Vanna's insides

Vanna's insides

Sunday, February 23, 2014

When You Live in a Van

When you live in a van...


You may be forced to slow down--because rushing in tight spaces kills any and all drive to stop and smell any flowers and often, that’s how spills happen.
You may one day forget to pack a bra when headed to the gym to get dressed, and you may realize: you prefer it that way.


Your homie/best friend/and resident lifepartner, Quinn, may grow bolder, attempting to venture beyond the van’s limits… And although this adds further stress to your life, you secretly cheer her bravery and uncageable spirit because she always comes back.
You may hurt yourself and your feet by squishing them into high heels for your job, feel sad, and be forced to be honest with yourself as you rub your battered sole/soul in the evening.


You may forget what having a bathroom to yourself feels like, do not fret.  Go to the gym on a Friday night…  Essentially, that will be the same thing.
You will lose any modesty you held around nudity and your body.  You will understand the appeal of going topless, you will applaud the naked bodies around you, all ages and shapes, that forgo the private change stalls for simplicity and ease’s sake.


You will earn your rest every single day.  You will become familiar with the night’s sounds, so much so that your earplugs which you’ve needed since University Residence will now become unnecessary.  You will scare your parents.  You will “BLOG” for the first time.  You will lie to employers…  For the first time, you will forget you own pepperspray.  The streets will no longer feel like dark threats, but homey, vacant rooms for rent.  You will stop explaining yourself, because it makes no difference, to you, whether you can or not.  You will not feel special, but you will feel honest.


You will worry your brothers, and maybe, write poems about them for the first time.  You will become diligent about litter box upkeep.  You will find and appreciate warmth like never before.  You will be surprised and confused by all the love being showered on you.  You will worry about the unfairness of your own luck and blessings.  You clap your hands in excitement on the first of every month when a rent cheque doesn't go through.  You will become an expert at purging and culling.  You will forget how important time to yourself is, and then?  You will remember.


You will turn down offers to sleep on other’s couches, you will feel incomplete when away from your own bed, you will go no where without you homie/bestfriend/resident life-partner, Quinn. You will be happiest in the moments without radio, ipods, phonecalls.  You will relinquish your data plan, feeling grateful when you find WiFi communities, and peaceful when you don’t.  You will turn off your phone a lot more.


You will time and time again wish your life on everyone you come in contact with.  You will write less, but breathe deeply more.  You will see the water daily.  Your love of blankets and cuddles will only increase.  You will consider it a blessing in disguise anytime you lose a superfluous thing like jewelry that was taking up space.  You will forget about meal “times” and will only follow your body and her needs.  You will get a phoneplan that lets you call your mom and best friends more.  You will cherish your surroundings, and build courage in exploring them.  You will see femininity and masculinity in everything and everyone.  Your own luckiness will scare and confuse you.  You will let go of many many things, and you will hold on to so many ones.

When you live in a van, you will live.

9 comments:

  1. Nicely written, Pam. Please do continue...

    Lauren

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  2. Thanks Pam, you take care too.

    Lauren

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  3. love it, sounds like your figuring "it" out! don't you wish more of your friends and family could get "it" too?

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    1. Dan... you get it, man. How rad to make your acquaintance this way... over 'it' and all!

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  4. Loved it all and love what you are doing-- these teachings and adventures can not be undone or forgotten they will always be a part of stronger more enlightened you.
    Fav line: "The streets will no longer feel like dark threats, but homey, vacant rooms for rent." It's like you are a poet or something.

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    1. Just saw this. Thank you dearly, Mr. Kerr. xo friend

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  5. Because of a happy accident in planning I became homeless several years ago. I didn't live in a van, mostly because I didn't own one but I did live in a little one room cabin. There was no water, no electricity and the walls had gaps large enough for squirrels to enter the cabin. I lived with my 6 dogs and 3 cats (and an occasional visiting squirrel) I was still working full time and luckily my work place had a shower and laundry facilities. The freedom I experienced living there was amazing. I've tried to explain it to friends and family but they seemed to believe I was nuts. Thank you for your writing that says it like I could not and takes me back to that feeling of freedom. As I have begun exploring the idea of car camping I wasn't sure what or why but your writing has helped me figure it out. I need to get back to the simplicity of being homeless.

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    1. This was... wonderful to read and receive. Sometimes I forget that what I did mattered. Not more or less than anything anyone else has done, just that it mattered because we each matter (and don't in equal doses). Thank you thank you thank you for your note and your story. It's quite a thing this life, hey Tina? Sending love and gratitude to you, friend.

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