This is a rant, this is only a rant

5 Apr


Bitterness is tricky.  Here I am, bitter as fuck, wanting to express my feelings of rage and envy because for reasons both beyond and within my control I find myself not NEARLY as nomadic and spontaneous as my heart desires.  There are so many reasons for this stagnation. Work and family being the primary causes for these roots that have sprouted from my feet.  For one, my job is as inflexible as a job can be and I do not make nearly enough to create a travel war chest capable of sustaining an epic trip and the unemployment that would follow.  I also, long ago made a promise to mommy and daddy that I would buy them a condo before I disappeared into the landscape.  These are realities, but then again, are there not people who throw these types of excuses aside and just take off, debts be damned?  Sure there are, and I read their blogs all the time, grinding my teeth in shame and envy.

There are oh so many blogs involving people who have traveled all around the globe and done the things we, working slobs, only daydream about in our sickly cubicles.  They seize life by the gooch and tell the world exactly how they did it.  They never let anything stop them, they are fearless and they are free.  What did they do that I didn’t?  I don’t feel like a tremendous pussy and yet, I have never ridden an elephant across a crowded Indian market place or hung precariously off the ledge of some dazzling feature in a country so remote it would take the average man 10 minutes to find it on Wikipedia.  Instead, I am in my office, hammering away at the keyboard, for no reason other than to occupy time and convince myself I didn’t obliterate every braincell in my skull on industrial HVAC equipment.  The easiest answer–for me to accept–is that they came from money and therefor never knew what it was like to live paycheck to paycheck and to have fear of unemployment.  But, honestly, I know this argument is flimsy.  Mainly because I have met many globetrotters who are not simply spending mom and dad’s money, but rather living out a very complex and deliberate plan of couch surfing and WWOOFing.  It would be so very nice to assume these privileged vagrants were unleashed trust-fund children, rubbing their lifestyles in the faces of those who must work to survive.  However, I just cannot accept this as fact, because it isn’t.

So what is holding me back?  Fear, primarily.  Not a fear of a potential destination or its inhabitants or the plane ride over but a fear of letting down my family.  I have a fear of being a burden on the minds of those who care about me.  I realize that no matter how many times I wrote home telling those who cared that I was healthy and happy, they would live in perpetual worry.  They would wonder why I found their homes and company so unbearable as to forcing me to flee and what I would do with myself once this phase ended.  Their hearts would sink when the thought of grandchildren appears and evaporates in their minds.  Could I be happy living in a makeshift lean-to beside whatever train station I wandered into? Absolutely,  but no one who dedicated time, love and money into my upbringing would be able to share that happiness.  My brother would wonder how I could just up and leave my niece, my mother would wonder how I could leave her and my father would despair that I would end up as fucked up as his younger brother who went from edgy to eccentric to bat shit fucking insane over the course of his life and now lives in solitude, miserable…So it seems it is merely expectations holding me back?  No that can’t be either.

There are those who travel the world and see amazing sights without completely blowing off their roots.  There must be a happy middle ground somewhere in this discussion.  And, of course there is.  But, to reside in this happy middle-ground you must have the finances.  If one wishes to maintain a physical connection with their family, not completely fuck over any opportunity at retirement and cultivate a financially stable future all while doing the adventurous bullshit that we all want to do, you must either be rich or incredibly clever.  The latter of which being the most common but also the most difficult,  especially when you (me) happen to have no real marketable talent whatsoever. Ahh, well, is this not what the internet is for?  To live vicariously through those who have figured out how to live the life you want to live better than you ever could?

Enough complaining, I get to travel here and there (domestically)…I do not go to bed hungry and I do not shiver at night…

Keep up the crazy travel blogs, mi amigos, I both love and loathe them.


One Response to “This is a rant, this is only a rant”

  1. writingsofamrs April 5, 2013 at 7:56 pm #

    Rant away!

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