squeezing time.

“Walk tall, kick ass, learn to speak Arabic, love music and never forget you come from a long line of truth seekers, lovers and warriors.” - Hunter S. Thompson

i’m packing. i’m procrastinating and i’m packing for new york. already, i dread it a little.

there’s a little bit of me that thinks perhaps i’ll land on an opportunity that makes sense in my life. there’s another bit of me, a huge bit of me, that’s already trying to put “NO!” out there in the universe. I’m aware that my happy-go-lucky lifestyle is coming to a halt for a second. I understand that I have to make sacrifices to get ahead. Please, for the love of god and my sanity, do not let me have to do this in New York. I’ve already done it there once. Twice. Three times. It’s bullshit though, all that talk about making it “anywhere” afterwards, at least financially (funny, I’m not much of a lady, either).

If you’re talking about dreams, well…  I wanted to be a vagabond and so I turned myself into one. Truth is, though, to be a true vagabond you have to let go, completely. You can’t have anything…  anything… waiting for you “back home”. I did alright for a few years but then my conscience got the better of me. I was living in the moment, existing as nothing but a tanned ambassador for peace and good times and all cultures recognized and respected - what a dream… I was allowed that gift to take something out of it and form it into something I could offer other people. I was not a true vagabond. It was not my test to sign off completely (or I would have, I guess, tattooed my face or something just to make it a little easier). I just went there as a journalist. A gonzo journalist, getting all fucked up and writing about it like good ole Hunter S. (an idol first and foremost for creating a genre i understood).

Anyway - now, I want to go back into doing more public relations and promotional work for creative world changers and happymakers…  I am good with a pen, my mouth (yeah shut it) and charm and people trust my taste in things. Also, I know a lot of other people just like me.

I’d rather do it on the west coast, please and let me fly to New York periodically so I can remind myself why amidst Portland’s lush vegetation (and even with its embarrassing lack of diversity) is a better place to be. Universe, god, etc. - we both call the shots on this so let’s make a deal, alright? I promise to decide where my home base is, and soon, if you’ll allow me to travel from it on the kind of regular basis that makes me stay sane. And in gratitude I will write about it, and in return for my undesiring and sincere gratitude you will reward me with the honor of being paid for it. Let’s just keep this beautiful cycle going, shall we?