I live in a tiny apartment in the village, and my day-to-day involves much coffee, a typewriter, oil lanterns, cheesy movies, and cuties. Or at least that’s the artificial version I distill for Instagram. Nonetheless, I have a comfortable life. If things were different, I’d look to settle down. The reality is that I’m itching to leave.
I’ve made the most of my time here. I go on long drives in my spunky 2014 Fiesta and I’m organizing camping trips for after the pandemic. I’ve been on adventures in the past year; I had two important surgeries; I’m in the middle of getting a sleeve tattoo; and I’ve done a lot of work towards my mental well-being.
Hopefully over the summer I’ll finish wrapping up my life in Ottawa: complete the tattoo, go on a trip to Newfoundland with my partner, and a big road trip with my bestie. Then I’ll apply for jobs in New Zealand.
I’ll give myself six months. If I don’t find anything, then I’ll visit NZ with my pops and apply for jobs in Vancouver. I’ll spend a few years there.
After that I’m not sure. I would love a small home in the woods by the water, a Jeep Wrangler, a wood stove, a vegetable garden, and high-speed Internet for remote work. I want to be close enough to an urban center for social needs, but far enough to enjoy nature daily. I’d like to have a healthy set of books from a progressive library at hand. I’d like to work on projects like shooting a documentary of queer activists over thirty-five talking about their emotional growth or building a solar-powered GPS navigation device for hikes. I’d love to raise a kiddo, and see them grow and flourish – which might mean moving back to an urban center. Who knows.
Things are up in the air. I’m content with that.