I can’t tell you how weird it was to get off that plane and be home again. I said goodbye to Memphis and then settled in for the most restless flight of my life. I was so impatient to get home. I wanted to keep traveling. It’s a confusing state of mind to want two opposite things at the same time. I am glad to be home, to sleep in a real bed every night. To know when my next shower will be. But now I have to start thinking about all those questions I left here. What do I do next? When do I look for a job? Can I justify continuing to live off my savings?

Because I don’t want to go back to real life, to the 9-5. I’ve been floating around in this creativity hot-air balloon. Alone and untethered. Sitting down to write every morning with a cup of coffee (and another and another) and a happy lab snoozing on my feet. The thing is, I did the backpacking trip I wanted. I did the traveling thing. Shouldn’t I be done now that I did all the things?

But wait! It’s November! You know what that means. I have to finally complete National Novel Writing Month (what were you thinking? I am definitely continuing to shave. I just got back to my shower remember?) now that I have the time. I’ve tried a couple of times but I always ended up petering out (is that how you spell that?) part way through the month. I had too many commitments and not enough time. I even have a story that I want to write. I have no excuses.

And so I get to continue being a shiftless layabout who writes every day despite making absolutely no money doing it. Although I did add a donate page on here so. Hypothetically I could make money if any kind souls who actually have jobs currently care to send coffee money.

You know what’s funny? Look at that picture of me by the cocktail sign in Beale Street. I look happy. That’s because I am happy and I honestly can’t tell you the last time I was able to say that, fingers uncrossed. A while back a friend of mine was practicing painting portraits and asked for selfies. I took a photo and then never sent it to her. I looked at it and I saw so much unhappiness in me. If you want to know what five years at the public defenders will do to an emotionally sensitive young woman, look at this picture:unsent selfie

There have been so many things in my life that have made me unhappy and it wasn’t until this year that I began to realize that I can change those things. For a long time I lived passively, following whatever path appeared. I didn’t choose a college, I just went to the one that was close. I didn’t pick a profession, I just fell into one. Quitting my job was the first time I made a choice and then changed my life to fit. I said I don’t want this to be my life anymore and then I made it so. Suddenly the world opened up before me, endless in it’s possibility. I understood in a way I never had before that you can be the director of your life. You can go out and make shit happen. How did I never see that before?

Here’s to possibility,