I like my life. I like my boyfriend, my cat, having a crazy dog who loves me, writing every day, talking about writing every day, working from home, the people in my family of in-laws who treat me like family, the people in my family who love me very much. My talented friends, my excellent apartment, thrift stores just blocks from me, a coffee shop downstairs. To-do lists that get done. Despite my general fear that I am going to end up homeless or hospitalized and then thrown in debtor’s prison, errands are being run and life is being taken care of, running more or less smoothly and generally on course, pleasantly and in a fine, upstanding way. And yet lately, I still want to sell everything and go live in a van in Mexico.
In Mexico, there is no snow. In Mexico, I do not speak the language, and that would be nice for awhile, not understanding anything at all that is happening to me or around me or near me, and not being expected to because I might be slow or retarded and clearly have no idea what’s going on. In Mexico, there is the beach, and blue water. There is sand and the jungle, but also Mayan pyramids and luxuriously feathered birds in psychedelic colors. There is nointernet in Mexico. Or there won’t be, because I will have sold my laptop. There is no cell phone service, because I will have chucked my phone into the sea. There is nothing to do but wander lonely as a cloud with my trousers rolled, trying to write my name on the water and happily failing.
It’s nothing in particular, and it’s something that strikes me, every once in awhile, the totally unoriginal observation that everything keeps on going, in endless circles. You pay a bill, and then it comes back to be paid again. You empty the cat box and then you are on your knees emptying it again a week later. Dishes get clean but only so they can get dirty again, clothes are washed over and over, the floor is swept but not for long. Hardly a hardship. Sometimes a hardship. Sometimes just plain irritating. Seriously? I want to shout sometimes. Seriously, we have to just keep doing this?
In Mexico I would probably get very tired of eating plantains and then having to eat another plantain an hour later, of applying suntan lotion and then having to apply it again, shooing away the little curious monkey from my van and then shooing away another and another and another. Wading through one wave, and then the next and the next and the next. It is The Nature of the World. Or it is The Nature of Me. Or it is the occasionally unhappy combination of the two. Or it is Wednesday, and by Thursday things ought to be just fine.
photo by diankarl