I’m moving across the country this week. Well not completely across. Colorado. So it’s like three quarters across the country. A decent sized move by any metric. I’m excited. And if you dig past the excitement there’s an underlying layer of anxiety but if you dig past that its really just more excitement. I’ve lived in Connecticut since I was 9 and to put it lightly I’ve got cabin fever.
My last semester of college was beyond fun and I knew the whole time that I was getting shoulder surgery about a week after getting my diploma so when people asked what I was doing after graduation, my answer was getting shoulder surgery and being laid out for the next two months. Sometime after the anesthesia wore off I realized that I probably should figure out a way to make some money. Besides the very clear fact that I had/have zero idea of what I want to “do with my life”, there was also the reality that I wouldn’t be able to get a place of my own for a little while because my arm was still re-attaching itself to the rest of my body. So I got a job at a start-up my brother’s girlfriend worked at and did that for a few months. I got promoted (cool!) and then 4 days later the company ran out of funding (ahh) and then I didn’t have a job again but I had learned a decent bit about marketing and a decent bit about the fact that I didn’t want to work in the tech world. BUT I made a little chunk of money from it so we’re calling it a net positive.
I took that money and my newly presented free time and did what any right thinking 23 year old would do. I traveled. I went to Madrid and had one of the most outrageously fun weeks ever, I visited a friend of mine in Utah and went skiing in the Wasatch Range, and then I accepted a job. In Colorado. Because while Connecticut is a wonderful place filled with wonderful people, I was resenting it. I have this incredible window of time right now where I have virtually zero responsibility. I don’t have any kids that I know of, I’m not in a relationship, I don’t have my name on a lease, I am literally living the life that every 45 year old guy on a Greyhound Bus wishes they could live. Do you know how fucking good it feels to buy a one-way plane ticket across the country? Incredible! Are there some melancholy parts to it all? Damn right there are. I’m probably going to have to sell my awesome 1973 Scout, there are some phenomenal people that mean the world to me out here that I won’t see for a while, my dogs won’t know where in the world I’ve gone, and I haven’t finished my ADK 46. But the alternative isn’t something I’m that interested in. So I’m going.
I’ve never claimed to be anything more than someone just trying to figure it out. Anyone who says they’ve got their shit together is lying. A few times now I’ve made the mistake of viewing happiness a binary, and if I’m not elated I’ve felt that I have to tear it all down and start over. I’ve built myself up and torn myself down a few times now and realized I won’t just wake up one day with toast popping out of the toaster right into my hand with the feeling that everything is perfect. First off, that sounds boring but for the most part, I think a lot of happiness comes from doing something that brings actual positivity into the lives of others, and I think the idea of going after happiness is a process. Pretty much I’m saying that it might be a by-product. That theory is currently being tested. So I’m gonna smile and have fun and keep walking forward and see where this all takes me.
On January 15th I’ll have my first day of work on a therapy ranch in the Rocky Mountains and I’ll figure it out from there.