Nomad No More

This post was originally intended to be about something I know entirely too much about. It bugs the hell out of me that I just used “about” twice in the same sentence. Pretty much ever since I joined the navy in 2004 and up until today I have lived out of a suitcase, more or less. I’ve made enough money to buy a home or rent apartments, furnish them with my own money, and sleep in my own bed half the time. It’s the other half that was always the problem. Never being home for more than a couple weeks at a time, so you never really put clothes back into the dresser. Occasionally an item or two would be hung in the closet. Don’t lie. Okay. I never hung anything up in the closet.

My whole adult life has consisted of me shoving as many changes of clothing as I needed, a few books that usually remained half unread, and a shave-kit full of toiletries and hygiene products all into some luggage or a duffle bag and digging it out when I needed it. My laptop always in my backpack, several pens in my pocket, and a constant anxiousness of never staying in the same place for too long. That’s me. The Nomad. Gypsy. Drifter. Whatever you wanna call it, that’s been my lifestyle for the last twelve years.

I don’t even know if I can stay in the same place without losing my mind. It’d be nice to find that spot to settle in. But here’s the kicker. I got laid off of work today. Thirty-three months in, no pay checks coming my way, and probably going to drain my 401k (again). I can see why most people would cry, panic, or beg people on Facebook to pray for them. Please. For the sake of everything you believe in, do not pray for me. But not me. Oddly enough, I feel relieved.

I have been wondering for some time when I could go back to school and pursue a degree with my GI bill.  This presents me with that opportunity. It’s going to be a new direction for me. A new challenge. Not to mention I never have to go out to the rig again. Can I get an Amen? Do not say Amen. You’re not fun.

I’ve narrowed down my degree pursuits to my MFA in Creative Writing for obvious reasons, and the various levels of Aerospace Engineering. I can get an Aerospace degree and be a writer. I can’t get an MFA and work in the Aerospace industry that is booming. Writing is my passion, and I will continue to write novels and blogs and what-not no matter what degree I get.  But part of me knows I’m destined to be Tony Stark and fly around and meet my demise inside an ironman suit of my own creation. How can I possibly learn to do that without getting the degree in Aerospace? I think I need the ultimate knowledge I will obtain with such schooling and the resources I can hijack from SpaceX.

My point is this: When life pushes, you can either, push back and struggle to stay on the same path or you can take that new path you’ve been wanting to take anyway. Don’t worry about the money. Don’t worry about the pain. Don’t worry at all. Worry about how good you look flying around in your own Ironman suit. Shut up. You shut up. Anyways, stay tuned and follow my journey from starving artist- Writer. What? Starving writer. SHUT UP. Again… follow my journey from starving WRITER to genius billionaire playboy philanthropist. You’ll never be that. Be what? A billionaire? A playboy.  You suck with women. Yeah… maybe we could forget that part. YEP. Done.  Roll with the punches and break all the rules. The rest of the shit will fall in line.

If you would like to support my writing, you should check out the Prologue and First Chapter of my current sci-fi manuscript. I’ll keep on conquering the world, and you can keep on reading about it. Here. In this awesome ensemble collection of writing. Did you just call your own blog “awesome”? Yes. Yes I did.