We sail tonight for Singapore

When you hear that steeple bell, you must say goodbye to me.

The convoluted way my brain works awes me sometimes. I mean, getting from point A to point B really shouldn't involve 14 steps, half of them over lava and between crumbling mountains. I want to be able to burrow inside my brain, sit down, and have a coherent conversation with it someday. I'd ask it "Why, brain? Why can't we just go from point A to point B? They're only 10 miles apart. There was no need go 3000 miles out of our way, twice, just to get to where we want to be."

In related news, I'll be taking the train across the country again, to Pennsylvania, in a month. I'm going to be housesitting a farm for a week. With pigs (amongst other farm animals). In the middle of the hottest time of year. In a 200 year old house with no air conditioning. But with an awesome crick nearby, with a bad ass swimming hole, apparently.

AHHHHHH!!! PIGS!!! I am disproportionately excited.

A couple of months after that, I'll be in Tucson Arizona, housesitting for a wealthy older couple who have 6 indoor cats for a month. Again, in the desert during the hottest time of the year. But in a beautiful, beautiful part of the world.

It's like my brain believes that change can't be easy. If we're going to take these steps, we are by god going to suffer for them.

After Tucson, I'm hoping to keep driving down to Oaxaca. Stay in a $300 a month apartment in the middle of an old city for a couple months. Then back up to Tucson for 6 weeks, housesitting again.

These are the steps toward my freedom. I'm not asking anyone this time, I'm just doing it. I've made arrangements so that my location need never be an issue for work. My freedom involves saving a shitton of money by housesitting and paying almost nothing for rent for at least a year. It involves putting everything I can't bear to part with into storage for a year, and living with very, very little. It involves taking very good care of my car, something that doesn't come naturally to me...

My happiness has always, I think, been comprised of movement. It doesn't have to be forward, but the potential for constant movement has to be there for me to be happy. Ironically (I've had allergy medicine, and and am completely incapable of determining if that's a correct use of irony, so don't hate), I long for stability, and feel guilty and ashamed of my need for movement.
Yeah. Fuck you, brain.

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