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I can learn to content myself with what I have, to make ends meet, to compromise, to accept that I’m going to die with regretfulness nibbling at my soul. I can divine my future 20 years out that where I am today will prove to have been a decision made with forethought. I can acknowledge the circumstances of my situation is the progression of life aging towards oblivion. I can say, “Bullshit, this is not living,” in defiance. Why would I settle for mediocrity, and struggle for 20 years to one day say, “I’m so glad that I wasted the last 20 years because I’m still in the same house.”

I refuse to squander my remaining years maintaining the status quo. No amount of rhetoric convinces me that staying in place will benefit me 20 years down the road. I’d die at the door to my camper after a ten-mile ruck before I’d sit on a park bench wondering, “WTF dude.” Time doesn’t side with me; it’s my adversary, and I will defeat it by living in the moment without predicting what may happen to me in the future. I choose to live today because tomorrow doesn’t exist. Playing what-if scenarios with spreadsheets, researching and analyzing media-sourced advice for what seniors should do to prepare themselves for retirement, or looking at the world from behind a window in a condo demonstrates to me the beginning of the end. That’s no way for me to live.

I’m old school, and I’ll take my chances holed up in a basecamp in the mountains or my ass strapped in a camper rig blazing down a road of my choosing. I’m “Going Mobile.”