There's something you can always count on around Christmas, and that's nostalgia (probably a chemical imbalance resulting from too much time off and the fact that the calendar makes everything end in these few days, but I digress). So, per usual, I got the hankering to look at my own list of goals for the past three months, and along the line I had to confront the question: how much did I really get out of not having an apartment for a quarter? To wit, A world where the pros mix pros and cons in shiny silver shakers, and you only open your eyes when you pour yourself a glass.
I no longer own any furniture, and I count this as a benefit. There was something extraordinary about being able to carry everything you need in your trunk, and I played it generous too, which means I definitely could have cut more out of my life. You're more free, less tied down, and when you want to, you can just go. When I used to have work in downtown at 8AM, I would drive over to Chinatown the night before and settle in this nook that I knew about. Then in the morning I'd wake up at 7:45 and drive the five blocks to work, walk out of the car in my work clothes all footloose and fancy free, presto, no morning traffic, all the time smiling when my co-workers talked about having to get up at 5:30. Although to be fair I work mostly with women, and I hear there's some impediment where they need to spend a lot of time in the bathroom in the morning.
I stopped paying rent, although some of these savings are offset by other costs, like eating out at least one meal everyday and sometimes two. Towards the end I also found myself staying at one particular friend's place a lot, so I chipped in for their rent.
In hindsight, this is something I'm not too happy with: the fact that I eventually lost the sharp focus I had at the beginning. It's understandable, I think, when you're dealing with an increasing course load and worrying about other things, to take the convenient route and forgo the library for the comfort of a friend's living room. Still, I wish I hadn't so often. I remember waking up in the car one night, just shivering from head to toe, because I hadn't realized how cold it had gotten the past week. Then I realized I hadn't been homeless that week.
How much more do I want to do? This is a tricky question, because at the heart of it, I'm asking myself how satisfied I am with what I already did. The answer, like the answer to many of life's questions, is no. I've realized that my initial motivation was never enough to really go all out and do live-on-the-street homelessness. The only time I came close was sleeping on the beach for a night, and I recoiled so hard to that experience that I spent the next few days on various couches (that post is here).
Instead, I've discovered a lifestyle philosophy that's very appealing to me at this moment. I love the mobility of a drifter's life, and I'm going to try to incorporate aspects of it into my new found life as an apartment-humper. I'm still waiting to hear back from the Co-opt, but I think this would just be the perfect next step. It's cheap rent, squishing into small rooms with a lot of other temporaries, and with the possibility of leaving it all behind for a few nights (it's also furnished).
There's probably more, but not enough waking hours for it all. Merry Christmas! I'm three and a half hours into the holiday, and into about three months worth of nostalgia. Good vibes.
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