jaded
New member
Hey there, just another 20 something trying to breathe a full breath.
Here are some words, about me I think.
No glorified origin story, but, I don't want to be a whiny tit about the hardships that shaped me either. But, it's been more than enough experience of what "normal" is supposed to be. And I'm done.
I have moved around for the first 12 years of my life, being a military brat with very conservative, Mormon families on both sides. When my parents couldn't be in the same room anymore, we moved away and I ended up Stockton. For you lucky few who have not been, it is a unholy union of a swamp and a desert, with suburban spackling, crimes, and rotten drugs in the gutters. I have been trying to rip myself out of for eight years. Whether for better or for worse, I developed pain syndromes, mental illnesses, and started excessively catering my own "setbacks" while wildly dreaming of the "Alexander Supertramp" life. When I dropped out of high school to finish a mural, I think I started to realize I did not have to pursue the cement path of "success" my family wanted me to be on.
I went houseless for two months, rubbertramping up and down the West Coast one winter, absorbing what I could by meeting interesting travelers and home bums. It was a good learning experience, though cut short to fly to Madagascar to see my partner, who had been teaching there for eight months. After that, I tried to turn my energy into restoring this piece of shit city. In which our naivety was rewarded with failure and flagged surface level relationships.
I never allowed myself to dive into traveling. I may have traveled, but I don't believe I've really traveled. I traveled carrying my ties like a tangled ball of yarn that tugged me back at the slightest jerk. I still have sticky feet, and it is incredibly frustrating. I cannot figure out the roots that keep me standing here instead of walking. Maybe these innate fears I have, of not having enough money, the perpetual delusion that I will not be prepared unless I have X or Y, or having been told my entire life the detailed grisly deaths of solo female hitchhikers. And today I think, within reason, it's a crock of shit.
There is so much in this world that is worth experiencing, worth tasting, worth feeling, and I've been placated into keeping myself numb for so long that it feels like my nerves have been blunted with hot tin. I've realized that the only think keeping me apathetic, listless, and depressed is myself. The only thing keeping me here, is myself.
Oh, how it is too fucking easy to dwell of the fears of the unknown, but, I have been there before. That one place where you feel the hot wind blowing across the desert, covered with grit and juniper, with this crazy liquid blue sky above you. It was like a sip of something electric, and I have, in a way, holding myself from what I know I'm going to be doing anyways. But the longer I wait, the more extreme and limited my resources become, and the scarier it feels in my mind because of the slowly depleting "valuables".
So that is the over-analyzed state this site found me. So many interesting things to learn about!! Feeling pretty fucking hopeful going through stories and the repeated message "Just get up and go".
In two weeks, I am moving away from the shadow of my families and known company to Oregon with my partner. While he lays down some foundations for his own homestead, I think I'm gonna go for a long walk....
I hope I do.
Here are some words, about me I think.
No glorified origin story, but, I don't want to be a whiny tit about the hardships that shaped me either. But, it's been more than enough experience of what "normal" is supposed to be. And I'm done.
I have moved around for the first 12 years of my life, being a military brat with very conservative, Mormon families on both sides. When my parents couldn't be in the same room anymore, we moved away and I ended up Stockton. For you lucky few who have not been, it is a unholy union of a swamp and a desert, with suburban spackling, crimes, and rotten drugs in the gutters. I have been trying to rip myself out of for eight years. Whether for better or for worse, I developed pain syndromes, mental illnesses, and started excessively catering my own "setbacks" while wildly dreaming of the "Alexander Supertramp" life. When I dropped out of high school to finish a mural, I think I started to realize I did not have to pursue the cement path of "success" my family wanted me to be on.
I went houseless for two months, rubbertramping up and down the West Coast one winter, absorbing what I could by meeting interesting travelers and home bums. It was a good learning experience, though cut short to fly to Madagascar to see my partner, who had been teaching there for eight months. After that, I tried to turn my energy into restoring this piece of shit city. In which our naivety was rewarded with failure and flagged surface level relationships.
I never allowed myself to dive into traveling. I may have traveled, but I don't believe I've really traveled. I traveled carrying my ties like a tangled ball of yarn that tugged me back at the slightest jerk. I still have sticky feet, and it is incredibly frustrating. I cannot figure out the roots that keep me standing here instead of walking. Maybe these innate fears I have, of not having enough money, the perpetual delusion that I will not be prepared unless I have X or Y, or having been told my entire life the detailed grisly deaths of solo female hitchhikers. And today I think, within reason, it's a crock of shit.
There is so much in this world that is worth experiencing, worth tasting, worth feeling, and I've been placated into keeping myself numb for so long that it feels like my nerves have been blunted with hot tin. I've realized that the only think keeping me apathetic, listless, and depressed is myself. The only thing keeping me here, is myself.
Oh, how it is too fucking easy to dwell of the fears of the unknown, but, I have been there before. That one place where you feel the hot wind blowing across the desert, covered with grit and juniper, with this crazy liquid blue sky above you. It was like a sip of something electric, and I have, in a way, holding myself from what I know I'm going to be doing anyways. But the longer I wait, the more extreme and limited my resources become, and the scarier it feels in my mind because of the slowly depleting "valuables".
So that is the over-analyzed state this site found me. So many interesting things to learn about!! Feeling pretty fucking hopeful going through stories and the repeated message "Just get up and go".
In two weeks, I am moving away from the shadow of my families and known company to Oregon with my partner. While he lays down some foundations for his own homestead, I think I'm gonna go for a long walk....
I hope I do.
Last edited:
