The Next Bold Move – Me Vs. The World

I realized after my last few posts that I haven’t really updated where I am and what I’m doing these days. I got an email from a family friend asking what side of the equator I’m on? This made me laugh until I realized it’s kind of a legitimate question.

I’m currently in Santa Maria, California. I’m interviewing a man who retired for the second time after getting by an IED in Iraq as a government contractor a year ago. He just turned 70. His family asked me to record his life before the stories are forgotten. I think I am almost done with the interviewing portion of this project. After 70 years on this Earth he has some good stories. I want to make sure I get them down correctly.

I have been here a week and feel it’s time to get on the road again. I plan on heading to San Fran tomorrow. I want to see Craig Mullaney read at the Marine Memorial Hotel. Then I am going to stay in a hostel for a couple reasons. One, I really want to see what hostels in the states are like and who stays there. It’s $23 – $30 / night. Second, I need my space. I have been staying with people here and there and I really just want some time and space to myself for a change. Lastly, I miss the temporariness of a hostel. I miss the transitory nature of everyone there. I miss traveling around travelers. I miss being alone in a city where I don’t belong.

From there I might go see the Redwoods. Why not? I have also thought about heading up to Washington State to visit some friends. I have an appointment with TMO (Traffic Management Office) in San Diego in the middle of June. I am having the Marine Corps ship what I have left in storage to my parents. It’s only furniture, my piano, few boxes of uniforms and military memorabilia for them to store or use as they see fit. I have a few things in my car, but everything else was sold or donated before leaving San Diego. I carry with me my stories, my experiences, my strengths and my weaknesses. Really, what else can you own in this world?

I will probably follow my stuff. I haven’t been ‘home’ in a long time. I fear this homecoming. I’m not sure why other than I have no reason to stay, which consequently means I have no reason to leave. I feel defeated coming home now. I have nothing to show for myself. Things haven’t turned out like I expected them to, even though I didn’t have any expectations when I left. I’m scared. Going home will force me to face myself. Going home will force me to face the family that has moved on without me. I am just a guest now. Just a visitor to a place that used to be home. I don’t have a home anymore. It’s time. It’s time to deal with all of this.

So, where am I going? Who knows? My friend jokes that she is waiting to get a call that I started driving and ended up in either Canada or Mexico. Maybe. I have a little over a month to spend on this coast. I plan on driving through the Grand Canyon on my way back to Indiana. See what other random places I find to visit on my way. I have to be in Chicago in mid-July to meet up with a friend and travel to Argentina. I’m in a wedding in August. Those are the only real commitments I have. I want to drive out to the East Coast after the wedding. My plan is to drive wherever the road may lead.

I guess I shouldn’t be surprised when people ask what country am I in? Where am I staying? I shouldn’t get upset when my Mom asks what I’m eating – or if I’m eating. I keep waiting for someone to ask me what I’m doing. You know what I’m really doing. What the long-term plan is. I suppose everyone who knows me knows there is no need for a long-term plan. Plans don’t work out that’s why I don’t make them. Those who love me know if they ask too many questions they are likely to start a fire. I’ll get scared or bored or anxious and next thing they know I’ve sold my car and I’m moving to Africa to save the elephants and rhinos.

I don’t see myself like this. I’m not as free as I’d like to be. Not as flighty as I pretend to be. I worry. I worry about what is next. What I’m going to do after this month. After next month. In a year. My current goal is to not have a permanent address for an entire year. That started in January. I’m in month 5 already. What happens after that? And after that? And after that?

Truth is as much as I love living on a whim I still look for some sort of meaning. Some sort of truth behind it all. Something to hold onto for the after the after the after. I know it is a futile search; like shining a terd, as Captain Carter used to say about field daying our rooms in Quantico. Yet, I still wonder, explore, dream, search. I still hold my breath and make a wish when I see a shooting star. I still believe I’m going to find it die trying. I worry that I won’t. I worry that I’ll grow old and spend my last bit of time telling my stories to some young, aspiring writer as she passes through. A drifter who will think “I’ll find it. I’ll find it for both of us. Whatever it is we’re looking for. I’ll be the one.”

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