When I was a sophomore in university, I was all like, “Man, school’s a bummer, and I need a break, and wouldn’t it be really great to go travel around in Africa?” I thought it would be. I thought it would be especially great to do the eastern seaboard of the continent. This is what they call “sophomoric” reasoning.
My brother’s friend, Tony, asked me if I knew what I was in for. “I mean, Somalia literally doesn’t have a government,” he said.
I realized I wasn’t going to go to Somalia.
It didn’t matter. My plan didn’t pan out. I quit a job in protest in the middle of the summer, and that was it. Couldn’t find another one that was worth a damn. So I went back to school. (But, as a side note, quitting that job in protest was one of the most bitching things I’ve ever done. I got to scream–scream my fucking head off–at my supervisor, who I called lazy and stupid and an asshole, and a “fucking jackass,” which is what I left on. Whew. That felt good. And it needed to be said. And I think I ruined his day. He certainly ruined my summer.)
Back then I had nothing holding me back. Or so I thought. But in reality I had school. Of course. School. Gotta get that philosophy degree. The job market is absolutely begging for them. Oh my God, yes. Jesus Christ, yes. Do you know how many jobs I see every day on Craigslist calling for young philosophy talent? Fucking plenty, that’s how many. Boatloads. Rafts of them. Impossibly large numbers.
What was I saying?
Plans have changed a lot in the past several months. For a while I was asking a former lover to travel the world with me. For a while after that I was driving across the country. And then I was going to move to New York City. Which I still am. Eventually. But now I’m thinking, Shit. Winter’s coming. I got mad money. I got time. I got no woman, no responsibility, no kids, no real job, no health insurance, a few thousand dollars, and a passport.
So I’m thinking about going to India for three months. Hedonistic-self-discovery style.
Anyone want to come?