I am slowly figuring out that I may be uncommon. I am uncommon in my daily wants and desires. My needs seem to be different than those that are implicit in society. I find that I only want cash to pay for the ride to the next destination and cold beer upon arrival. I invest not in stocks or 401Ks, but in climbing equipment, packs to haul shit into the back country and bikes to carry myself and my wife across countless borders. The thing is that I feel completely and totally comfortable with this. I know that I am in no position to purchase a home, but I don’t want one of those. How could I with so much world to see. If anything I just want to afford the next plane ticket or better yet, a boat to sail away on. I feel that this makes me uncommon. I don’t quite fit in. I don’t feel like a square, but I know that I don’t fit in a predefined hole. The thing is. Well, I don’t know what it is. I just want to go. I want to explore. I need to remain untethered to worldly belongings and financial obligations. I need fresh earth under my feet. I desire roads that I have never traveled on before. My wants seem simple, natural to me. My desires are clearly grand to most. But all feels uncommon. Others don’t seem to grasp my motivation. What motivation is there but to discover. Not much in this world remains unclaimed. But to my eyes there is endless potential for the new, for the awe inspiring, for the uncomfortably strange. I want experience. I feel that knowledge is gained in this way. To that end I want to be knowledgeable above all else. Even this seems uncommon.
Written in a hammock overlooking San Juan del Sur, Nicaragua.