I’ve always enjoyed the concept of “L’appel Du Vide” and lately I’ve often wondered who amongst my peers teeter on the edge of extreme change as I do.
(Not that I’m about to jump off into train tracks or anything, dear goodness no. Although, the sensation of the call of the void does strike every time I stand at a ledge of any type.)
No, in typical writer fashion, I’m speaking more metaphorically.
I’m quite prone to quick decisions that uproot my way of living. In a moments notice the decision is made. I’m going there. I’m moving here. I’m doing that thing now. I’m no longer doing that other thing. Why? Because it’s been like a whole year! That’s forever!!!
Seriously. Time, to me, lasts forever. I get so enveloped in my circumstances even a week feels like an eternity. Like I’ve done nothing else my whole life. I adapt. Mold. Move on. And I embrace these changes with glee.
I stand on the edge and suddenly I jump. And I am pretty damn close to jumping right now….metaphorically.
Here’s me right now:
Calming music plays in my headphones. A breeze is flowing through the screen door and I’m rather comfortable. I’m up later than usual and wondering if all of this is worth it. The dining room table. My comics hung along the walls. The tv in my living room and that shitty couch. Book shelves, kitchenware, a semi decent apartment in a hip city near the water.
I tend to spend most of my earnings, but I work a job that I make a decent living. If I put real effort into it, solid work, it’s pretty reliable. (For now, at least) I could certainly work it for as long as possible, saving up and creating a life here. Eventually move into something slightly better, get a dog, set up camp here for awhile.
But I’m not feeling it.
I’m a second’s notice from dropping it all at the risk of never getting it back. Who knows what the future holds, and people seem to have a damn difficult time finding good paying jobs. Maybe, if I drop it, I’ll fall back to place I not too long ago occupied, a place many, many friends reside. Somewhere that the prospect of leaving is nearly impossible, because you’ll have zero finances and prospects to come back to, leaving you broke, homeless, and alone.
But oh well…
I’m looking at my instruments and wondering how much I might sell them for. I’m staring at my bank account wondering if I bought tickets now, where could I go? I’m sizing up my piles of shoes and thinking “Choose one pair.”
Will I do it? Will I jump?
Probably.
Know that this is empowering to me. It’s the core of my experience here on Earth. I want encouragement, not logic. (And maybe tips.)
Like, how the hell does one up and leave the country to write a novel? How do you come back? Not broke? Not alone? Not losing everything?
…
Do you have this call?
What is your internal monologue around this?
Anyone, by pure and random chance, willing to jump into the void with me?
-Lloyd
Day 11/179