Katie Regan

Writer. Editor. Explorer. Creator.

Tag: Decisions

Adventures in Tourist Fatigue

August 6, 2018 / / 0 Comments

Galleria Vittorio Emmanuele II Milan

Traveling doesn’t have to mean seeing everything all the time

About a week into my stay in France, the homeowners came home for a week and encouraged me to take advantage of our location and do some traveling. How could I resist? I was in a part of the world I had never really been before, surrounded by cities I’d never seen. Why wouldn’t I pop away for a few days?

Milan Streets

Forget that I was staying in one of the most picturesque, peaceful, pastoral settings ever, or that I had just gotten into a really great productivity routine— I had to go! I spent some time mulling over where to go. Paris? Been there. Lyon? It’s close and new. But as I looked at the map, I couldn’t help but be seduced by one international border to the east. A country I hadn’t been to besides a short layover in the Rome airport where I ate McDonald’s. Italy.

Italy was right there. A few northern Italian towns were quite in reach. I settled on Milan. Then, I noticed that the route to Milan had me switching from a bus to a train in Turin, so why not spend a few days there as well? What was originally going to be a long weekend had somehow turned into a 6-day trip.

You see, I do this. If I am going to a new place, I tend to pack it in. How many days do I have? How can I efficiently see as much as I can in that amount of time? Especially when I’m traveling by myself and I don’t have to deal with the, “Well I don’t know, what do you want to do?” back and forths, I am a machine.

Milan Mermaid

This is not always a good thing. I’ll always remember when I went to Paris for four days in 2008. I slayed that city. I looked at the map, planned things out geographically, and swept through it like it was a game of Risk. By the time I hit the third day, I found myself far out in the gardens of Versailles, by Marie Antoinette’s little “hamlet,” and I realized, I had run myself into the ground. I felt weak, shaky, dehydrated. I had hit a wall, and I had a long way to travel back before I got to a solid seat, food, or water.

So, yes, I may be efficient. But, with no one to hold me back, I seek to conquer. Sometimes in the process, I also end up conquering myself.

Duomo Milan

I could tell this was starting to happen with the planning of Milan. As soon as I booked the transport and lodging, I got buyer’s remorse. I didn’t need to be gone for 6 days. Not only would I be losing out on productivity, but I would be spending a lot of money. This is silly.

So, I went to Milan. I did a LOT of walking around the city in the hot hot heat. I spent a lot of money, I wasted a lot of money (more on that in my next post). The city was beautiful. I really liked the vibe. People were friendly. I’ll talk more about the city specifically in another post, but the point is that I did Milan as I do. I used my two little feet to carry me on routes around the city where I could hit what I wanted to see. And by the end, I was exhausted and ready for a return to normalcy.

Milan Bosco Verticale

Once again, I had to remind myself that the whole purpose of this journey of mine is not to be a voracious tourist, knocking out city after city, doing ALL the activities. I am meant to be living for free, working on my stuff, and getting to experience places all around the world. Experience them like I live there, not like a tourist tornado. So, it’s okay to pass up this or that opportunity. It’s okay to not run around like a chicken with my head cut off.  For the foreseeable future, this is my actual life, not a trip.

 

But What About The Books?

April 18, 2018 / / 0 Comments

My inner struggle about whether to keep my library intact or to purge it with the rest of my belongings.

Books are a uniquely portable magic. – Stephen King

I’ve gotta figure out what to do about these books. My original plan was to keep and store my DVDs, books, and obviously any personal effects (filled notebooks, photos, etc.). The rationale behind the DVDs and books was simple: these are libraries that it took me years upon years to amass. My books, in particular, bestow upon me a happiness, a feeling of accomplishment.

Any time the books have been packed up for any length of time, I can feel myself perk up at the first sight of them. When I first moved to Denver, it took about 2-3 weeks for my stuff to arrive on the moving truck. When it came, it was everything. My couch, my kitchen supplies, my BED… despite all these useful items, I immediately unboxed all my books and sat there on the floor surrounded by them, grinning.

Blue Bookshelf

Even right now, they’ve been boxed up since my realtors staged my apartment. It’s just been a couple of weeks. But, the other day I went into the closet to find something and I opened one of the boxes. Some of my favorite tomes sat there, eyeballing me. I felt an immediate jolt of comfort and elation. I adore them. I KNOW them.

This brings me to today. I brought out all the boxes of books from all the closets in order to sort through them. I knew I wasn’t going to keep them all, some had to be cut.

I was very proud of myself earlier. Turns out, I was willing to cut more than I expected. Books that I’ve held onto for years were placed into the “donate” box (which is now full to the brim). It’s time for them to move on to a new home, to be enjoyed by new eyes and hands. I still have a problem, however.

Books are everywhere, and always the same sense of adventure fills us. Second-hand books are wild books, homeless books; they have come together in vast flocks of variegated feather, and have a charm which the domesticated volumes of the library lack. – Virginia Woolf

When I look at the remaining pile of books, the pile designated “to keep,” it occurs to me that it is still pretty large. This becomes especially clear as I start to load them into boxes. First of all, books are way too heavy. I need to spread them out through many boxes to ensure that the box is liftable. Secondly, this means I will have far too many boxes.

Bookshelf

I am calling in favors when it comes to the storage of the things I intend to keep. I am asking friends to donate some of their space to my cause and I greatly appreciate their willingness to lend me some. Now, all of a sudden I am going to show up with six or seven boxes? Boxes which I will have to carry to and from cars, mind you. It might be too much.

I am faced with a dilemma. Do I hold onto my books and maintain my library even though, if needed, I can purchase all these books again in the future (you know, when I’m disgustingly wealthy)? Or do I maintain my resolve and attempt to store them?

A room without books is like a body without a soul. – Cicero

If this plan of mine all goes to shit quickly and I need to set up an apartment, I am going to be sad not to have my books. Even if I remain nomadic for a long time, presumably at some point I will seek out a place of my own again. When that happens, I will be sad not to have my books. Isn’t the entire point of this exercise to push my boundaries and get outside my comfort zone? Maybe that means trimming the fat until I can fit all of my belongings into one carload. Maybe that means abandoning the things that make my home feel like home. OR maybe I should grant myself this one little piece of excess, hold on to this one little piece of my past. Jury’s still out.

I never feel lonely if I’ve got a book – they’re like old friends. Even if you’re not reading them over and over again, you know they are there. And they’re part of your history. They sort of tell a story about your journey through life. – Emilia Fox

Cat Books

After all, bookshelves provide a comfy spot for lounging.

The Breaking Point

February 27, 2018 / / 9 Comments

Imagine it was a cold, grey evening. Except don’t, because I was so far in the hole I wasn’t paying much attention to the weather, I’m just trying to set the scene. Actually, considering that it’s Denver, it was probably infuriatingly sunny and crisp. A perfect day out of many, many perfect days. I believe it was late November as I was sitting down to pay my December mortgage. I was feeling alright. Sure, I had gotten laid off in August. There had been some hairy months there, but I had just picked up a seasonal part-time job. Surely, that income would help me to meet my mortgage, buy me a little more time.

I pulled up my accounts. Reality, in the form of numbers, came rushing at me. At first, it was crystal clear, then blurry, then clear again. I didn’t necessarily expect to avoid dipping into my savings at all, but I was hoping not to make such a big dent. Math strikes again. After I paid my December mortgage, I would have $400 in my account. Four. Hundred. Dollars. January mortgage was a thing of fantasy. A joke, really.

Stormy Denver

What the weather SHOULD have looked like

My world swirled in and out of focus. I couldn’t pay my mortgage. I could not pay for where I lived. I was 34 with no job prospects, working as many retail hours as they would throw at me to try to, what? Buy myself some time? Heroically attempt to make my mortgage, but not do much else? Live no life but to keep this roof over my head?

I was sent whirling. Falling. Spinning. Down. Down. Down. This was a dark day. Potentially the darkest. I was at the bottom of hopelessness. Denver has not been kind to me, friends. And this was the culmination of many years of repeated defeat and disappointment. Many, many years of job hunting and (wrong) job getting. Some awful jobs and bad decisions. Now, the newest iteration. I had been applying and applying for months (years, really) with no light at the end of the tunnel. Any jobs I thought I wanted, I couldn’t get a call. Even with jobs I didn’t want, I would find myself deep in the middle of a panic attack on the way to interviews. Wait, why did I pluralize interviews as if I got many? I didn’t.

I feel fortunate because I have a strategy that serves me well on these darkest days, a strategy I used on this day. When I get knocked over, I wallow. Not forever, but for one day I allow myself to really FEEL it. I sit in it and writhe around. I let the pain, fear, loneliness, and hopelessness wash over me. I think on it, I learn from it. I don’t chase it away. Then, nine times out of ten, I’ll wake up the next day with a clearer head, ready to take action to actually get out of the hole– or at least make the hole a little more comfortable.

The resulting moment of clarity was my biggest one to date. And I’ll tell you, fair reader, that once I made the decision and figured out the answer, it was like a cloud lifted. While I certainly didn’t have anything figured out, and I certainly would run into a lot of trouble along the way, taking control of my own destiny gave me back much of the agency that I had lost in recent years.

Cheesman Park

Starting to feel a little more like normal Denver weather

I realized that I was working all these hours at my retail job, supplementing it with temp assignments and substitute teaching simply to pay my mortgage. I was not giving any time to passion projects or actual future plans because I had to focus on certain money. And I had run out of time. Time would keep moving, my bank account would keep shrinking, and I had no control over my trajectory. I could apply for 1,000 more jobs. I could NOT control if they’d call me, and I could NOT control what a job would be like once I got into it.

I decided to take my mortgage out of the equation. If I took my biggest bills off the table, I would have to make much less money to survive, which would give me the time to actually create something worthwhile. This way, if I ever chose (or needed) to pursue a brick and mortar career again, I would have something to show for myself beyond an array of experiences that only show me trying desperately to find my place somewhere that maybe I don’t belong.

In order to regain control, I plan to either sell or rent out my apartment, sell my belongings, pass off my cat to a loved one, and go rogue.

I am not a religious person, but I do believe in some things. I believe that the universe has been screaming at me for years that Denver is not the right place for me. I have ignored these screams out of convenience, or misguided hope. Year by year, those screams have gotten louder and louder. It just so happens, right as I was getting let go from my last full-time job, I was simultaneously gifted free flights on a major US airline. The best gift I could ever, EVER have asked for (thanks, Marie!) landed in my lap right as I lost the last thing tying me here. The universe had now started jumping up and down in addition to the screaming. 

So, I am going to take my flights, and whatever meager cash I get from selling my stuff, and I am going to travel. I am going to live nowhere and everywhere all at once. I am going to housesit (using Housecarers.com) as much as possible (that’s free living!). I am going to get out of my comfort zone and see what that does for my creativity. I am going to make money any way I can. I’ll teach English lessons either in-person or online, I’ll freelance write or edit. Maybe I’ll land in a place where someone needs any kind of help and is willing to hire me to do it.

Additionally, I will work on my projects. One of those projects will be this blog. At first detailing all the emotions, struggles, and victories of preparing to leave, and then reporting my experiences on the road. Come along with me, won’t you?

Formentera Bathing

Me, soon

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