Day 005

It crosses my mind on a regular basis to run away. I know it's probably not the healthiest coping mechanism, but there it is. When people are feeling wistful, they say I have wanderlust. When people are upset with me, they say I'm running away. I often tell myself that if shit just fell apart (again), I'd drop everything, go somewhere completely new, and start over. Start myself over. One place I'd run away to would be some coastal village in Ireland. I could also go for a coastal village in Maine. Don't ask why, since I think overall I fare better in big cities, but the pull of coastal villages is strong in me. As long as they have internet, anyway. There is something incredibly romantic and soothing about living by the sea. I really like the ocean, but if I ever say that to anyone, they assume I like tropical beaches and suntans and palm trees and shit, which is not the case. "The sea" is so much more whimsical sounding, and fits what I like about it much better. I also want to live in a community where people actually know me, and come over to hang out, and have a communal place to meet up at. That can be had in cities, too, of course. Just without all the pressures of a city, I guess. And Ireland, with its intense greens and blacks, the devastatingly beautiful cliffs, the lilting accents and lovely folklore, who wouldn't want to live there? I've never been there, and don't really know anything about it. Maybe Ardmore, or Doolin. I'll have to look into it. Too bad Wikipedia doesn't tell me if there's decent internet in those places. I am made for living in jeans, tall boots, and thick sweaters. I am made for holding hot mugs with both hands and sitting by a fire. I am made for windswept hair and rosy cheeks, for parties that aren't of the frat variety. I am made for closeness and sentiment and love and fun. Bah! How did I ever get born in Southern California?

Since the global economy is in the shitter, I would need to be able to support myself somehow without actually relying on the local businesses. Writing is the first thing that comes to mind, but then that opens a whole new can of worms that has caused me to lose sleep hundreds of nights. Writing to support myself means having enough discipline to write, write some more, then polish, then polish some more, then keep writing. I like doing it but I have no schedule and never have. When I force myself to, nothing comes out. I get anxious over it all the time.

I wanted to start a "run away" fund for myself but I don't know how any future potential offspring may feel about that if they ever found out about it. I mean, if I had kids my ideas about running away would change. If I included them, I think their dad would yell "kidnapping." If I didn't include them, which I could never do but for the sake of discussion, that'd be abandonment. I think maybe this is one of the big problems I still have to overcome before I have children. I want to travel so much...