Camp Donkey: A Return to The Simple Life

The last few months have been something of a distillation process for me. A lot of the things that added a complexity and flavor to my life have been boiled out. Some things were lost due to circumstance, others to habit, and still others to necessity.

Of circumstance, I’m speaking of the fact that people graduate and move away. I simply do not see the same people that I used to see on a daily basis. Actually, I don’t think I’ve seen anyone in person since a little after graduation. It’s easy to keep in touch with people when circumstance delivers them to you daily. It’s equally difficult to keep in touch with people when circumstance keeps them away from you. It seems that after grad school, even more so than undergrad, people move really far away. People I used to see every day are now as far away as England, China, New Hampshire, Alaska, California, New York, Texas, etc. Basically, all four corners of our country and the world have representation. In addition, most of my friends from school are busy trying to start a new life for themselves. This, of course, requires a great deal of both time and attention, leaving little of each for keeping in touch and flying out to have lunch with me twice a week, or whatever. It used to be the case that I could hardly go anywhere without seeing someone I knew. Now, the faces I see every day belong to people whose names I do not know, whose stories I have yet to hear.

Of habit, I’m speaking of the fact that I’m just not very good at keeping in touch with people far away. It’s not that I don’t care. I’ve just never been good at remembering people’s birthdays or sending out holiday cards and such. It’s a really good way to keep in touch with people but nothing something for which I have the knack.

Of necessity, I’m speaking most of my living condition. It’s said that what I do these days is very similar to camping. This is a big change for me. I wouldn’t have said that I was high maintenance before (maybe others would have, I dunno), but I did take a certain pride in having a place that was well put together. My furniture wasn’t the best quality, but everything was coordinated. I had tons art on the walls – paintings, photos, sculptures here and there. My entertainment center had a billion feet of wires connecting a dozen or so pieces of electronics. And my four poster bed was pretty pimp if I may say so myself.

Now, I pretty much only have the things I need to survive. Warm clothes. Basic food stuffs. Internet. A dog. Tivo (watching commercials literally kills you). I only have five pieces of furniture – (1) the bed that I sleep on, which is just a mattress and a box spring on the floor, (2) a rubbermaid four-drawer cabinet which serves as my nightstand, dresser, and safe (more against my dog than thieves), (3) a side table, upon which my tv is precariously balanced, (4) a coffee table, which also acts as a side table, an ottoman, and a dining room table, and (5) a couch, which isn’t really a couch at all, but a futon mattress draped over two air mattresses, one of which is propped up against a built in bookshelf, and depending upon the angle at which it’s propped, it may also be a recliner, or a death trap.

I no longer view cooking as an avenue for artist self-expression, but the meager act of removing everything from a shopping bag and placing it into a crock pot. I’ve even buzzed my head so that all my facial hair is at uniform length so as to simplify grooming. I used to be an aspiring attorney (not really) who worked with his brain (though this, too, is debatable), and now I work with my hands, which have grown rough and calloused.

The point I’m trying to make is twofold:

First, to those with whom I have not remained in contact, it’s nothing personal. Should we ever cross paths in real life, I promise you a monster hug and lunch. Forgive me though, I’m not really good at the occasional call to say hello. Your loss was due to circumstance, not choice nor necessity. Certainly, if I’ve chosen to invite you to the clubhouse, I want you in my life.

Second, it amazes me how much of one’s life can change without changing one’s life. I’m still the same work in progress I’ve always been, just without the frills. And it’s really amazing to stop and see exactly how much of one’s life is only dressing. (Yes, I realize that the counterpart of that analogy is that I'm a turkey and I'm comfortable with that.) It’s probably a good for the soul to move every once in awhile, change jobs, graduate. These things allow you to return, however briefly, to the simple life. But before one scrambles to re-amass everything they once had, one may be advised to take a leisurely walk to no place in particular and maybe stop and enjoy the quiet for a minute or two.