Colombia calls
So many things that terrify me.
I’ve been studying sailing and boat safety by the books for the last month and planning, basically, to leave a permanent land-based home for good in three months: first as a sort of nomad in Colombia, then as crew on yachts. Part of me, the dominant part, is amazingly excited and jazzed and empowered and can’t wait. The other, smaller part of me…worries.
Little voices in my mind say, You’re not planning well enough. You don’t have enough money saved up. You say you’ll find a way but what if you don’t? What about all the dangers out there in the big bad world? How is a single female supposed to get around when she can’t trust anyone? Oh well, you probably won’t go through with it, anyway…
The concern most jarring to my apprehensive, undisciplined mind, however, is the fact that this new endeavor I’ve undertaken has no bearing on anyone but myself. I’m not trying to prove anything to anyone. I’m not doing it for money. It’s going to require a lot of hard work, and I’m not guaranteed to get anything out of it but the experience and plenty of life lessons.
This is a first for me. Everything else I’ve ever done has in some way been the easy way out. The path to college, this job-I’ve never gone against the grain for any sort of meaningful goal. I’ve never really worked hard for something I wanted, because it was easier to just settle for what I was given, and I'm scared I won't be able to go through with it.
A realization even more shameful than that: I’ve never really done anything significant without some ulterior motive. Sure, I enjoy discovering new ideas and hobbies and learning new ways of thinking-but it’s always been in small doses, markedly narcissistic (“Hey peers, check out what I know about!”), and with half-hearted effort. In other words, I’m great at talking the talk. Only recently, after entering the real world, have I realized how much fear has prevented me from walking the walk. I’ve done things only because I thought they would make other people see me in a certain way. Basically, I have been functioning exactly how I think plenty of kids in suburbia have learned and are learning to function: the adulation and idealization of one meaningless image after the next, whether that image is a rock star or a punk or a hipster, rules our lives.
I do not deny my participation in this non-culture. I experienced lots of ill-defined angsty rage during my anti-everything goth stage after high school. I was totally mesmerized by the hipster ideal in college (and post-college, for a while). I used to do things not because I was particularly passionate about them, but to fit in or at least make my perceived image more alluring to others. For example, in college I loved to dress 80s-neon-sexy-goth and learned to DJ with my then-boyfriend, who had founded the cornerstone discotheque of the artsy-hipster scene in Ames, Iowa. I liked that this seemed to surprise and impress people. I loudly voiced radical feminist opinions in many of my classes. I had an all post-punk college radio show. “Fuck you, society, look what I can do,” my behavior screamed. But really, I was trying to communicate that to myself. The extreme passion with which I pursued these endeavors was not just about music or activism or fashion. More than anything, I was passionate about breaking the boundaries in my own mind, about taking action to unlearn the harmful and limiting ideas I had absorbed from mass media about what it means to be female in modern America.
Since coming to terms with all this, it’s been pretty easy to identify what needs to happen. I need to learn to work hard. I need to stop caring about image and start caring about meaning. I need to establish a long-term goal and achieve it. I need to learn the difference between external validation and real self-esteem. Progress is good so far, but the step I take in July will be the most extreme-and hopefully the most transformative.
The only thing going to get me through this is strength of will. Got to stay positive!
I’ve been studying sailing and boat safety by the books for the last month and planning, basically, to leave a permanent land-based home for good in three months: first as a sort of nomad in Colombia, then as crew on yachts. Part of me, the dominant part, is amazingly excited and jazzed and empowered and can’t wait. The other, smaller part of me…worries.
Little voices in my mind say, You’re not planning well enough. You don’t have enough money saved up. You say you’ll find a way but what if you don’t? What about all the dangers out there in the big bad world? How is a single female supposed to get around when she can’t trust anyone? Oh well, you probably won’t go through with it, anyway…
The concern most jarring to my apprehensive, undisciplined mind, however, is the fact that this new endeavor I’ve undertaken has no bearing on anyone but myself. I’m not trying to prove anything to anyone. I’m not doing it for money. It’s going to require a lot of hard work, and I’m not guaranteed to get anything out of it but the experience and plenty of life lessons.
This is a first for me. Everything else I’ve ever done has in some way been the easy way out. The path to college, this job-I’ve never gone against the grain for any sort of meaningful goal. I’ve never really worked hard for something I wanted, because it was easier to just settle for what I was given, and I'm scared I won't be able to go through with it.
A realization even more shameful than that: I’ve never really done anything significant without some ulterior motive. Sure, I enjoy discovering new ideas and hobbies and learning new ways of thinking-but it’s always been in small doses, markedly narcissistic (“Hey peers, check out what I know about!”), and with half-hearted effort. In other words, I’m great at talking the talk. Only recently, after entering the real world, have I realized how much fear has prevented me from walking the walk. I’ve done things only because I thought they would make other people see me in a certain way. Basically, I have been functioning exactly how I think plenty of kids in suburbia have learned and are learning to function: the adulation and idealization of one meaningless image after the next, whether that image is a rock star or a punk or a hipster, rules our lives.
I do not deny my participation in this non-culture. I experienced lots of ill-defined angsty rage during my anti-everything goth stage after high school. I was totally mesmerized by the hipster ideal in college (and post-college, for a while). I used to do things not because I was particularly passionate about them, but to fit in or at least make my perceived image more alluring to others. For example, in college I loved to dress 80s-neon-sexy-goth and learned to DJ with my then-boyfriend, who had founded the cornerstone discotheque of the artsy-hipster scene in Ames, Iowa. I liked that this seemed to surprise and impress people. I loudly voiced radical feminist opinions in many of my classes. I had an all post-punk college radio show. “Fuck you, society, look what I can do,” my behavior screamed. But really, I was trying to communicate that to myself. The extreme passion with which I pursued these endeavors was not just about music or activism or fashion. More than anything, I was passionate about breaking the boundaries in my own mind, about taking action to unlearn the harmful and limiting ideas I had absorbed from mass media about what it means to be female in modern America.
Since coming to terms with all this, it’s been pretty easy to identify what needs to happen. I need to learn to work hard. I need to stop caring about image and start caring about meaning. I need to establish a long-term goal and achieve it. I need to learn the difference between external validation and real self-esteem. Progress is good so far, but the step I take in July will be the most extreme-and hopefully the most transformative.
The only thing going to get me through this is strength of will. Got to stay positive!