Hammocks and Porches

I want a hammock. It's going on my list of things that must be in my home, along with a wooden porch and potentially fireplaces.

I was going to wrap all of this up in symbolism and be vaguely mysterious yet angsty about all of this, but I'm lazy, so I'll just tell you that the hammock is a symbol of freedom and awesomeness for me. A person with a hammock plans on having enough free time to enjoy it, time spent reading or napping or listening to music or pondering the existential questions of life for all I care, but time that is not scheduled, time that is not intended for any specific purpose. And I want that in my life. So I will have a hammock.

I will have a wooden porch because I am tired of living in institutionalized places. I am tired of concrete and cookie cutter rooms with taupe walls and beige carpet, with no history beyond that moment when someone decided they could make a killing off of another mid-class apartment complex. I want a porch that I can sit on and watch lives walk by, a porch that I can shoot the breeze on, a porch that I can keep a close eye on whatever children may also be occupying the house as they play various games of sundry origins in my attempt to stop their brains from rotting. A porch gives a house the kind of character I want my house to have. I have no desire to live in a place that has no need of a porch.

I would love to live in a house that has enjoyed life long enough to have had previous need of fireplaces. I feel like these could come in handy in case of an apocalypse of some kind, but I also like the aesthetic appeal of a fireplace in a room. I'm not sold on it, though. I like modern conveniences, probably more than I should, and modern conveniences were more than likely gerry-rigged into a house with a fireplace and so maybe it's more trouble than it's worth. Who knows. I'm not going to buy a house for the fireplaces, but they could play a deciding factor.

I like thinking about what my future home will be like, because I get to choose. That is possibly the one positive about this whole growing up and having to be a real person thing. As deathly afraid of having to make these choices as I am, with all the responsibilities that come with them, there is this wonderful freedom in knowing that I get to make these choices. This is my life now. Holy goodness.

See, and that's what I've missed for so long, that sense of the wonderful adventure that you can make your existence. I grew up, so long ago, idealizing these heroes and heroines in books that dreamed of doing something more, being something bigger, traveling to somewhere, anywhere that wasn't the place they already knew. I loved them for this spirit they all shared that sent them places to do things. Maybe they didn't all go seeking adventure, but they all at least did something when adventure happened in their lives.
Somewhere along the way, I let that leave. I let that burning desire to go do something behind. I don't know that it's a bad thing- remember that Sam loved the Shire and came back to it at the end of it all. I started being happy where I was, which is something that people in books who go do things don't really seem to grasp, being happy where you are. But there's always the danger of forgetting that push to be more when you're happy where you are. Life loses some of its magic and you have to replace that somehow, otherwise you're stuck waiting for things to happen to you and wondering why everything feels so mundane.

I am so excited to be doing something new, to be free of previous obligations and moving on to things that are almost incomprehensibly exciting. I'm backpacking through Europe. What? What? How wonderfully unexpected my life turned out to be. As a friend of mine said, When did I become the kind of person that lives my dreams instead of just dreaming them? (I mean, I know precisely when- when a generous donor decided that money that could be spent feeding the hungry would actually be of better use to us poor privileged college students who want to travel the world, see new things and inspire a sense of great potential in other people; it's not like I made this happen on my own. [end reality-induced aside]) And even though my plans for the fall and the following year are still in the safe-zone of Chapel Hill, I'm not confining my possibilities for life after that. Like I've been.

If there is one thing that four years of perspective has taught me, it's that you never need to limit your possibilities. When something comes your way, by all means, take it. And if you have found that thing, that idea, organization or community that embodies everything you're passionate about in life, pursue it and don't let it leave you. But by all means, don't leave the world behind. There's so much potential in our lives.

I'd hate to see it flounder in a place without hammocks and porches.