The bad news is that I only have
forty-five minutes two and a half hours three hours to write this. The good news is that I could be writing it on my new MacBook Air instead of on my old iPhone 6 Plus (!). Maybe it’s the feeling that the laptop isn’t broken in enough for any real work yet. Or maybe I’ve just gotten used to typing with my thumbs. But all I’ve done so far, besides the initial setup, is change the background, which always seems to be preset to my least favorite option.
In related news, a former boss/editing client shared my George Floyd article with one of the publications that he writes for, and his contact is interested in seeing more of my work. The same boss/client (whose really more of a friend now, thanks to COVID-19), is also encouraging me to become a journalist of some sort, which may or may not align with my idea of writing my way around the US.
One drawback to this hairbrained and irrational scheme is that my “check engine” light is on again, which means investing in more repairs or another vehicle, both of which would eat into my ready money. But the alternative is breaking down in the middle of the night, in the middle of nowhere, with no cell phone reception and no guarantees that I won’t be found by anything worse than a bear.
But such fears are often born out of safety rather than danger. Civilization and culture can create as many fears as they alleviate by sapping not only our need for courage but also our desire for it. The Pilgrims and Puritans spent three months in the belly of a wooden vessel in order to start a new life in a New World, which may as well have been another planet. Our Forefathers ran the gauntlet between death on the one hand and economic shipwreck on the other “in order to form a more perfect union.” Surely, a daughter of this revolution can manage a solo road trip?
There will never be a safe time to be brave. That’s what distinguishes a vacation from an adventure.
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