This blog is a "play project". The "play project" is an exercise from the book "Be a Free Range Human: Escape the 9-5, Create a Life You Love, and Still Pay the Bills". The play project, in a nutshell, is to test out something
that you might want to do, but with the idea of jumping in and then paying
attention to what says yes, and what says no--it is designed to remove the
pressure--at least that is how I understand it. It's supposed to take 3 days to
develop the project, but it has taken me two weeks to come up with something that
rang true for me.
I chose a blog as a play project because it is an element of a big dream of mine to become a full-time nomad, traveling solo in an RV to experience the wonders of nature in the US and sharing that experience (the good, bad and embarrassing) with people through a blog.
Hobo Desires
I have wanted to be a hobo since I was a child. The idea of wandering drew me in and I really don't know how I learned about hobos, I just knew I wanted to be one. I must have also known that it wasn't an acceptable career because I didn't assert to people that is what I wanted. I don't remember asserting that I wanted to "be" anything when I grew up until 5th grade, but wanting to be a hobo is the first, and only, desire I remember before then.
The dream has morphed. It began with making believe I was a traveler on the railroad tracks behind my apartment building with my little pink suitcase. It resurfaced in high school as touring the US with my best friend in a VW bus, working along the way to pay for gas, food and fun; but again, there were no classes on how to embark on a dream like that--only classes on getting a job--so I joined the Navy instead. At thirty I sold a woman a Jeep to tow behind her Class A motorhome as she hit the road solo and I vowed I would do that. Well, I didn't intend to be solo, but I knew I would retire early and travel in an RV (not retiring). I admired her even though she was kind of bitchy (but I'm probably perceived that way too sometimes--not probably--for sure I am), and she is one of a handful of strangers that pop up in my mind when I need to draw on some outer strength. She was probably the same age I am now.
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| Colorado River in Utah |
Over a number of years and series of events (including contemplating the meaning of life while staring at a towering red canyon wall on the Colorado River during a 4-day rafting trip, and a stint of wanting to walk the entire PCT -- pre Wild publication) I ended up here--within a year of being a full-time RVer (fingers crossed).
I believe I was born to be a nomad; and perhaps a writer.
I am already a writer--a technical writer, but a writer. I have hundreds of published articles of my own, well, about 40 articles, but published in hundreds of outlets--trade outlets. However, when I sit down to write anything "fun" (blog, screenplay, book, travel article) I find any and every reason to get away from this computer. It takes so much effort to write. I am editing before I get two words on the page, so nothing ever gets finished. If I didn't write for a living, I would be classified as a thinker not a writer. I have GREAT ideas!
But then there is that thing of "fun" writing being stressful. I think I know why. Number one is that I haven't developed my "fun" voice. It is buried beneath corporate learning, journalistic writing and years of absorbed advice on how to act or not to act and what not to say and what to say. I think if I can break past those barriers, it will become fun again--like it used to be. It used to be an outlet.
The critic is even louder than the corporate voice. The critic says, "you can't. You can't be honest on a blog because that will make you vulnerable; and, what are you an expert at anyway?" It also says, "if you say too much, that could make it hard to transition back into the 'real world' if all of this doesn't work out; and, you are not eloquent."
Sprinkled among the series of events that has led me to this particular place is an ever present message from the Universe to be authentic--to own who I am, warts and all, including non-eloquence. I've heard a number of people attribute their success to being true to themselves, and I've seen proof that being true to yourself works. I am legitimately in awe when people own their "less than pretty" qualities. Sometimes when my daughter speaks (or writes), I gasp aloud--not because what she says is wrong, but because I can't believe she just admitted that aloud to a general audience (whether it is family or her readers). But, the world does not collapse when she does.
A friend from college just started a blog,
Boomer Takes On Brooklyn. We spoke about it over the phone a few times and then she just jumped in. She has already has two posts!!! and I am still editing this one--two weeks later--WTF? I think she is an eloquent writer--she made Brooklyn sound like Main Street USA. My
daughter is a wordsmith and a poet. She finds the most beautifully colorful ways to describe something. She's honest, funny, racy and still honing her talent at USC.
I know that I have something to offer. In small, safe, groups I have no problem telling you about the heinous mistakes I've made in life or fears that can paralyze me for days, or the brave things I've done like driving a 25 foot rental truck from Colorado to Wisconsin towing a car behind it, just so you have the courage to face your demons and push yourself to take risks. Maybe I should mention that I had never been to Wisconsin, didn't have a job or a place to live, and that isn't one of the heinous mistakes I've made. But revealing my authentic self to the World Wide Web (especially with Internet trolls), that's scary.
This blog will be about adventures of finding the right trailer and making it my own (did I mention I'm a DIYer?), the good and bad parts of doing it solo, the places I have been and will go and people I meet. In writing about these life adventures, I will attempt to let my inner freak fly and reveal my authentic self; so bear with me as get comfortable with my authentic self through chasing my dreams.
