Nomad
The last few days, I've taken to calling myself a nomad, since I now live in my car and am in the process of driving across the country. (Never mind the fact that a real nomad probably wouldn't have a GPS, leather seats, iPod hookup, and a constant stream of Starbuck's iced coffee flowing through her veins.) I'll be pit-stopping in Chicago for two weeks or so to train for my job, and even once I reach California I'll be crashing with people for two months or so. This is truly a transitional time in my life, and I plan on taking advantage of every road-journey moment possible.
This morning, about an hour outside of New York City, and on my way to Cleveland, Ohio, where I had decided I would stop for the night, I called my brother, and told him of my new persona.
"So I thought about taking up chewing tobacco, but realized that that is fucking disgusting, so I bought a pack of cigarettes instead."
"Are you actually going to smoke them?"
"Um... maybe one or two. But they're really just there to make me feel bad-ass. Oh yeah, I also bought a bandana and tied it around my head! How's that for road-worthy?!"
"Ha! That's awesome!"
"I know. I mean, there's a lot you can use a bandana for!"
"Yeah, like toilet paper."
"Seriously! And maybe I'll find a stick, tie it around the end and use it as a little pack!"
"You should!"
"And, I can tie it around my face and hold up a bank!"
"Um, then you'd be Outlaw Erin."
"Hmmm... yeah. And if I'm going to be an outlaw, I'm want to be Bonnie-ish, not Wild, Wild, West. And I don't really have time to stop somewhere and buy a beret and violin case. So I guess robbing a bank is out."
"Yeah. You don't have that kind of time."
"Totally. Ok, keep brainstorming about things that Nomad Erin would do, and call me if you think of anything else cool. Meanwhile, I'm going to download some Willie Nelson."
"Don't forget Johnny Cash. Talk to you later."
"Late."
A few hours later I stopped for a Dunkin' Donuts iced coffee (my first, which, incidentally, sucked) and snapped this self-portrait:
I like to think I'm looking a bit mysterious. You know, cause nothing says "bad-ass" like a pink bandana and Ray-Bans.
This morning, about an hour outside of New York City, and on my way to Cleveland, Ohio, where I had decided I would stop for the night, I called my brother, and told him of my new persona.
"So I thought about taking up chewing tobacco, but realized that that is fucking disgusting, so I bought a pack of cigarettes instead."
"Are you actually going to smoke them?"
"Um... maybe one or two. But they're really just there to make me feel bad-ass. Oh yeah, I also bought a bandana and tied it around my head! How's that for road-worthy?!"
"Ha! That's awesome!"
"I know. I mean, there's a lot you can use a bandana for!"
"Yeah, like toilet paper."
"Seriously! And maybe I'll find a stick, tie it around the end and use it as a little pack!"
"You should!"
"And, I can tie it around my face and hold up a bank!"
"Um, then you'd be Outlaw Erin."
"Hmmm... yeah. And if I'm going to be an outlaw, I'm want to be Bonnie-ish, not Wild, Wild, West. And I don't really have time to stop somewhere and buy a beret and violin case. So I guess robbing a bank is out."
"Yeah. You don't have that kind of time."
"Totally. Ok, keep brainstorming about things that Nomad Erin would do, and call me if you think of anything else cool. Meanwhile, I'm going to download some Willie Nelson."
"Don't forget Johnny Cash. Talk to you later."
"Late."
A few hours later I stopped for a Dunkin' Donuts iced coffee (my first, which, incidentally, sucked) and snapped this self-portrait:
I like to think I'm looking a bit mysterious. You know, cause nothing says "bad-ass" like a pink bandana and Ray-Bans.
posted by Erin at
9:15 PM
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