How to Live

"I get my energy
from my inner g" -Lupe Fiasco

I'm done with college. So if I don't get the positions I wanted in DC or Philly, what's stopping me from just packing a bag and going to DR or Haiti.... or do something fucking crazy? I have the privilege of being American, my passport gets me anywhere. This is my off year anyway and there's not enough fire in Maine to keep me.

Be like my friend, take odd jobs and hitchhike. Live poor. As romanticized as it is, I wonder if I can do it. What is stopping me from learning Haitian Creole and being with beautiful people, the people of the world, who are humbled to be alive, not the people who think they are above others.... that's what the corporate world and resumes and desk jobs do to a person.... I'm still the biggest hippie in the world at heart.

The parents are so proud. They think I can market my skills and do this and that. Never have to work the kind of jobs they do.... and I probably never will. They don't realize how easy college is, all we do is go to class, take tests, write papers, hook up, drink and compete about all of the above.
At this moment, all I want to do (besides be loved) is run a marathon. I don't even want to shop or buy nice shoes or play dress up.

The last few years have really pushed me out of a shell. I'm more outgoing than I think. I'm more feisty than I think. I'm more opinionated and willing to show people than I think. I'm more in your face but it's not even 25 percent out.

Trying to find myself a real job and attempting to be in a normal, mature relationship would probably be nice... and right. It's that post-graduation angst of thinking I'll always have this home-base but I need to go. Stability freaks me out. But I don't know if I want to mess with assholes for a few more years.... complain about politics for a few more years... be a clueless cultural anthropologist for a few more years... be around the passion and the realness of youth and of people of color... I'm sitting back and thinking, if I magically get myself a 40,000, 50,000, god forbid 60,000 dollar job somewhere, where the world tells me I'm accomplished, will I feel accomplished?

But for the summer, I'm in Portland. Well, at least my body is. But if I don't get what I want in Philly or DC.... I may have to randomly pack my bags and go.