i slept in the woods last night, and when i woke this morning freezing & wet & listening to the birds singing, i knew i have to fucking get out.
the thing that stops me every time is the little voice in the back of my head that says: and then what? but god, here & now the little voice is screaming why does it matter? why can't i just fucking head for the hills? because every little voice that tells me logic & reason is countered rather strongly by another voice of someone telling me to run, and all those voices turned out okay. baba ran, and now she's tenured, living in france, and an artist. half the people i went to school with ran, and all of them are happier than everyone else. abraham ran, and now he's following his bliss making movies about things he loves & he's adored by his students. even my mom ran, after college, and she STILL ended up right back here. what would running really change?
would a 3 month road trip wherever the wind takes me be miserable? yes! would i regret it sometimes? yes! but i will regret it so much more if i just go back & sit through months of classes i didn't really want to take.
and yes, that will inevitably be the path. as much as i can convince myself and dream about this other life where i say fuck it and flee to the west coast & canada & the mountains, i don't have a way to actually make myself.