It was about two weeks ago, I contacted family and friends to inform them that I was alive, safe and sane in New Brunswick, Canada. A sigh of relief came through, especially with my mother who dearly called the Red Cross, The US Embassy in London, probably the F.B.I and the C.I.A and other government agencies just to know if her son was one of the victims of that terrorist attack. However, that terrorist attack proved one thing, that there's still love between me and my family, though, the return of normalcy begins to take place.This is called the normalcy of worry: about the realities of money, or lack thereof, not having a job or a career, being single, no direction and optimistically having so many great ideas, but no funds to support them. The truth is that I have become a bum, and like most bums having many stories to tell, about adventures and about people along the way and not having a single place called home. Basically, this bum is homeless. I had to ask my friends and family to lend me money, because I made some (okay, several) critical errors on my finances and risky adventures across Europe. I can already hear them saying "what the fuck was he thinking?" So, I can pretend to be outgoing, independent, adventurous and not living the typical working life of my relatives or friends. However, these same people with their ordinary lives(whom I without shame can critique their existence) seem to be there for me when I fail to meet up to even my own standards.
Please Observe the following and say`what the fuck!` after each entry:
1) I went from having $5,000 dollars to $200 dollars
2) I could go be a school teacher? I really don't have a place to live
3) Take a temporary job and get treated like shit?
4) Realize my ideas of living are not giving me a permanent address?
Should I stop exploring the world? Should I settle down and follow the rules of life? Help me!
