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Hippies make the best parents, Becks always says.
It's not like I feel at home in the hotel room—of course I don't. In fact, the more I think about it, the more it makes me feel unmoored. I am always battling with the idea of what I'm doing with my life. The kids I went to uni with ended up getting jobs in the actual discipline we studied, unlike me. They seem to be fulfilled in their careers, and I am forever seeing announcements of their various promotions on LinkedIn. If they took out student loans, I am sure they are on their way to paying their loans off, unlike me. And then of course it's the other stuff: the steady partners, the proposals, the pregnancy announcements. It's not like I want to get married. I've never really felt the need. And I'm not ready for children. God, no. I can hardly take care of myself.
Plus, children are absolute carbon bombs. But when I see my peers progressing in their lives, I feel left behind. I guess that's kind of what my Camden flat symbolizes to me. It's a constant reminder of how stuck I feel. The sad truth is that I have no direction in my life.
When I speak to my dad about about not having direction, he smiles and shakes his head. The man never takes anything too seriously. Life is kind of an amusing game to him, and it serves him well.
You think you can tell your life where to go?
Well, isn't that what everyone does? Set a path and then take it?
Perhaps that's what people think they do, he replied.
And what do you think they do?
He shrugged in that easygoing way of his. The direction doesn't come from you. It comes from the universe.
No wonder Alistair thinks I'm a hippie when I have parents giving me advice like that. I was never going to turn into a corporate ladder-climber with parents who burned incense at home and served their friends cannabis brownies. My brother chose a nontraditional career, too. He lives on the coast and paints all day. He's lucky; he’s amazingly talented. He may not be making money, but he’s living his best life. He may be eating ramen like I do, but he has found what makes him happy, and that makes it all worthwhile. I shoot him a quick text.
I owe you a visit! What can I bring you apart from the book?
Ugh. I feel the edges of melancholy wrapping around me. I thought that staying at the hotel would keep my distress at bay, just temporarily. Like a honeymoon; a sabbatical from regular life. But the opposite is true. Seeing all this money around me throws my financial position into sharp relief.
This isn't the life I want, I remind myself.
I want a low-maintenance, low-impact, easy-on-the-planet lifestyle. Even if I had direction and a lot of disposable income, I would still shop at thrift stores.
Wouldn't I?
Jamie comes online.
James Mickelson
Ivy! You won’t believe it. There’s a squirrel in the garden. He is SO cute.
I wish I could adopt him.
I wish he would come inside and be my support animal.
What do you feed squirrels, do you know?
Can we feed, him, Ivy?
I love him. I want him to be my muse.
The wonderful thing about Jamie is his near constant happiness and child-like wonder. His life is difficult in other ways, but my folks and I and his lovely carer make sure that he never has to worry about much.
That’s lovely. Have you named him?
No!!! Do you think I should?
How about Acorn? Or Squirrey?
Those are both brilliant names.
Do you think you’ll be able to bring some squirrel food?
I would really love that Ivy if you can.
