The past couple weeks I’ve actually been considering reintegration to a “regular life.” You see, unlike many other gypsies and dirtbags I’m trying to hold down a full time job. On top of that it’s not a restaurant a couple miles off the trailhead and it’s not an online sales and / or writing gig. After being at this for over two months, I’ve at least figured out how to survive; so actually
living this lifestyle is not the issue. The issue is that there is more. There is always more.
On the one hand…
My job requires me to travel a lot. Public wifi is great for cruising social media and watching climbing videos while sipping coffee. However, it’s quite a hassle to have to pack up all your belongings sloppily strewn in a booth at a fast food joint, do you business in the bathroom, return to your seat, set up everything again, then finally get back where you left off. Compare that to the 30 seconds it takes to traverse your living room to the hallway, relieve yourself, and return to the cockpit at your desk.
So, I was actually looking at apartments in the areas that I work. Rent was about what I’d expected, but I quickly realized that they cost way too much. Now, the price was reasonable for what you got, but I didn’t need or want most of what they were offering. I don’t suspect many landlords would be willing to cut rent in half if I told them all I needed was a toilet, shower, and wifi; no kitchen, bed / futon, living space, shelves, or refrigerator required. I guess I’ll leave that issue tabled for now.
On the other hand…
I suspect that most dirtbags choose to go down the road we find ourselves on to avoid the
9 to 5 grind, the hour plus commutes, neckties and ass kissing, and trivial yet oppressing bureaucracies of
the modern (business) world.In other words, they hate their job and probably their life and have set out in search of a new one. Perhaps they find what they’re looking for on the road or it is the seeking that fulfills them.
I truly love my job and can’t imagine doing anything else. At the same time though I’m caught in a 22. The “
dream” I’ve sold and given so much to chase down, the dream of climbing – read explore yourself physical and mental limits in natural expression – where and whenever you want to. Yet the profession I feel called to and captivated by is at least a constricting as the corporate world, if not more. The only difference is a question of will and desire. Where you want to be. Where you find yourself. What you’re with and without. Where you’re going and what will it take to get there, or what you will give to stay.
Now here I go again I see the crystal vision
I keep my visions to myself.
It's only me who wants to wrap around your dreams
and have you any dreams you'd like to sell.
Dreams of loneliness like a heartbeat drives you mad
in the stillness of remembering what you had
and what you lost
and what you had
and what you lost...
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