Maps. Handy things, aren’t they? A useful means of getting from point A to point B, in whatever fashion suits you best. Maybe you prefer the most direct approach, or maybe you prefer the scenic route (you meandering thing you).

We’ve talked about this before, you and I…but wouldn’t it be handy if there was a map for life? You’d be able to see your destination, obviously, and you could pick whatever path suited you best.

Well, perhaps we do. Our destination is ultimately death, and how fast or how slow we get there is largely a matter of our own determination.

But that isn’t what I’m referring to. I mean the other things that make a life worth living. Seriously…does getting up and going to work every day really do it for you? Does being surrounded by…things do it for you? Having nice clothes, or traveling, or a fancy car, or eating out? Does that really (and be honest here) truly, deep down satisfy you at all? Does sitting in yet another tedious meeting or on a conference call resonate within your soul? Does driving your Beamer put you into a Zen state?

So why do we bother?

I’ve been thinking a great deal about simplification lately. I’ve let my own life become way too complicated; I’ve become a wage slave by allowing myself to become a slave to my house. Had I any sense, I’d have sold this freaking thing and taken a loss when I’d gotten divorced. However, we’ve already established I have no sense. Simplification for me will be selling this house, and moving somewhere that is closer to my parents and sister. Simplification will be living in a place where the cost of living is less, where population density isn’t so…well, dense. Where traffic isn’t so horrid. Where daily life is not a competition. A tiny little bungalow with a tidy yard, or a small farmhouse on some land in the middle of nowhere – now that is my idea of a perfect place. Somewhere that I could have a real vegetable garden. Somewhere that I can be myself and not have anyone around to make fun of me or what I wear…and if I want to have purple or blue hair, damnit, I will!

As much as I love this city, I’m coming to the conclusion that it’s time to go. One of the two reasons that I moved back here from Raleigh (never move there, ever) was to spend more time with my grandparents before they died. I’ve now only one grandparent left. The other was that there were no jobs in Raleigh at the time. Times have changed. And truly, if I ever dump this albatross it would be possible to take a more satisfying job that pays less because I would need less.

Doesn’t that sound good? To need less? I think it does.

But there’s not a map to get from A to Z. I’m 33. I’m divorced, I have no kids. I don’t think marriage is for me. It bugs the hell out of me that I don’t know where I’m going, but fuck it, I’ve got to learn to let go of some things and just go with the flow.

The dogs are right. They eat, they sleep, they play. They don't give a fiddler's fuck about any of the shit we silly humans worry about.

Simplification, right? Maybe I should take a page out of my dogs book...