To play this game, you write the word MASH at the top of a piece of paper and then choose a number of other categories
Where you will go to college
What you will major in
Who you will marry
Where you will go on your honeymoon
How many children you will have
What kind of car you will drive
How many children you will have
What kind of car you will drive
Then, you draw a spiral in the center until your partner, with their eyes closed, says "STOP". You count the number of lines in your spiral to determine the magic number and then you start whittling down your categories to get to what I like to call "The Prescribed Life" (aka "The Promise" or "The Good Life.")
The end result looks a little bit like this.
Me, shacked up with Hugh Grant in a mansion on some boulevard in Paris, working at "The Louvre" and driving a Jeep Cherokee. I can only imagine my 12 year old self rubbing her hands together with glee at the prospect. So black and white. Everything figured out. Not accounting for the fact that my beloved husband, Hugh, would probably end up holed up in some dingy hotel room snorting coke off of our nanny while I fetched coffees for my over-privileged white male boss who undervalues my education because I'm a woman.
And this is part of the problem. We are taught from a young age to WANT and to NOT WANT without fully understanding what it is that we are wanting and not wanting. I wanted to marry Brad Pitt but I didn't want to marry the smelly boy from my homeroom class whose name I can't remember. I wanted to live in a mansion but I scrunched up my eyes, balled up my hands and prayed not to land on a piddly old shack. I wanted THE PROMISE and THE PROMISE was happiness.
"First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes the baby in the baby carriage."
The prescribed life.
As a result of THE PROMISE, I have spent my whole life wanting more. More money, more time, more things. Now, at the age of 28, I can't help but want something MORE than more. I want less.
In May of this year, I reached a turning point in my life. I moved to another city to be with a man I knew I was going to marry. One week later, we abruptly ended our relationship, which left me all alone, with no job and no home. Devastated, I moved back to Victoria, and into my friend Jenni's house, which abruptly burnt down (if you can believe it!).
At this point, I was reminded of one of my favorite Gary Larson comics.
Feeling very discouraged, I decided to do what any rational 28 year old would do. I piled all of my worldly possessions into my 2004 Chevy Cavalier and hit the road. Four days into my trip, I bottomed out my trusty car (aptly named Merda, after "Merde" in French), dumped all of my oil and heat seized the engine.
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| Merda on her way to the Scrap Yard |
Luckily for me, at this point in my journey, two things had happened to me which had fundamentally changed my view of what my life could be:
1.) I went into a little cafe to do some work and stumbled upon a book called "The Power of Food" by Adam Hart
2.) I met a lovely girl named Mallory Paige (of Operation Moto Dog)
I will write a separate post about each of these two encounters, which together, inspired my 28 year old self to do what my 13 year old self would have deemed UNTHINKABLE - to buy a 2005 Dodge Caravan and TO LIVE IN IT INDEFINITELY.
Now comes the fun part!
This blog will be devoted to my life as a van dweller in the bustling city of Victoria, BC.
Through this experiment, I want to
- learn what it is like to live simply.
- represent an alternative choice.
- live below the poverty line.
- move outside of my comfort zone.
- share my enthusiasm with others.
- have BIG adventures!
- build community.
- honour myself.
In essence, I want to live in a shack with the smelly boy from my homeroom class. Except the smelly boy will be me. And the shack will be Sylvia, my new home on wheels.
I can't wait to share my journey with all of you.
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| The day I met Sylvia |
