I’ve been taken away from blog-writing as much as I’d like to, or planned to, partly because the computer I sit at the most–the one at my job– is now being blocked from visiting any sites that are blog-related. When that scary page with a big X shows up on my screen, I am reminded that I officially work for The Man. Not that I would have time to post at work; life is bustling in the office, and my little cubicle, with the computer-printed art hanging by push pins and the plants I can’t keep alive, is like my little home away from home. And, while I’m incredibly proud of the rate at which I’m digging myself out of debt, and while I like much of my job, I’m already feeling stuck on a conventional path that I had never planned on following.
Which is why reading stories like this one, “Sailing Away from the American Dream”, lift me up a little bit. Not because I’d like to go sailing around the world as my backup plan, but just because I live in an age when to do such a thing is… considerable. My boyfriend and I tease out ideas of stealing away to Brazil or Portugal (the countries of his origin) for a spell. There’s nothing like months at a time in a cold New York to make a person want to get the hell out of here. And before we know it, we’ll have kids, and our already crammed schedules will feel airtight, and….
I’ve been okay with not making my career as an artist; I don’t have a philosophical problem with it, and I don’t feel like I’ve lost out. But one thing that working for The Man makes you feel like you could lose is your sense of adventure. At the moment I find adventure in other people’s adventures, like the author of the above story. But I can see myself 10 years from now, with a couple of small kids, and wanting to make sure they don’t lose their sense of adventure either. And heading for the sea.