1992: Me, in the empty hull of Synchronicity (dad built her in our backyard), being introduced to the world of cruising

Here’s the thing — we’re surrounded by commodities, and the exchange rates between them suck.

We know the obvious ones: money, gold, pig skins.
We know the less obvious ones: time, family

But what about health? Youth? Life itself?

And what about the equations, the relationships between them? We trade time for money. We take that money, we sock it away in a nice savings account. Then a few months later, we take that money out, and we go on a vacation. We relax. We unwind. We buy time with our money.

Loss of Time = Gain of Money = Gain of Time… but at a really crappy exchange rate.

And then? Then you add in the youth factor — youth is a commodity. I am young. I know this. I try to remember this. Sometimes it’s hard; I get wrapped up in fitting in with the office, with the other cruisers, pretending to be older and wiser than I am… really, I will only be 23 once… why is it so hard to just embrace that??

Okay, sidetracked… what am I trying to say here?

I’m trying to say that money is not the only commodity; that time and and youth and health are 3 others that I can’t ignore.

Basically I’m trying to explain why, at 23, I refuse to dedicate my life to a career. Why I am leaving a career without a backwards glance, and throwing myself into this lifestyle, sans safety net. Why I am so obsessed with not letting my life be dictated by a cubicle or a job or a career path; but rather by me, the director.

Six months on, six months off; the best of both worlds; the worst of both worlds? I read a quote once, it said “was he working or playing? no one could ever tell” … that about summarizes by dreams.

Youth is a commodity.
Health is a commodity.

Leah: Don’t even think about wasting them!