A Letter from Amber Kiker: Our Traveling Donkey
My mom says I need to buckle down.
That I need to get a real job, the dreaded words “Career” came into play. She says I can’t just keep flitting around the world avoiding responsibility forever. That, AT LEAST, I should commit to a stable man before I loose my only real asset to old age,( my current aspiring writer boyfriend does not fall under her category of a stable man until he makes it into Oprah’s book of the month club). Apparently, she and my dad thought the whole traveling thing was just a phase. Like every other nineteen year old, I would pack my bag and bask in the glory of new found parental freedom, sew my wild teenage oats to the rhythm of Belgian beer beating in my blood, a headboard bouncing up against a wall in a summer tourists European wasteland. They never counted on me staying on permanent vacation. Mom says at first she thought it was rather bold of me not to come back to America. To take on foreign living, learn new languages, have noncommittal relationships with exotic men whose unfamiliar sounding names made her shiver vicariously. But after so many years of this wanderlust, she’s beginning to worry about my...gulp...future. And then the worst news came. She says she won't always be here for me to mooch off of in between travels.
Settle down she says, go to school, she says. Have a fallback plan in case Travel Magazine doesn't hire you to do “one word country reviews” (they still haven't emailed me back on that pitch). You need a realistic plan.
Focus, mom says, you must have focus.
I think I get the hint.
FINE! I say and run off to her office where my half deflated inflatable camping mattress waits to comfort me. And that’s how I ended up here writing you, oh sweet, sweet Wrldmrine, on my faithful old mattress that has seen me through so many long nights in Swiss train stations, on Mediterranean sands and afloat my best friend's backyard swimming pool.
I am mapping out a plan for my future.
After lengthy thought and deliberation I have decided I am moving to Hawaii. Unfortunately my position here on my bed has sadistically placed me directly in front of a huge closet mirror. Upon closer scrutiny I can see that I must indeed, quickly go on a diet to prepare my body for Hawaiian living. I am going for the "built like a brick shit house" look....only with more of a feminine appeal....maybe a “brick powder room” instead.
Yeah, that’s more like it.
My approach so far is eating as much food this week as I can in preparation of starting my new diet. As I say farewell to Twinkies and Doritos by stuffing as many of them into my face as possible, I will prepare my new fitness shopping list of chicken breasts, lettuce, and salmon. Amazing, really....I will gain ten pounds in preparation to loose weight. Adding that to my list of priorities, we move on.
I figure I will continue living at my parents rent free accommodations until the end of summer, all the while hording away my tip jar money from the bar where I get paid to look good and poor drinks (must re-assess Twinkie intake). Along with frequenting the gym everyday (well, maybe every other day...don't want to bite off more than I can chew...unless of course if it comes dipped in chocolate) I will file my taxes and apply for financial aid. My intentions are to attend Honolulu Community College for the “higher” educationally challenged. There I will study technologically advanced computerized stuff and train for the day I will not be embarrassed when I tell people what I do for a living. At night I hope to bartend at a local hipster bar in Waikiki, always keeping a watchful eye out for the fortune 500 man that will rescue me from university life.
Finally, on my days off, I shall learn to surf after years of growing up in San Diego where I was too preoccupied with passing out on various couches to attempt anything as sporty as swimming. I will buy a car with the thousands of dollars I save from being such a damn good looking bar wench, and travel the islands looking for love.
I invite all of you, Wrldmriners, to share in my fantasy life next summer. Where we can paint each others body in the glow of sunset beach. Where we can all shred the pipeline of whimsy on crystal boards and sunbathe naked under diamond studded coconut palms.
So there you have it, friends. Focus at its finest.
Mom will be proud.