Follow My Dream to Live Abroad or Never See My Dog Again
One life stand
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I’m back in Los Angeles just in time for the blisteringly hot days at the end of August. Back living at my Mom’s house after another failed relationship. Up at 5am not to get an early start at writing but because I haven’t been to sleep.
I shouldn’t be surprised that this relationship failed. All my previous relationships have. Not sure why I’d expected anything to be different. I haven't changed.
So now what?
That’s the question everyone asks me and what I’ve been asking myself. The answer has always been before to get a job and a car and an apartment like a normal person.
Lazy sod
Fellow Medium writer and friend Quy Ma asked on Twitter “What’s preventing you from chasing your dream?”
I’ve been in a fugue state for the past three years after recovering from heroin addiction. When I was struggling to stay clean there was no dreams or goals, only survival. Keeping a roof over my head and not doing smack was my goal that had to be managed on a daily basis.
Simply put, I had no dream.
There was this stupid test I had taken online that day. It’s called the toxic person test. It’s Briggs-Meyers esq and multiple choice.
It’s not wrong. Me being indifferent about being called lazy confirms it’s accuracy. My nihilist attitude I’d adopted as a coping mechanism isn’t a good thing.
Self-awareness is the first step to shedding toxic behaviors. I’m lazy and unmotivated. I suppose the second step is picking a goal to work towards.
What is my dream?
I don’t care about money. I kinda want a family but I’ve no idea why. I think it’s biological so I’ll keep fighting that urge.
What do I want?
As soon as I saw the tweet it clicked. This. I want this. Not a jar of salsa with a drawing I vaguely resemble, but I want to be known enough for an odd cross promo where I get sent a case of salsa. This is the level I need to get to.
My dream is get paid a living wage for what I’m doing right now. I don’t really want fame but it comes with the territory.
I want to see the world while making a living being the multimedia performance artist Hogan Torah.
I need to get out of my Mom’s house. I am not happy here. I’m forty something years old and it’s humiliating to still be living with my Mother.
Getting a regular job now will only get in the way of my dreams. I make enough to survive off writing but things can change in an instant. One bad month could have me playing catchup for a year. Two bad months and I’ll be homeless.
I can be Hogan Torah anywhere in the world. Living next to Hollywood is convent but not necessary. If I go to another country like Thailand I live like a king for the price of renting a room in LA. There’s nothing keeping me here. Nothing but her.
I’ve had Chicklet since she was nine weeks old. She’s twelve now and still in good health. I know small dogs can live a long time, but I plan on being gone for five years.
My Mom would love to have her. She’s widowed and recently retired. When I moved to Colorado my mom tried to convince me to leave the dog with her. I paid twice what I paid for my seat to have her on the plane. It was worth it.
I go nowhere longer for a few days without her. I’m her person. When I was homeless, In my darkest days of addiction when I would be in withdrawals for days only to relapse again, the only think that kept me from stepping in front of a bus was knowing that my dog would be sad. She loves me, and I love her.
It’s a stupid excuse not to go. I’ve never been off the content. She’s the only thing keeping me here. Meaning I should go. I could take her but I’m going there without a place to live and a couple of suitcases. My mom would benefit from having my dog more than I would.
I’m going to Thailand. If I don’t I know I’ll regret it. Chicklet will be sad, but I can’t live my life for a dog. I’ll probably newer see her again, and it breaks my heart. I need to follow my dream.
