me & you & a dog named boo

Here's the good thing about life: despite the fact that the boy's beyond broke and I'm getting there, that the economy/job market/future looks more dismal every day, we both cling to the notion that someday soon we're gonna load up the Mini-Cooper that inexplicably appears in the parking lot (with our names written on the windows in car paint, so we know it's ours) and road-trip across the country. Like in the song that, between the two of us, only I listen to: travelin' and a-livin' off the land... / how I love being a free man. The boy would love a life like that, and he'd love the song, but he prefers to make fun of me for being stuck in the music world of forty years ago.

I'm thinking that this optimism, real or not, is a good thing. At least, I really want to characterize it that way, to allow myself to thrive on this idea that someday we'll do that together -- just the two of us. And anyway, it's better than dwelling on the fact that although we started college at the same time, I'm ahead in my hours and he's behind. I'll be in grad school (assuming I find a way to afford it) when he finishes his undergrad studies. I want to stay here after college, but he doesn't. He not only wants to road trip, he wants to get out. Go up north somewhere, Washington state or Maine, or Canada, anywhere out of the South. In terms of timing and truth everlasting, things might already be on their way to Fuckville.