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Campsite Euphoria

I have taken to camping at every opportunity. Given that there is a free campsite within an hours drive of the city and that I have everything that I need to get by for a night right there in my car, the question of whether or not I can camp on any given night is given by my schedule. During the week, I work well into the night and somehow trying to set up camp during the darkest hours seems slightly problematic. And since moving out, going to my karaoke dive bar on Saturdays has become a vitalizing part of my weekly routine. That leaves Sundays. 

Shortly after church and any other in-town business I may have, I make my escape into the countryside. Being immersed in nature away from all of the complexities of city living gives me a euphoric feeling of connection with the planet and universe. The number of stars visible beyond the light pollution of the city increases tenfold, allowing me to peer into the heavens and revel in the humbling immensity of the cosmos. A simple tent, picnic table, and fire pit feels like a home I never knew I missed. I feel a simple, satisfying sense of community amid the trees, grasses, and critters, even if they’re not much for conversation.

This is an environment where I feel vibrant, at ease, and inspired. As the day slips by at a leisurely pace, I find myself effortlessly pulling out my sketchbook and journal. Though pain has driven some of my greatest work, this boundlessness is distinct from the usual cathartic drive behind my art. Words and shapes flow freely in the pursuit of beauty and joy. 

As my stay comes to an end, I wonder why it is I should leave at all. But despite my feelings, I know that I would be nothing out here could I not depend on the grocery stores, washing machines, IHOPs, and gas stations which I have retreated from. Caught between the two worlds, I find myself ever looking forward to the coming Sunday.

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Writer’s Block and Perfectionism

I have had a draft saved for revision before posting, but I can’t seem to get it to a state where it feels like it actually fits into my blog yet. Don’t worry, it will make it’s way out there, but it’s just too disconnected from what I’ve written so far.

Meanwhile, I have been somewhat unsure of what to write about, because this blogging thing is new to me and I want everything to be perfect, profound, and important. I don’t think this approach will help me here. Clearly a neglected and empty blog is worse than one filled with imperfect content.

And so much has been going on in the past week, I ought to have plenty of stories. I’ll see if I can’t get a few of them down and queue them up for regular posts. Thanks for dealing with this vacuous, meta, and self-critical post. I’ll get back to the story telling soon.

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Every Morning

As I suspect is common among most people in the world, I awake from each night’s slumber to find that my body did not take the vacation my mind did. As such, I have a to-do list, the most pressing of which is that I HAVE TO GET TO A TOILET, URGENTLY, OR THIS PAIR OF PANTS IS GOING TO BE RUINED! And I’m also usually at least a bit peckish.

This first matter can be difficult to tend to without a toilet to call your own, but that does have a certain way of rendering the addictive snooze button inconsequential. I find myself mildly frantic most of the morning, doing a little dance in my seat that seems out of time with the talk radio usually playing in my car. I know that there’s no shortage of toilets around, but it seems rude to simply walk into an establishment, use their facilities, and walk out without spending a cent.

So I find myself trying to run through my to-do list over the dronings on my bladder: I do need to stop by the grocery store and get more vienna sausage. Moments later I find myself six dollars poorer (but endowed with tasty canned meats, some roma tomatoes, and a jug of cranberry juice), walking out the door of the establishment shouting, “HOW DO YOU NOT HAVE BATHROOMS AVAILABLE TO YOUR GUESTS?! WHAT SORT OF DYSTOPIA IS THIS?!”

And then I realize the option that will always be available to me: the gas station convenience store. Of course I always need gas, and they always have bathrooms but I don’t have time to justify this, I’m about to wet my mobile bed. So I pull up to the store, so frantic with my bodily needs, that I nearly turn off the ignition before realizing I’m not even next to the pump. So I move my car appropriately, turn the car off make sure my purse is in order sprint across the parking lot, give as sincere a welcome to the clerk as possible, scan the building for restrooms (with no helpful sign in sight), check the sign to make sure I don’t embarrass myself by walking into the men’s room, forget to knock (inconsequentially, thank the heavens), lock the door behind me, WHY IS THERE NO PURSE HOOK, FORGET IT I GUESS MY PURSE WILL JUST CONTRACT A VENARIAL DISEASE, AND… no, I am not going to detail using the toilet, relax.

Now relieved and with my full cognitive functions restored, I collect my purse, gracefully exit the building, fill my gas tank, pay with my debit card, make note of my odometer, and drive off into the morning light to find a place to enjoy a nice roma tomato.

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A Nightly Ritual

Seven times a week the sun goes down and, as if by some inescapable force, my body calls on me to rest. While once I might have staved off this urge until its weight brought me down kicking and screaming, now I embrace it because I know I will awake when the sun returns to the sky.

Being a vehicle vagrant, finding a place to conduct this completely natural yet strange ritual comes with a number of logistic considerations. I must find a place where I am unlikely to be interrupted or seen as unwelcome. My spot must be dark enough to sleep, yet some amount of light brings security. Noise can make rest an impossibility in some locations, yet it is easiest to remain undetected parked where people would not be surprised to find a vehicle in the dead of night.

I’ve had luck sleeping in the rear corner of my church’s parking lot. It is recessed within a neighborhood, near some apartments, and quietly away from all but most prying of eyes. It also comes with the security of being a private lot, the only authorities of which are not even on the property at this hour, and which I can rightly claim use of as a full member of the congregation. But this seems somehow at odds with the very reason I set out to live in my car and I am compelled to seek refuge further still from my comfort zone.

Another favorite place of mine to spend the night is particularly perfect when I know I will want to shower in the morning. There are apartments not but a furlong from my gym, and their tenents’ parking frequently spills onto the street, providing me a crowd to blend into. The lighting situation can be difficult here, because in such a high traffic area I must find a spot where the streetlights do not highlight the slumbering person in an otherwise innocuous parallel parked car. When the sun rises, I am off to the gym, back to the car, and on with my day.

Tonight I am trying a new spot. It is near an IHOP, but not immediately next to the doors. I am the only car in sight but I feel secure that I do not seem out of place. There is the occasional sound of patrons coming and going, but so far they are not bothersome and the traffic is light. There is perhaps an abundance of street lights, but its imperfections aside, I feel good about this spot. After all, the church spot was perfect but unfulfilling.

Plus, they have wi-fi here, without which I wouldn’t be able to bring you the latest blog post before bed. The day’s last task complete, it is time for me to get what rest I can and be on my way with the morning rays. And may you sleep well, also.

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Step Into My Home

While many might struggle to see this blue or green-in-the-right-light 1993 Chevy Cavalier as meeting the strict definition of a home, it fills my heart with the same pride a fledgling homeowner might get while unlocking the front door of a new ranch-style 3bed/2bath suburban home. My 0.5bedroom/0bath half-ton mobile home has everything I need in it. No detail was spared while setting the floor plan, and the open-concept layout makes living in it no less comfortable than a five star camping tent.

Actually, I also have a tent in the trunk, in case a camping trip is in order.

The trunk also houses a basket which holds my dirty laundry, so that such garments do not befoul the air of my combination bedroom/closet/kitchen/dining room/office otherwise known as the cab. This hamper’s company includes a spare tire, coolant, and water, an assortment of shoes for all occasions, two paper grocery sacks which serve as my pantry (housing a variety of canned foods as well as potatoes and fresh apples), a plastic tote which stores out-of-season clothing, and my art portfolio which has been making a good number of appearances in conversations recently.

But the cab of the car is where the real magic happens. The driver’s seat, of course, is where I spend the majority of my time. From here I have arm’s-length access to the rest of my home: the manual windows which may roll up or down whether or not the car is powered, the radio which I listen to NPR over, the passenger’s seat which serves as a combination desk/coffee table/towel rack, and the back seat. Every cubic inch of space behind me is utilized to its maximum potential. A trunk houses the majority of my clothes, with a nearby suitcase serving as my delicates drawer. A backpack serves as my shower caddy and perches atop a cabinet-like jewelry box decorated with art and pictures of family. An accordion file keeps my important documents in order. Blankets and a pillow even the space out while stored and atop them sits a thermal lunchbox which contains a couple of days worth of potatoes, apples, vienna sausage, ramen noodles, peanut butter, saltine crackers, salt and pepper shakers, and this amazing all-in-one silverware device.

Sitting on my desk is usually a backpack full of art supplies and office materials. I’ve also got a water bottle, umbrella, some reading material, and a three subject notebook floating around here. A canister of pepper spray rides my keychain, though ideally it is never needed, much like the flashlight which is always in my purse.

I feel somewhat like a turtle, and in the right light, my home completes the image. Home is always with me and it’s wonderful never having to turn around on the way to work (or anywhere, for that matter) because I forgot something. We’ll see if there’s an appreciable amount of time before my come turns from cozy to cramped, but for now I am quite happy with my mobile home.

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Journey's Outset

I’ve long escaped from the world into the thousands of fantasy lands of games, movies, cartoons, and books. Adventure resonates deeply with my soul and tales of underdogs, those with nothing, and the untamed wild have always hit me right in the heart. My favorite fantasy worlds are games where the player starts with nothing and pursues whatever growth strikes their fantasy: Minecraft, Civilization, Starbound, DnD.

And so it comes as no surprise that I find myself escaping the creature comforts of my mother’s home to live a vagabond’s life. I packed my life in the car and drove away without looking back.

The experience has come with its share of difficulties, of course. Daily activities such as showering, changing my clothes, and using the restroom take a bit more strategy when your home has glass walls and no plumbing. I miss the conveniences of modern kitchens with their ability to heat or cool food to my every whim. And of course a reclined driver’s seat is a far cry from a mattress.

But those comforts, aside, I’ve found the experience to be enriching. No longer can I be the bedroom recluse of bad habits. I am out in the world and pragmatism has skyrocketed past entertainment in priority. I find myself more grounded, each day now full of particular challenges and opportunities which sets it apart from yesterday and tomorrow. I’ve finally started paring down my to-do list and spent my time more productively while perched on four wheels than I ever did with a foundation under me.

Blogging has been a thought of mine for some time: a springboard into the pleasures of writing which were trumped by the synthetic, supersaturated engagement of videogames and cartoons. I look forward to pouring out my soul here and hope that at least one person finds meaning within my ramblings. I will, of course, make every effort to make this blog fascinating in its own right, but you can bet that won’t come at the cost of filling it with my truth. So welcome, reader, to the unabashed workings of my mind.