Out with the Old

1 hour left, and one second too, if you factor in the leap addition that science uses to correct for the timing of the planet's rotation.  It has been an odd one, a mixed one, a lonely one - at times.  It has frustrated and delighted, as you have renewed acquaintances and stomped through favourite grounds of the past, and sailed familiar waters.  There were some magical goals, some tense baseball heroics, a beautiful interception return, yet ultimately disappointment.  You watched history unfold from the front row, and it felt inspiring and scary and maddening.  Many flights.  Many billable hours.  A few campfires.  Some real estate viewing.  But little overall progress in seeking out what may be new.

Except.  The deposit made on the Shackleton trip.  From 598 days then to 426 days now to even fewer soon.  Those three months have the ability to shake the foundations.  The King's MFA looming all the more likely, but perhaps as the escape hatch as opposed to a doubling of efforts.  The 880 house and its contents snatched from your grasp, but other possibilities and dreams still to be chased down.  Whether in this year, or next, or beyond, who can say?

My last delirium needs opening.  A pause - 12 mins in - while that gets arranged.

Back.  Delirium Nocturnum, an appropriate last taste of 2016.  That confounding year of loss.  Colleagues and idealism and motivation.  So many lie-in mornings and unkept resolutions, from the Edinburgh mirrors to the laziness of summer and fall.  The clothes slowly not fitting.  Garbage and laundry and paper piling up and going unregarded.  Nights of soft sadness, that have lost their kick, like Hickey's booze did.  And so you wait, and time passes, and you find yourself so much older than your memories.  So much time gone.  So much settling for the easy way out, for the paths of least resistance, risk avoidance, what you know, what causes the least discomfort, requires the least effort.

Can an arbitrary date be used to change it?  To flick a final switch and say, no more, get your shit together, time is wasting you in your hibernation and the relentlessness of the... sameness... will keep grinding you on absent a proactive change.  Absent decisions.  Absent work to physically and mentally right the ship.  Because it needs righting.  The messes need cleaning and the muscles need exercising and the heart needs to be stretched - in all manner of ways.

So.  It is not about the date, but it is the date that must be used to switch the thinking.  If it succeeds, then it's its own proof.  And it must.  So it shall.

I am always writing manifestos about health, about learning, never more so in reflecting on failed attempts.  The optimism in yourself, when needed, remains.  The half-marathon is booked, and will be done.  A start at the 26 stories, in preparation for refinement in the MFA, as well.  The ocean land purchase, to be explored further and seized if correct and true.  The visits to new countries to spark new PLANS, or incite action on old timeless ones.  And, for good measure, mark it with the first tattoo.

You know what to do.  You have the means, you need to show you have the will.  Starting not in a few days or at the beginning of the next month or upon return from another trip.  Starting in 2017.  Which is in 6 minutes.  Excuse me while I go see it in.

Go make it a kind and ferocious one.  I am so excited for the coldness of its waters, the silver dollar's reappearance, and all of the Unknown that will come next.

Un compagnion ideal

It's just after midnight, the usual witching hour.  Since I do not have the journal with me, let's throw the thoughts here.  The pre-2017 manifesto, if you please.

Assuming you are granted the status of the skies until May, I have an idea how to make use of it - for the writing and the running.  Long weekend trips, to tropical destinations.  Working remotely, as a way to enjoy an escape from winter and to ponder the future: fight (stay) or flight (go).

Starting, of course, with Hong Kong, Bali, New Zealand, and Aussie.  The shortness of those visits made true by some long distance training, the music in this device available to guide you through.

The 7 minutes and stairs from Dec 27 onward, to set a tone to be maintained.  205 pounds on the scale at Foxwoods (remember that sunrise?  what a story that proved!) a summary of all your unhealthy behaviours and failures since you stared down that mirror in Edinburgh in three scant numbers.  This path is about seeking out a replacement 1 and 7 if ye can.  There is time for change and need for change and then a point where the status quo itself is wholly untenable.  So, action.

The schedule looks tight, even so.  First weekend back after Bears/Healy/RR is Burns.  Between then and the Brier on March 3, there are 2 windows: Feb 3-5 and 17-20.  Then later in March, the 18-25th week an option.

April 21-24 in LA for the Jays, possibly something squeezed in before then?  The 8-9th?  Then it is Vancouver for Camput, Halifax for the run, and Moncton for the walk, with the boat in between and so a needed rest from the airport at that rate.  By my count a chance for 3-4 destinations, plus NL, LA, and Van.

Options are plentiful - Turks, Trinidad, Bahamas, Jamaica, CR - along with Ottawa and Calgary/Yellowknife for good measure?  That is a big first five months to look forward to - then recline into PEI x2, sailing, camping, Chicago, and into November before you start planning an even-numbered New Year elsewhere?  Have you ever looked out at a year with such clarity?

I like it.  As a way to keep the mind off viewpoint and notch a few more countries off the list.  Time for bed for now.  And to dream up more fun before the untimely chimes of 5am!

Counterpoint

Tyler Durden's old classic: "The things you own end up owning you."

No matter the place, is it worth the money squandered on interest?  I'm still fired up to take a look and ponder the possibilities, the what ifs.  But are such thoughts bringing you back around to the inevitable consideration of that old chestnut tree?  If the price is right, how funny woudl that be?  And maybe even combined with that other piece of land as a long-term thought?  That's one that can wait post-NZ to close in time for April 1. 

I have a sense that the goal of freedom is too key.  Locking yourself into working obligations is the opposite of where this dream first started, which was to have a low-cost ability to escape it, and create in the process.  With that thought, it's off to la-la land ridiculousness.

Tumblin'

I have been down this road before.  Oh so many times.  But, as far as I can recall, never that one. 

Named, impossibly, after a person rather than the act of rolling and falling.  The backstory of the research chronicled in the RLS book.  When combined with the sadness of its running out of pages, and the Camino links, and the horseshoes, and the Fools...  compelling.  Foolish, surely, given the motivations and uncertainties.  But compelling nonetheless.

There are ways to make it work, but it requires the adoption of significant financial discpline in 2017 and beyond.  It may be an either/or on the MFA.  The Barque could very well be put at risk.  Long-term consideration of continued SC expenses.  Rental income likely needed.  Desperate times could require the putting up of the condo for sale, just as those fees are increasing. 

Could it front some other type of business?  Have your travel costs been such over the past few years that there is room to splurge on this special dirt, if you scale the worldly travels back?  Most importantly, is that what you want to do?

As we head into 2016, I know this.  Change is required, and needs something momentous at this stage to spur it forth.  The options seem to be funneling toward:

(a) another year of status quo and savings until the last continent next Spring;
(b) enrollment at King's, savings and renewal confined to Dartmouth;
(c) King's plus the purchase of the enclave at a modest price for the writing; or
(d) the reckless, lavish, adventurous purchase - come what may.

Only (a) should be off the table, even as it looms as the path of least resistance.  And (d) all depends on a falling in love just yesterday (sight unseen) that needs reality-based, in-person confirmation. 

Next week, then.  And some pondering time on a reckless flight to the city of sin.  More, as always, on the return.

Pre-Vegas

Back again, another suit-and-tie ferry Monday morning here at 1601.  Dreaming of the next flights, recalling prior reveries (cheers to that season finale, Westworld) in this same chair.  All after a nostalgic last few days - from the GC retirement event ("drifting past the gates of dreams"), to a drive down to Wolfville for delicious red wine and unexpected tears over G, to catching up with Liz over a frustrating Giants loss.  All following on from Nance's surprise weekend trip for the Last Waltz and the trip down the Bearly's and Waldon memory lane.  You cannot go back.

Another year end in sight, setting up for a solo NYE and polar bear dip in advance of the first Asian odyssey since Vietnam.  But first, the Ferozian 40 hour tour through the Vegas strip.  We shall see how little sleep is needed.  Have a good holiday season everybody.  This hearing is adjourned.