As long as I can remember, I've always had this intense urge to run away. I used to keep bags stuffed with whatever favorite toy or book and socks (on the occasion I had socks), maybe some kind of snack if I had it. As a preteen and early teenager, I would write these long, often ridiculous lists and plans, plotting my escape down to the minute, drawing goofy little diagrams of what I'd be wearing or the escape route I'd be using.
Once as a little kid and twice as a 13 year old I actually succeeded, at least partially. Than at 15 I ran away and married that pedocreep, and then I ran away from him the day before I turned 18.
But I had children, and running away after that became more of a daydream or fantasy than a real option. Even so, I've always kept a bag packed and ready to go, and I take absolute delight in filling it with little treasures, like toothpaste and other travel sized luxuries. The very idea of filling my van with essential treasures fills me with unbridled joy. When I think of goofy things like winning the lottery, my dream isn't to live in a big stupid mansion or drive ugly expensive cars or wear hideous designer clothing - I want a pimped out bicycle with all the trimmings, I want to fix up my van to be this solar powered, eco friendly stealth beast, and I want to build secret gardens and orchards in the woods not for myself (or more like, not just for myself) but for any who happen across them.
And it's not like I grew up with any lofty ambitions as a kid. Not in the way society sees ambition, anyway. Being a doctor for the sake of driving a BMW was never a goal. I love learning, but going to university and paying a billion dollars to learn how to be a good little cog was never appealing to me. Like I'm going to go learn how to code so that my boss can buy a yacht and I can...what? Pay student loans and a mortgage for 30 years with the occasional trip to Hawaii to break the monotony? No thank you.
I don't know. As it is, I don't currently get to do either of those things. I've been raising babies since before I could drive. I even have grandchildren now. I've written two books, which wasn't easy and doesn't pay well. The only success I've earned is not bring a cog in the machine, another brick in the wall, which by modern standards isn't a success at all. I don't want to succeed for society's sake, though. Capitalism isn't even society. It's not like I'd be making my world, my community, a better place by packing up plastic doohickies at an Amazon warehouse, or cold calling old people to con them out of their money for some big ugly insurance company.
Call me crazy, but even after all these years, I still want to run away. I think I will, I just don't know when.
No comments:
Post a Comment