The Undocumented Months
February 18, 2012, 2:30 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

What, exactly, happened from mid December to mid February?

What didn’t happen.

I fell in love with yet another seaside town, made a ton of friends, and promised to come back. For obvious reasons, it wasn’t real life. I was living in what was essentially a motel room strip with a bunch of backpackers, doing a job wholly inappropriate for my level of education. My closest friends from those months are about five years younger than me, and I have to cop to regularly hanging out with people almost seven years younger. The strangest part is, it didn’t feel strange at all. I did stuff I can’t tell my professional friends at home about without raising eyebrows – drinking Passion Pop at the local skatepark, staying up all night and heading back to work, getting in hardcore pillow fights after ten shots of Jag.

My last night out in town, I finished work at midnight a little sad that I didn’t recognize anyone at the pub. Then, I walked into the local nightclub to about eighty people I had met along the way, mostly serindipity. Everyone was dancing, hugging, sloppy, lovely. If I never make it back that is how I will remember that place, those months.

It was the perfect place to drop off the map and start to sort a more complicated life out by living a less complicated life. To think and not think about what to do next.


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