The Last One

I have already dropped out of college twice, once in the late 1990's and again just a year or two ago. Both times I had reasons, and both times I had no idea what I would do next.

It isn't that hard for me to see myself not returning to campus, despite having only three classes left to take. The frustration I have felt in the last several weeks as I attempt to make a schedule out of the twisted wreckage of classes offered next semester is enough to push me over the edge.

Likely, if I didn't return next semester, I would end up doing the same thing as in the past, get a job, bust my hump, try not to get too far behind paying bills, etc. No glory.

Now, thinking different.

I would follow my dreams. I would sell everything I own, give away everything I can't sell, and buy a boat. It wouldn't need to be very big, 25' to 30'. Sloop rig, moderate amount of sail, swing keel or a low draw wing. I wouldn't need a whole lot of fancy equipment either. I like to keep things simple. Man found his way all over the globe hundreds of years before computers. Give me a well thought out cockpit, a simple galley, and a berth to lay my head once in a while, I'd be happy as a clam.

Where I went would depend on where I started. It would depend on what time of year it was and how much experience I had with my boat. I'd cruise the coast, probably south, bouncing in and out of ports along the way. When food ran low or money ran out, I'd pick up a quick job. There are always jobs, but most people don't want to do them. I don't mind.

Sooner or later I'd run out of California. I'd just keep going. My Spanish isn't the best, but I know how to order a beer, find a toilet, and usually how to stay out of a fight. It might take me years to make it down the coast of Mexico. I'd just keep moving, outfitting as needed, enjoying life.

At some point, the deep blue water would beckon. I have always been drawn to the horizon, and I would chase the setting sun. I would lose myself forever, bouncing from island nation to island nation. Maybe I'd write stories, long silly tales of people doing silly things. Maybe I'd just be a handyman, roaming different ports in search of work and pleasure. Maybe it would all get to me one day, and like my hero Robin Lee Graham, I'd give it all up and move to the mountains of Montana or something. But what ever happened, it would be my dream, impractical as it may be.

I've nearly reached this moment in my life before, this tipping point of reality. There have been so many times when I could really just walk away from everything. I can't really explain why I never have. There certainly would be people in my life who would think I was crazy, but they do that now. I know plenty of people would doubt me, but that hasn't stopped me in the past. I don't have all the skills to do it today, but I can sail a boat, I can navigate a channel, I can do all the maintenance needed. I can learn everything else, and if it killed me in the process, so be it. Whats wrong with dying doing what you dream?