I've had to field the obvious questions about my move: What do I plan to do? Do I have a job? Where will I live? Do I have a plan? I've tried to maintain my cool in the face of these inquiries, and innocent as they are sometimes they feel like interrogations. That's my own insecurity kicking into gear. It would be nice to have (a lot) more money. It would be nice to have a gig already in place. It would be nice not to have to burden my friends with a indefinite houseguest.
But then, like a guardian angel, I had a chat with a girl at my current job who is taking a similar leap of faith (only with her boyfriend, to Colorado, where they have spent time before). I hit her with the same questions that have been peppering me. She shrugged. "I don't know. We're just going. We don't have a plan. It's fun not having a plan, because then you can just let life happen." Her words were like a cleansing wash. When I mentioned that I'd like to have more money, she, along with another woman who had been listening in, just started laughing. Money is like that in this economy, apparently. It's more of a concept than a reality. The idea of money still persists, but I don't know too many of us who have any. We calculated that I could wish for money here, or I could wish for money there, and it's a zero sum game.
If you've lived any kind of life at all, you know that making plans is a presumptuous, Godlike game. Life is what happens when you're making plans. I think I'll skip the preliminaries, and see what life has got in store. It's fun that way.
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