Few things annoy me more then people who think I want to talk about camping. I really don’t like camping, per se, it’s kind of saying one likes going home. I mean, you got to sleep and make your meal somewhere. Maybe it’s because my life is so boring, but sleeping just doesn’t seem like something worth talking about.

I like to get out to country, to travel and see places that are not work, not Albany, not some place I can just ride to on my bike every day like Five Rivers Environmental Education Center or the Town Park. Some place that isn’t my nasty, run down apartment. I try to get away as much as I can, though weather can make it difficult at times. I like being up in wilderness or in some small town, away from Albany. I guess in that sense it’s camping, as it’s a temporary staying up in woods, prior to owning my own land and homestead.

I get it’s an interim solution, and maybe the word for traveling and staying over night in wilderness is camping, but I so despise that term for all the connotations that surround it. I wish people wouldn’t use that goddamn word, or even bring it up. Someday I’ll own my own land, but for now I’m kind of a gypsy, getting away while I still can, exploring, surviving in these years before I settle down. I actually kind of resent being reminded that I’m homeless in my miserable run down apartment in suburbs, and that this is the best I can do on weekends when I can afford to get away from the city.