My new podcast episodes are out. Ep. 30 New Year Decisions. And episode 29: Leaving Lake Havasu. In these episodes I talk about my decision to leave Lake Havasu, the circumstances surrounding that, solitude in the Mojave desert, a house party for NYE in Phoenix, and finding myself back in Quartzsite at the Wu-Tang Camp.
A New Year with New Podcast Episodes, New Decisions, and Not Resolutions
2023 was a year with many changes. I wanted to talk about some of them here, as well as promoting my podcast and storefront. I don’t make resolutions. I find them to be stupid, especially since they usually turn out to be a list of promises to break. This year I’m making plans to build a better writing routine, work more on pitching and challenging myself with different types of writing.
I’ve been so busy with writing and pitching lately that I haven’t had as much time for doomscrolling TikTok or Instagram. Facebook gets a nod once in a while, but that’s because of Messenger. Otherwise, it’s just ads for stuff I don’t want and can’t afford anyway.
My time off from social media almost always has the same result. I’m a lot more productive. Being more productive leads to more creativity and energy to get things done. More time to do the things I really want to do. I’m pretty sure NYE had a lot to do with charging my batteries and giving me the motivation to get more done.
Peopling with Actual People
I’ve been out in the desert for a long time, alone most of the time, with the exception of chatting with people in passing or texting back and forth with someone for a little while. It’s a poor substitute for interacting with actual people. On New Years Eve, I found myself alone in the California desert in the Heart of the Mojave. I had left Havasu because of neighbors that were getting too chummy. Even when I lived in a bricks and sticks house I preferred to not have uninvited guests drop by.
This neighbor was making a habit out of disrupting my peace and draining my emotional bandwidth. I wasn’t getting as much stuff done. The worst part was I was beginning to think I was turning into a hermit. As though I had forsaken all human interaction so I could sit in my bus alone all day and peck away at my stories.
I left Havasu in the early morning, telling the Man from Porlock‘s girlfriend/travel companion/hostage/situationship that I was going into town to run some errands. She told me they would save my spot, to which I replied, “Don’t worry about it. It’s all the luck of the draw anyway.” I ran my errands, and then bolted for the California border. My iOverlander app told me about a spot just off HWY 95, not far from the Historic Route 66, south of Needles, CA. It looked to be just on the other side of the river from Havasu City. When I got there, it was miles of empty space, flat places to camp, and 5G wireless signal for days.
It was also lonely. There was nothing out there except the wind and a track beaten into the ground by the original settlers who came over the Heritage Trail on the way to the West Coast by way of the Mojave Desert. Something just felt off. I’m a firm believer out here on the road in listening to your gut. Something seemed off. Like I was writing into the margins of the page. Like I wasn’t where I should have been. I camped for the night, ready to hunker down for a few days and crank out some work, since I had a good signal. The only problem was I had no inspiration. I had no reason to even begin. The Muse was nowhere to be found out here. My emotional and creative batteries were drained.
New Years Eve in Phoenix
I woke up the next morning and did some chores around the bus. I played ball with Penny. The sky was hazy and it always looked like some kind of storm was coming, but it never did. Some sort of weird limbo. I tried texting some friends, but they were not very forthcoming in conversation. I talk about that in my podcast.
On Facebook, I noticed a friend of mine was trying to decide whether or not she wanted to go to a NYE party in a nice suburb of Phoenix. Something inside of me lit up at the thought of going to a New Years Eve party. I told her she should go. Which she responded something to the effect of if I was in town we could both go, hahaha.
The gears started turning in my brain. After so long in the desert by myself, and the days before where my neighbors annoyed the living hell out of me, I thought maybe whatever mechanism in me that could enjoy the company of People might be broken. But the idea of a NYE party stirred something inside. It was that pull to keep going. Heading towards light and color instead of sitting in this grey desert. I packed up the bus and headed out towards Phoenix. I knew gas would be expensive, since I had just filled up in Havasu and it was supposed to last a week or more. I checked my accounts, reworked my budget and decided it was worth the expense. Besides, it would be helping out a friend who would otherwise probably just be at home, since that was the consensus of nearly everyone else who responded to her query.
Life if short. Take the risk. Do the thing. We are here to live. Not to toil for others and hide in holes until the shadows pass overhead.
Three and a half hours later, I was in Phoenix. I was headed to my first New Years Eve party in years. Pre-covid was the last time I was out. I had no intention of drinking or being obnoxious. But the idea of being around people appealed to me. The house party had probably around 150 people attending. It was a 70s, 80s, and 90s themed party with great music, games, dancing, and food.
I realized too that my ability to People wasn’t broken. I just haven’t been around people I like. The drifters on their eBikes had a weird edge to them. Something didn’t add up about them, and coming over constantly really started to get on my nerves. These people weren’t burdening me with their philosophical jabber about aliens or Elon Musk or AI. They were there to have fun and I was there for it.
New Year, New Places, New Decisions
The next day, I got my Dutch Bros fix and after my friend took me out to breakfast, Penny and I loaded up in the bus and headed back towards Quartzsite. Passing through on the way to Phoenix, I saw that the area we liked to camp was still pretty open. The bulk of the snowbirds had yet to descend on it. We drove back out, watching the late afternoon light and eventual sunset of the first day of 2024.
The next day, I wrote. I pitched stories. I pitched to prospective clients. I built graphics for my existing clients. I cooked food and researched and sent out emails. I listened to podcasts about affiliate marketing and getting writing gigs to polish up and retrain my focus on what I really want to do with my life. I took care of business. I was so busy I barely spent any time on social media. I had so much energy. I don’t know if doomscrolling drains me or if being around people at NYE was exactly what I needed. Maybe a combination of the two. But either way, I felt like I was back. My worries about money evaporated. I decided to let the work carry me forward. Things were going to be okay.
I worked until about 10pm. By the time I fell asleep, I was exhausted. My dreams haven’t been this vivid in years.
New Decisions for a New Year
Like I said before, I think resolutions are empty promises. How many of us get gym memberships or subscribe to diet programs, buy boxes of nicotine gum, embark on Sober January, and all of that only to have it fail before the end of the shortest month of the year? I decided I liked feeling productive. I liked getting projects done, even if it didn’t have an immediate payoff to my bank account, it did offer immediate rewards in other ways.
New Podcast Episodes, YouTube videos, and Pushing Comfort Zones
So, I plan on making more podcasts and videos, pitching stories to more places, pushing the boundaries of my writing, and challenging my comfort zones. Otherwise, I might still be sitting in the Mojave desert if I hadn’t taken that risk and pushed my comfort zone then. My motto used to be “do something every day that scares you.” Sometimes I just feel frozen from uncertainty. Or maybe it’s the certainty of knowing what the consequences of failure can be. I haven’t been living up to my motto lately. I’ve been taking the safe path. I’ve been keeping my head down and hoping to make it through alive.
My friend said as we left the party “I stay home every other night of the year. Maybe doing something different for 2024 will make things different?” There’s a lot to be said in that. Like the definition of insanity. Since the lockdowns, nothing has felt right. Nothing makes sense. And we are all finding ourselves in a rut.
The Year of Living Dangerously
This year I went from being in a rut in an old house that no amount of money or work could salvage. I found myself living alone, missing my son, wondering how many more years I had left of good health. I took a leap of faith and bought a converted schoolbus to live in when my housing situation evaporated. There was no way I could afford a place on my own, even with minimum wage jobs in my area. Even if I could find a place to live.
The safe path would have been to move, which would have been expensive and given me only a foothold to where I might be able to work a crummy job to continue to pay for a lousy place to live and still not get my bills paid or debts taken care of. The bus was the best choice, but also the scariest.
Finding Myself Homeless but Not Hopeless
For the first time in my life I was Homeless. Living on the road. Circumstances beyond my control put me there, and a traditional way of living would have been impossible. Having the bus gives me control over my life, which is something I haven’t had in a while. While I can, I get to experience this country we live in and find reasons to love it. It’s helping my writing. It’s healing old wounds.
I sold everything I could to get to this place. What I own is in this bus, with the exception of a few boxes of books and appliances I left in storage. I’m doing what I always wanted to do. I’m writing. I’m living. And for once, I’m not freezing my ass off in Colorado.
Little moments like New Years Eve continue to inspire me and remind me that the path ahead is long and difficult, but something good is waiting for me at the end of it. I didn’t get that living in that big empty house with a cranky neighbor who wished nothing but the same pain and frustration of a wasted life upon me that she cultivated in herself.
The best part about living on the road is if I don’t like where I am, I can always go someplace else.
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Some Affiliate Links I Think You’ll Like
Check out the link for Origin, which made a damn fine pair of boots for my travels. Use the code HARRIS10 for 10% off your total purchase. I’ve been wearing mine for nearly 4 years and they are still taking me where I need to go.
Use this link for Osprey, who made my day pack and backpack that I haul my life around in when I am solo traveling. Guaranteed for life, I wouldn’t have any other pack.
Want to have an adventure all your own? It all starts with Booking.com. Book flights, trips, and lodging accommodations with this link to Booking.com
For my van life adventures, you’ll want to check out my storefront on Wayward. From cookstoves to solar systems, these are items you won’t want to live without as you make your journey on the road.
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