I could certainly tell you why. Give you a psychological breakdown of my shortcomings. Make excuses. Plead compassion.
To do any of this would really divert from the principles of good story-telling, which is to show don’t tell. I’m inviting any of you who would like to come along for this particular ride. This is not a linear progression. Some days I may leap forward; others, look back. Occasionally I may languish (to be honest, you probably will only note this by my absence from writing).
What is the point of this particular outpouring of information? Well, I have entered a life of chaos. I would argue that life pretty much is an unending stream of chaos, but that’s neither here nor there. All I need to state is three little words: New York City.
Yes, I live in New York City, which is probably among the most difficult places to live in the world. Actually, appropos of that, I plan to find exactly where NYC falls on the “most difficult places to live in the world” continuum. My goal, in fact, is to see the world in six years’ time. I hope to do this with my son. I hope to do it with little to no money. I hope to set this goal, plan for it, live it, breathe it, do it!
Why six years? Well, my son is just finishing up second grade. My daughter is going to be a senior next year. I am in debt to my eyeballs. In order to remedy several matters related to these three facts, I think I need three years to get my shit together (I’ll try to keep this a PG blog, but I can’t promise… I curse like a sailor during Fleet Week!). Plus, in three years my son will be ready for middle school. Middle school in NYC is a no-man’s land of bad, worse, and worst. Or, as they say in Russia, самый худший (most worst). In other words, on top of the obscene rent, high cost of living, noise, malodorous environs, I’m thinking that middle school in NYC is really gonna add some serious insult to my injury. My daughter will be either entering her junior year of college (possibly) or filming somewhere (likely), and in either case will be, ahem, ready to cut those apron strings (mine; hers were severed when they cut the umbilical cord).
So, three years to off-load debt (this is an incredible challenge when you factor in the NYC cost of living, not to mention my ex’s combative attitude towards support payments). Three years until my son is ready for middle school. Three minutes… and three years until my daughter is thoroughly sick of me!
But this is “the world in six,” my observant reader notes. What about the other three years?
Well, with any luck, I’ll have a plan in place to travel the world with junior. He’ll be homeschooled as we work our way around the planet. We’ll blog, we’ll learn about cultures first hand, we’ll unplug and work the land. It will be an adventure. A mom-son bonding experience. A break from the intensity of a city that—largely—never sleeps.
How will we do it, you ask? Well, that’s for tomorrow’s blog post. But thanks for asking.