It may not be a minor holiday, but here I am actually updating.
I don't think there's anyone who reads this that I haven't already informed (and if there is, I'm sorry, I probably just forgot who's told me they keep up with the blog), but my future plans have gloriously changed. None of you are surprised, I'm sure.
I will not, in fact, be taking the job as a ship's cook on the Hawaiian Chieftain this September. Instead, I am sailing the Kalmar Nyckel to Martha's Vineyard, which will have me back in Pittsburgh something like 9 Sept., after which I will pack my shit up, store it in my parents' basement, and get the hell out of PA.
I don't really know where I'm going, but I'm definitely running away to sea. I need to find some way of sailing single-handedly, with no other people around, just me and the sea in every direction. So I think I'm going to find a small vessel in need of love and a good community of small-craft sailors, and learn. That's it. This is the life I've sworn to myself I'd one day embark on, and it is high fucking time I do it. I made myself an oath last winter that once I was through college, I would never commit myself to a time contract I was not 100% absolutely sure was the right thing to do, that I wouldn't read any books I didn't want to, that I would live my life for myself, as I wish to live it, no matter what -- and that's what I am doing. I extended my time on the Nyckel by two weeks in order to do it. So when I next get to Pittsburgh, I'll be 23. Which is cool. 23 seems like a good year; old enough to be out of that standard college bracket, but young enough to still be stupid and optomistic without raising suspicion. I have a lot of hope for 23.