No Particular Place To Go

English: Start of a long road

English: Start of a long road (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

This time I am sticking Chuck Berry in your head. He is one of the inventors of rock and roll, so you are welcome very much. He got stuck in mine this morning as I get my head ready for another short shift in my probationary period at my new job at the bookstore. I am not sure how it is going to work out. I would like to stick around for the year (until next years election season when I can get back into THE game) that I promised I would, provided they are happy with me at the end of the week. I am looking forward to the work, it seems like there is plenty to do, and I get to help people find the best book for them. Given my love of books this will be an idea job, for a while.

The reason I am thinking about all this is I have been reflecting on my life in general. A couple of weeks ago I wrote about how good it felt to just be done with having things. I still have stuff, but circumstances forced me to pare way down, and it feels great. As I live life now in housing limbo, which will change in two weeks I realize it also nice not to be tied down to one place. I roomed with some friends for a couple of weeks, and am rooming with another until the end of the month. After that, it is a year of work at a bookshop while I room in a cheap place in Hamlin before getting back to the crazy of working an electoral.

After that, who knows? I may stay in the area, that was the plan. In fact the plan was to move back to my home town of Brockport, or at least the County Lej district it is part of, and run for that office in two years. Now I am not so sure. I hope my Working Families Party boss will forgive me for waffling. Odds are he will. He’s a supportive, great guy, but if he has an ounce of sense (he actually has a few metric tons) he probably was not relishing the idea of running a trans woman in a fairly conservative district. In fact, I am pretty sure I will not stick around.

I don’t know that I want to set down roots anywhere. Maybe I will move back to Buffalo, even though two of my four favorite people there will have moved on (though thankfully an old friend from my childhood moved back to that area so that would be cool.) One of my most faithful readers here on HoA suggested I could interview with his company and move to Portland to hang out with him and his husband. That would be cool. He’s good people (and has a great blog, that you should read) so I think I would enjoy that. Then again, maybe I will just keep my nose in idealist.org and find a job running a canvass on whatever issue appeals to me in any place in the country.

I have come to face the fact that I have a vagabond heart and that is never going to change. More importantly, I have nothing anchoring me to keep me from indulging that heart. I cannot sit still, in any way shape or form. Really, you could ask my father about the hole I wore in our carpet pacing as a kid. My mind wanders and my body wants to follow. I know our traditions in this country discourage that. You are supposed to want to settle down, have a family, own your own home, have a big bank account, and just “be responsible” (whatever that means.)

That’s not me though, and for a long time I felt guilty for it. Now I realize, however, that I don’t have to. Maybe if I had kids that I needed to take responsibility for it would be different, though not necessarily. I don’t, though, so why shouldn’t I live life on my terms? Why shouldn’t I move from city to city, fighting the good fight and making my art? I am grateful I will always have WNY and my friends there to call a safe harbor, but I don’t know that I can call it home. The world is my home and I want to see as much of it as I can, and I will, even if I have to do it from Greyhound buses and riding steerage. I have plenty of ties to keep me coming back here, but none to make me stay here. I have no particular place to go, and that is fantastic.

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