Intermission

This is my winter interlude. That last part is fun to say. Winter interlude. I live in limbo; the intermission between two sagas. This is the part of the movie that the director inserts a montage backed up by nostalgic music to provide inspiration and meaning and connect plot point A to plot point B. In plain terms, not much is happenin'.

The last two weeks have been spent watching movies, eating holiday feasts, visiting family members, and gathering supplies for the coming voyage. Mostly, I've been lying around doing nothing of significance.

It's even difficult to read, watch a movie, or do anything requiring extended focus. It's either anxiety or eager anticipation of what awaits. I think a lot about everything that could go wrong or right; twisting over hypothetical scenarios and debacles. It's terrifically frightening. No plans, no control, no gaurantee.

Heck, I'm tired of reading books, watching movies, reading blogs. I want do something. Be alive! Stories only go so far.

Rex (works with my dad) graciously donated a backpack. Before, I was going to take my Jansport from school. I got a good sleeping bag, some base layer clothing, boots, a tent, and other necessities. Most of these were provided with the help of my dad. He's pretty gung-ho.

I spent the other night in the backyard. Lying in my sleeping bag, looking up at the grey, nylon tent ceiling, I surveyed my 4' x 8' living quarters. Home indeed.

Books

Ahh books. Books have done a lot for me. I didn't seriously start reading until high school and regret not starting sooner. So much time was and is wasted watching movies or browsing YouTube for hours on end. Books help me to articulate frustrations and address them; to understand why something like college and a nine to five don't sound remotely appealing. They stretch and mold my perceptions and beliefs; pushing me to ask questions and think creatively. They give me the questions to ask; present new ways of asking. They've introduced me to cultures the world over, a variety of people, and novel ideas and concepts that would have been hidden or otherwise unknown. This blog is about the physical manifestation of an ongoing literary exploration.

Into The Wild was a very catalytic book. It's hard to finish that book or movie and not feel the desire to gallop into the remaining wilderness not devoured by industry. Did anyone else think, "Hey, may be I could do that?" or "I want to do that."? I read that book when I was sixteen and I've been asking myself that question for almost three years.

Well, except for the part where he goes up to Alaska and dies.

The adventures of Christopher McCandless sparked a strain of reading that branched into a web of ideas that are deliriously exciting. I am disillusioned and slightly depressed by what it currently means to grow up. Does growing up mean student debt, gaining 50 pounds, 40 hours a week of indentured servitude, shopping for furniture at IKEA, or retirement? People actually believe in this load of crap? That happiness is a career or two story house or nice car? Into The Wild gave me a tangible rope to pull on and understand all this rubbish

John Muir and David Henry Thoreau are awesome. Grandfathers of the environmental movement if there were any. Education of a Wandering Man by Louis La'Amour. Hand to Mouth to India. This guy walked from England to India without any money. Absolute thug. The Walk West by Peter Jenkins. The Last American Man by Elizabeth Gilbert. Chronicles Eustace Conway and his adventures. Vagabonding by Rolf Potts.

Those are the core books involving travel that have helped build a foundational courage. My courage comes from what I have learned and understanding that the things that we most often fear aren't that scary.

Books are the poop. Books save the world. Go read one, or several.

Preface

Hello,

My name is Gannon. This is a blog I'm writing. I'm writing it for my parents; so my Dad can keep tabs on my adventures and so my mom will know that I haven't been murdered by some lunatic on the interstate. I'm writing it for all of the friends I've made this first semester of college in hopes they'll drop out too. I'm writing it for anyone who wants to go, but needs to see someone else do it first. I'm writing it for all the books and blogs that helped me along the way.

My name is Gannon McCullough. This isn't my real last name, but for all blogging purposes it will be. I haven't gone anywhere quite yet. Heck, I'm still at college typing this in a computer lab; though, my last day is tommorow. These first few blogs won't be accounts of daring escapades, but more of an introduction. I've always been curious what influences people to do or say the things they do. I'm especially curious what influences some people to journey abroad at their own peril. Hopefully, I can shed some light on my inspirations.

Like I said above, my last day of college is tomorrow. I'm not graduating. I didn't get kicked out because of any heroic rebellion against the Man. I won't receive a degree. I don't have any job offers. I'm dropping out. I'm a college drop-out. Well, Thursday I will be. I'm letting it sink in. Oddly, I feel a strange sense of accomplishment.

It was my original plan to leave at the beginning of the summer, but my parents persuaded me to give college a try. I have given it a try and almost $10,000. College is too expensive for me. It's not too expensive in the sense that I can't afford it (I could easily apply for loans), but to apply for such loans feels like indentured servitude. I can't afford to give four or five years of my life to school and several more years after that to pay back loans with interest. There is no guarantee that all this will even pay off in a job that I enjoy or even utilizes my degree.

I haven't learned much in college. Contributing to my persuasion to give college a try was the idealized expectation that college would be a sort of intellectual haven, fostering my growth into a responsible citizen. In my experience, college is rarely this. A classroom education often trades experience for abstract application removed from reality in time and space. Creativity atrophies and dies. I go, like Louis L'Amour, to find my education in wandering the world.