So there’s a rumour going around that I’m moving to Nashville. I’ve really got to get on my publicity people to keep that shit under wraps. I swear there’s been a leak in my organization since the beginning and someone is so getting fired over this. Oh what? I can’t fire myself? Fuck.
Have I lost my mind? Probably. But you know what I hate? The idea that I might become someone indistinguishable from the masses of corporate employees who eek out tiny bits of happiness on weekend in their gardens and little hobbies. There’s nothing wrong with that life, it’s just more concerned with safety and security and less concerned with living and seeing and doing. People need security, it’s true, but for me the price for middle class security is too high. So I’m off into the great fucking unknown to do ridiculously impractical things, hopefully for money. And you you know, temp and be desperately poor and all that good stuff. Given a choice between putting on a starched, button-up shirt and heels and slogging my way through stacks of data, doing work 1000 degrees removed from what people need to actually survive, for the next 30 years or putting on a tank top and boots and watching a country band play a small club and worrying about where my next meal is coming from, I’ll choose the latter, thanks.
Got questions? I don’t have answers. Not really. Am I going to be closer in to the land of fake cowboys with hats and guitars? Do I think redneck zen really exists? Why would anyone move to the American south anyway? Yeah, what? I don’t know. But continuous rain, endless emo bands, and pretentious holier-than-thou hipsters in every direction isn’t so great, you know. And how did this become some pretentious exposition on my motivations? Ugh, save me from myself.
Headlong dive, straight into the unknown. If you aren’t a bit jealous then I envy you your life a little. I’m as excited as a person could fucking ever be, except the inbetween, the current limbo, of planning details and like getting moved which is hideous and painful and akin to a too slow rip of to too stuck band-aid. I got projects, plans, things to set in motion. I’mna change the whole fucking world, damn it, even if I only become so self-centered that life change looks like world change from a limited internal view. But you know, I might change the world too, wait and see. Stay tuned, if it isn’t full out soap opera drama, it might be a good as one of those little Chick tract religious pamphlets teaching you a lesson on what not to do. No matter what it’ll be interesting, right?