I have been a bit of a nomad as of late. I have always joked that if my chosen career path did not work out, I would choose the life of a gypsy; and I feel as if I have gotten a little taste of it now. This past year I moved over 1,000 miles from my small town home to the Big City. I found a reasonable place to live, and obtained the glamorous day job of a hostess at a restaurant not too far from my place. I slept on the floor for 3 months before I bought myself something of a mattress. It took me that long to buy a mattress because I felt hardcore, like I could write an epic biopic about the experience in years to come. Mostly I am flattering myself in my new brazen independence which is both exhilarating and terrifying, admittedly I feel a little high and mighty knowing I can fend for myself even in a world unknown (ie. the hustling and bustling of a Big City).
My time as a Gypsy Spirit is coming to a close, however. I have one last whimsical hurrah coming at the end of this week - a whirlwind trip planned with my best gal pal to California where we are sleeping on her friends floor and planning on laying on the beach every day to soak up the golden rays- and then I am moving 1,000 miles back to my small town in the middle of nowhere. My sentimental heart is heavy for the friends and experiences that I will be leaving behind, but inside I know it is time to put an end to my wanderings and ramblings, and stay put for awhile. Hopefully I will actually pursue that chosen career path, maybe hit some of those important milestones, and then, if all else fails, resort to the life of a Gypsy once more.