a slight bit of me wants to be homeless

I realize that being homeless isn't necessarily something anyone wants. No one says when they're five years old that they want to be homeless when they grow up. I also realize that it's not seen as a good thing in our society (or most societies as homes provide an innate sense of comfort). That being said I do believe there are some people who prefer that lifestyle over what the masses consider to be a more civilized way of living and I think I finally understand why. I've been feeling extraordinarily restless lately. This is a feeling I've become accustomed to since I typically feel most uncomfortable when there isn't enough change. I've combatted this in the past with piercing my ears six times, streaking my hair with pink dye several times, dying it bright red once (I know, I'm real crazy), moving to different cities, buying new clothes, going on trips, jumping off tall rock formations, taking up a new hobby, etc., etc., etc.

This time around it's different. One, I'm overall quite satisfied, actually truly happy with my life. I've submitted one million applications to PhD programs so in all likelihood there's a new adventure on the horizon, there's also an exciting (although not guaranteed) potential job opportunity for the summer, I've gotten back into writing simply for the enjoyment of it, and I've even met a super cool dude I love spending time with. So really I shouldn't feel any sense of restlessness but I do. After much contemplation I know it's due to the nine to fiveness that has been my job for the past two years. I'm not very good at nine to five. I suck at going to the same places and seeing the same people over and over for any extended period of time. Really, I just suck at it if it's mandated because I don't mind seeing my roommates or other friends over and over. But the fact that I HAVE to be at work makes me claustrophobic. This might have something to do with the fact that I really dislike being told what to do probably more than anything (except maybe dirty teeth). I'm not one of those loud rebels who boycotts and fights against anything mainstream just to fill the space in their lives but nevertheless, I quietly try to figure out how I can escape that fate. This might stem from when I learned to read in first grade and from there on no longer depended on my parents to teach me academic knowledge.

Regardless of where it comes from I recently developed some slight envy for those homeless people who seem to relish in the fact that they don't have to answer to anyone, anytime for anything. Now, I say this with a sidenote in that I probably don't actually want to be homeless. I guess essentially what I want is the same freedom but by the opposite means, aka lotsa money. I want days where if I want to go to the park from sun up to sun down and write meaningless social diatribes and really awful poetry I can. I want nights where if I want to consume alcohol until the sun comes up and then fall asleep knowing I don't have to get up until the next night should I so choose to I can. I want weeks where if I want to explore ancient Mayan ruins and the pyramids rather than read about them in the encyclopedia I can. I want a happily ever after where I can own a popcorn shop and a bookstore and not worry about whether or not people get their popcorny fingers all over the books' pages because I can afford not to. And not have a single soul tell me what to do (They can ask me all they want. When people ask nice enough I'm typically putty in their hands.).

Restlessness to me equals a lack of freedom. And I recognize that I'm actually pretty lucky in terms of the freedom and flexibility my current job gives me. I typically work 10am-6pm but could come in later or earlier and leave later or earlier depending on what I need to do that day outside of work. We have decent vacation and sick time (based on U.S. standards). If we have to schedule a dentist appointment in the middle of the afternoon we can as long as we get our work done (and don't mind vague disapprovement from supervisors who take advantage of this far more than I ever would). But it still doesn't feel like enough. Peeps are still telling me what to do. 'Course this feeling of restlessness could be an overall sign that this career path I've spent so much time on isn't the right one for me, something I've been considering an awful lot lately as well. S'pose it might be a sign to cut my losses and move on when chosen homelessness almost seems like an appealing option.



Might have to pitch a tent