Hitting the ground running

I ended my last entry with a sense of hope that my difficult moment of transformation was also a genuine opportunity to become who I really want to become. This optimism was tempered by a note of distrust in myself, and my ability to actually pull it off.

In the month of days since I wrote those dramatic words, I've justified both that optimism and distrust. I've floundered and flourished in equal measure.

My existence has continued to be extremely tenuous. I am now officially without a home, and my flow of income has remained almost nonexistent. Yet I've done almost nothing to change this, even though I still owe some money to friends, and my resources (i.e. things to sell) are running out. I have managed to get my bills down to a meager $150 a month (an amount that seems to arouse the envy of many), which covers my iPhone plan and car insurance, but I often have a terrible time coming up with even that much. This doesn't include other basics like food, gas, and whatever miscellaneous or unforeseeable expenses that come up, which thus far have only been covered by sheer luck and improvisational savvy. It's an inconvenient way to live, having to arrange couches to sleep on all the time, wondering when I'll get to take my next shower, not being able to order a drink at the bar, not being able to go "dutch" on a lunch date, and so on. The worst part is, I haven't been able to create a single real plan to get out of this situation. Instead, I often find myself fighting the urge to wish it all away, and pretend like I don't really have to deal with it yet. It's an inexcusable, irresponsible attitude to take on the verge of such an imminent disaster.

On the other hand, everything is as it should be. Every aspect of this is still under my control, and I know it's my responsibility to bear.

Besides, I can't entirely be blamed for not having time to put a plan together, considering that I've spent most of the last few weeks—indeed, almost all of this summer so far—on the move. Whenever I haven't been hustling (poorly) in Columbus, I've been dancing in Detroit, driving my two DJ friends on tour from El Paso, Texas to WIlmington, North Carolina (and other points between), partying in New York City, or spending a week out in Portland, Oregon (officiating a wedding, of all things).

Those marvelous opportunities to travel on someone else's dime are now over, but thanks to them, I can say that I criss-crossed the country, while eating well and experiencing the best of life—without having to spend hardly any money (as if I had any?). True, this taste of the nomadic life made it a little complicated to be a dedicated writer/blogger (hence the long delay in writing this), but it also taught me to travel and think on my feet again, and how to wrap my head around the odd incongruities of life—like sitting on a plane, in a first class seat, with only $14 to my name. I've even begun to see the plus side of being homeless in my own city, because it's bringing me closer to the many friends who have generously offered me their couches, guest rooms, and an ear to listen to my (self-imposed) plight. In turn, they're becoming part of the story.

Somewhere along the line, I realized that this, in fact, was the crucial hint I needed to complete the bigger picture. On one long night drive from Chicago to Columbus, by myself, this became a fully fledged vision of where I want things to go. I don't quite know how I'm going to get there yet, but it's enormously relieving to actually see what my life can be. I know that it will motivate many of my actions to come.

So what is this picture? Well, in some sense, it's something that's always been there. It's a direction my life has always been pointing towards, but I just couldn't perceive. In short, I want to be a storyteller. I want to be involved in life, to reveal things, talk about them, share them, and present them in a way that allows people to recognize themselves.

I'm clearly too irresponsible and inconsistent to be a "real" anything—filmmaker, professor, chef, journalist, graphic designer, EMT, truck driver, dance teacher, or Pilates expert (all careers that have crossed my mind)—but I think I am capable of telling stories of people who are. Or, at the very least, I can tell the story of me trying to tell their stories (oh so "meta"!). Either way, it's about sharing things, and putting them out there in a way that fascinates people and draws them in, much like Anthony Bourdain's world-wide food exploits or the subtle personal dramas of This American Life. So that's it: I want to get people involved in stories, and illustrate them with pictures. Cool.

Again, I don't know exactly how I'm going to make this happen, or how it's going to get me out of my current financial difficulty. But one thing's for sure: in many ways, I've already been doing it, in person, and on Facebook, without realizing that's what I was doing. Now, this very blog—and pretty much any step I take in that direction—is just another aspect of the story. Everything I do is part of this "new life" that I'm trying to create for myself, a life that is already underway. In that sense, I've already hit the ground running. It's merely a question of doing it better, with a more deliberate eye towards that bigger picture and the rewards that lie along the way.

Of course, being so new to my own life, there will inevitably be some stumbling. But everyone loves the story of someone who stumbles and gets back up again, right? Or as Kurt Vonnegut (probably) said, "Somebody gets into trouble, then gets out of it again. People love that story. They never get tired of it." So here we go, people. Get ready for some stumbling...