter’s wheel as well. My hands are unsure. My experience is but a resource. My plans are in the pen which is perched above a blank sheet of paper. But my vision is golden.
