Keylessness

There are various things that a typical person my age has: house, apartment, car, job, closet, bed. For the first time, in a long time, I have none of these things and I cannot lock anything. I have no keys: no house keys, apartment keys, car keys, no keys to the office. I can’t even lock my luggage, since TSA would break the locks anyway. I currently live and work nowhere and my keylessness thrills and terrifies me. A few months ago I finished paying off my college loans, having made my goal that I would do so at 30. I always rented and since I was a high school language teacher, this was very wise. Living in a city with generally reliable mass transit, I never needed, and never bought a car. (Okay, with the exception of the ‘93 Geo metro I “bought” from a former roommate for, I think, $300. But attempting not to die for about 5 months in the pop-can-on-wheels should not count as owning a car.) I have no credit card debit, since I’m fairly type A, and could not imagine not paying the whole amount each month (plus, why would I give CapitalOne charity? They are annoying and never answer my calls). There are no companies, businesses, organizations that care where I am or what I do.

I’ve cut the professional strings as well. For a few years I taught at a very nice, unabashedly liberal high school. And teaching is great, 'till parents think they are buying grades, student plagiarize books that you specifically worn them against plagiarizing, and the administration believes that computers can teach better than humans. True, but it’s also true that I had it pretty good. I had complete creative freedom in my classroom and my students were curious, well-behaved and engaging. Perhaps it was restlessness or that malaise that comes from a relatively comfortable life in which a person seeks and fails to find meaning. Well, rather than continue with a relatively nice but somewhat unsatisfying situation, I quit. I left a secure, pleasant-enough job in 2009, genius move, no? I also left my nice, clean, large, sunny and affordable apartment with great roommates. Decidedly un-me things to do as I’ve been a planner since the age of 8 when I never left the house without band-aids and Bacitracin. I did this in order to what? Audition for American Idol, become a great chef or discover my hidden passion for spelunking? No, yes, maybe, no idea? Lacking a coherent plan, I decided to travel in a disorganized, whimsical, not-me-like fashion. I am in my sixth month of general wandering. I’ve largely made decisions of where to go and what to do based on what languages I speak and where I could not lose all of my fat-cat teacher salary savings. So I began by hiking in Spain, the Camino de Santiago (yes, it’s as amazing as everyone says). I wandered a bit in Italy, and liked it less than Spain. I visited friends and my roots in Ireland, where the scenery is beautifully melancholic and the coffee is far worse than in Italy. I couldn’t resist the pull of home, family and delicious food for Christmas. Then I skied and did some dog sledding in the frozen, crystal wonderland that is Northern Minnesota. Today I’m in London where I can stay with a friend and go to museums for free. In a few days I’ll be heading to North Africa, where I know no one and have never been. I might love it. I might hate it. Both will probably be true.

Every person who asks where I live or what I am doing thinks this is all very cool. They say they are jealous. They wish they could do it, but, you know, with jobs, kids, mortgages, bills….. “Yes,” I acknowledge, being a grown-up has draw-backs but it has serious benefits and that’s why only crazy people let go of the security that all these things provide. In not quitting you have what people always seek: security, routine, the known world. Sure, the known world can bore us. And we think we want adventure and intrigue. It’s fair to say that I’ve had adventure and intrigue in many of my little experiences along the way, but I've spent my fair share of time being a bit terrified. While the unknown may hold adventure, it is fundamentally scary, so we avoid it.

As an avid organizer, list-writer, and folder-of-my-clothes-the-moment-the-drier-cycle-ends, not knowing where I’m sleeping in a few nights challenges me in innumerable ways. Idiotic or not, for now, I remain homeless and keyless with all things in my life unlocked, while I wander around and imagine what else might be possible.