How to be an Opportunist Part I

I remember thinking it's impossible. Well, not impossible.

Impossible for me.

Sure, maybe some trust fund babies or overpaid Australians- (I heard they make something like 20$ an hour for some banal jobs). But I was neither of those things. I resigned myself to the fact that certain things were outside of my reach. Just the same as I couldn't suddenly become a lead dancer for the New York City Ballet (or any other for that matter), I couldn't suddenly quit my underpaid, overqualified job and go travel the world. I had student loans after all. My rent consumed almost half of my monthly income. The ladder I, a so-called entitled Millenial, was supposed to climb was missing quite a few rungs. We're raised on this idea that if we work hard we can rise through the ranks and make something of ourselves. But there I was, child of two immigrants, first to graduate university in my family and indebted to my country for the very same seven years of hard work that they promised me would make me a fruitful bolt in the American machine. Well, I wiggled my way out of the machine and ventured elsewhere. But I was still a slave to Uncle Sam, whether we sent each other post cards or not.

If the older generations have a hard time understanding my reasoning, and that of so many wanderers like me, the younger ones even more so. The majority of us have been taught the "right way" to "adult". How to fulfill the image of the blissful young couple with matching smiles, the successful young bachelor in a chic suit and modern apartment, and the intimidating young business woman with red bottom heels and flawless skin. If we don't fit the role that we're currently supposed to play

in the respective term of our lives, we're doing it wrong. Even if society didn't raise it's eyebrow at us, this idea is so deeply engrained within our ideologies that we cant help but raise an eyebrow at ourselves. Today we can't afford a place with a front lawn in order to compare the greenness of our grass to that of our neighbors. But we no longer feel the need to compare ourselves with others; with the help of social media, we can now self-deprecate by comparing ourselves to ourselves. Or at least, our idea of our selves. Through media, we can build the image we want to be. If it's the chic bachelor, all he needs are a few photos in classy business-wear and sunglasses. Posing in front of something high end is easy as pie.

So when I told some of my well-settled friends -the ones who once perhaps struggled to be the well-suited bachelor or the fierce bachelorette but have now found themselves buying overpriced apartments together with their chosen life partner- that I'm putting a pause to the career I worked and waited so long to build and donating all the material items I spent so many of those paychecks to acquire, all for the sake of ...what? Backpacking? They have more questions and skeptical gazes than your great aunt does when you show up to Christmas dinner without your long term girlfriend. But it's the very fear of turning into someone like your great aunt that spurs someone like me to leave the rat race.

Somewhere in snowy Patagonian Argentina

That I should ever become so intensely bored with my own life that I'll have nothing to do but concern myself with the lives of others, is terrifying.

I don't think I'm all that wise. I just got handed a hand of cards that made me painfully aware of some undeniable truths;

Deep down inside, despite our fear of what others say, and worse still, what the little voice inside our head will say to us when we're all alone with no one to defend us from ourselves, we all know the fine suit and red bottom heels and overpriced apartment will not be the things that determine our happiness. That in our lowest moments, there are places and experiences that can drag our limp, soggy, used up spirits into a place far better than temporary shoppers' high. That we'Il not remember what kind of car we own when our eyes close for the last time. But we can feel so happy that our hearts want to burst and we might even cry in a flash.

For some of us it's looking out onto the painted horizon from the middle of the ocean, for others it's at the top of a rugged mountain terrain, or by the lake nestled beneath it just the same, or cruising down a winding road on a bike or in a beat up car, or watching children covered in dirt and mud playing a ball game in the street, or by looking into the eyes of someone who is a better extension of ourselves.

And we each have our own reasons for these slice-of-life, yet grand-beyond-comprehension moments.

But none of them came with caviar, or a brand name logo.

Think about a time when you were truly blissfully happy. That deep breath you took as you internalized that this is it. Everything is worth it and you are limitless. It's a unity that every religion known to man is based on, and attempts to mimic.

Cerro Castillo, Patagonian Chile

In that moment we are both all-powerful and as humble as we will ever be. And we are sure, without a doubt, that we're in the right place.

At a crossroad, Taitung, Taiwan

The truth is that time is the most valuable and rare commodity that we possess and, like Saudi oil reserves, we have no idea how much of it we have. The answers to why and how to live this life remain mere theories. Religion tries to make sense of it, science tries to make sense of it, but in fact, we don't know. If that's the case, it's easy to be a little different. To be aware that just because someone else did it one way, doesn't mean that that's the only way, or even the right way. Ultimately, there IS no RIGHT WAY.

So when I made my decision based on those few but relevant principles, I placed my trust, not the universe, but myself and my abilities. I left the band wagon knowing that if I should so choose, I could always rejoin. Once you've done something once, it's easy enough to do it again.

My packing list for the first leg of my journey. I had no idea what I was getting myself into

But if this all still sounds a little vague and overly inspirational with not enough practical meat to it, I understand. Remember, I thought it was limited only to Brits on gap year, wealthy Australians, or Europeans with 400 days of vacation a year. And yet, here I am, citizen of one of the only developed countries in the world that doesn't have a minimum vacation by law, and I marked one year around the globe about 3 months ago. WOOOOOOHHOOOO!

So how am I doing it?

The first rule of the game is the first rule of the game (I've said it before):

Stick to your guns, even if you don't have any.

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