The Transnational Optimist

Tomorrow it begins, the lists, the organizing.  Work had a morning meeting today about how the market is changing, how the approach needs to change, and to their credit, there are good ideas and genuine enthusiasm from the leaders to help make the ideas happen.  It'll still be the sameness, the burger-flipping, the same cube, hammered into this little box.  But five months from now, I'll be across the border, not looking back.

Most of the last fifteen years have been an exercise in hope wearing off, being interested in too many things and forced to wedge myself into what I can find, which is generic, stuck in environments full of people that just ended up somewhere.  Too harsh?  Simplistic?  Of course.  My solution?  To blow up my life, leave familiar streets and neighborhoods, and take on thousands of dollars of new debt, all for hope, for my mind to have a chance to soar again.

It's no wonder that people are stuck in economic prisons: unless you're rich, everything's stacked against you making this kind of a move, in life and in geography.  I'm defying that stack and it's heartening, even though I threaten to forget that every other day.