Life would be half as confusing if I didn’t need to climb and explore.
I can’t commit myself wholeheartedly to anything that I can’t draw a topo line on.
Navigating the waters of the real world outside the forgiving shelter of college is interesting in some ways, but is way too bull-shit-full to keep my attention. Insurance, rent, work, car, jobs, fees, fines, girls, stuff. That was a sentence fragment. It feels like a lot of work to just… keep on keeping on… or whatever.
Grow up, work the system, build finances, sex girls, get hood rich, repeat. Live a long life that doesn’t make you feel too bad.
Maybe I should find Jesus or something. That would make things simpler. I’d bet that in a couple centuries people will show that religious belief is a positively selected behavior for modern human survival.
I think the only way I’m going to get close to dulling my angst and unease about whether I should be accumulating or renouncing responsibility is by jumping in the deep end of the dirtbag lifestyle, at least for a little while. I’ve never been “out there” for more than a couple of months. I’m sure I’ll wear out in no time, but I think I should at least try it out. A good number of the more interesting and classically successful old people I’ve met did something similar before caving in to a life of relative comfort, so maybe it won’t completely decapitate my future.
I WILL DIRTBAG!
When? …like sometime eventually or something I guess.