I spent a lot of time and money making this way of life a reality. I relinquished my apartment, sold my car, and gave most of my belongings to Goodwill. I left friends and family behind.
Ostensibly, the trip was designed to give me the time and motivation to develop myself as a musician and a performer. Alone on the road, with no distractions and no income save what my music could bring in, I imagined a musical life, interrupted only by new friends and walks with my dog.
So far, I have become an expert in stealthy overnight parking. I can walk in anywhere and use the bathroom without buying anything. I can go a week and a half without a shower and not look or smell homeless. I know the difference between regular and premium in my gas mileage. The stress on my system has wreaked havoc on my intestines, so I now have a wealth of knowledge about every OTC drug for vomiting, gas, bloating, cramps, constipation, diarrhea, and nausea.
Is this the learning curve? Am I simply acclimating to a radical lifestyle change? My sickness so far has surely interfered with my music. I’ve lost days at a time, huddled under covers watching a world walk by my window. Pedestrians and traffic both blissfully ignorant of two tiny eyes watching from behind translucent curtains.
This is not the life I envisioned. I knew it wouldn’t be glamorous, but I was hoping for a bit more romance than this. At least a Polaroid has some aesthetic to it; this is more like a still shot from a grainy security camera. Do I need to reconsider? Is my plan a failure?
Certainly, I’m not learning all that I planned to learn. In a way, I have gained specialized knowledge I could never have anticipated. Yes, I’m feeling a bit adrift. I hold out hope that all this will gel into something cohesive in the future. For now, look for me washing out my underwear in a rest stop and nursing cups of coffee for hours at a time in Starbucks. Life on the road!