On Being Gypsie
On being … how arrogantly philosophical of me. I also considered The Doctrine of a Nomad, but found that to have a level of pretentiousness that far exceeded necessity.
Back in my day we had to write stories in a ringed binder of paper, called a notebook, with pencils, colored optional if pictures included. The magic lay in that notebook paper could instantly become loose-leaf paper at the tear of a sheet. It could also become a basketball, or projectile of choice should the target be a younger sibling rather than a trash can.
I was raised by straight-laced people. The straightest of the laced, and by god if they didn’t want something more for their children. So we travelled. We saw the world, or at least the corner of it called The United States.
I had a record by eighteen months. Simple assault on Flamingos. But it was in San Francisco and we weren’t from San Francisco.
Summer vacation. It was as routine as spelling tests.
I have no idea about the world except the world I’ve explored. I’ve given it a good go, though only as far as England and Germany. Not as good as some. Better than others. I grew up travelling. I moved out travelling. I have stories. Some are good, some are bad, some are naughty, and others will make you wish you were a better person.
I once lived in an apartment that was once a house. It was in a historic neighborhood, down the street from a private high school. This place. Best. Place. Ever. I negotiated a low rent with the landlord, who also happened to be my boss and signer of paycheck, and agreed to do things I never had any intention of doing. It has stories. The kind that make you wish you were there and glad you weren’t all at the same time.
Have you heard of the Corn Palace? It’s living art. I bartended topless once, sort of. I rode a mule down the Grand Canyon and hiked the swamps of the Natchez Trace. I’ve walked the wall of York too. I was pissed off that day. I needed the fresh air.
I still have the banana flavored condom I got at a night club in Germany in 1994. I still don’t need the picture to remember walking across the crosswalk on Abby Road in 2004. I can still taste the brie, basil, and tomato sandwich I ate on Virginia Woolf’s front steps and the bitter from being teased for my white socks at Canterbury Cathedral.
All that travel, plus the non-travel: the apartment on Concordia, the apartment on Timberlake, the townhouse on Lemay, the cottage on 13th, the house on Waits, and the two apartment on Churches…not to mention the place I moved out of while a friend guarded by bedroom door with a sawed-off shogun so I wouldn’t get beat up. I had broken a guy’s nose the night before. It was better to be over-protected.
So I am neither arrogant, philosophical, pretentious, or even necessary.
I am Gypsie.
Please don’t call me that.
Rock on!
~GG
I love the rawness of your writing. Very blunt and refreshing. 🙂
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Thank you Antonio. I’m not much for sugar-coating. I appreciate you coming over for a visit. 🙂
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I see. You are welcome and I will definitely be back! 🙂
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🙂
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It’s official…I am your newest fan.
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And I yours. I’m so glad to have read your post on SisterWives. Your stories breath with life and passion.
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MWAH GG!
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I’m not sure awards are really your thing, but they are flying at me with the course I am taking so I feel compelled to spread the love. Don’t worry about it if you don’t want to!
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I think I’ll skip it this time. I’ve been busy packing, moving, and unpacking. It’s taken over everything. I’m just getting back online. I hope the course has been going well for you. I hope to catch up with your posts this week.
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No worries, had a feeling something was up. Nice to see you back!
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Thanks! Just another one of my spontaneous decisions. I was finally starting to feel settled, but the opportunity for change presented itself and I jumped. I was full steam ahead before I even realized I was on the throttle.
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Good luck in the new digs
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Thank you. I did well with this move. I moved up, for sure. I just need to get my head wrapped around it. It’s an uncomfortable comfort at this point.
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I think I can understand that feeling
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It’s a weird feeling.
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Moved only a few times but it is so draining
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I’ve moved a lot. This is the first time it’s been hard on me.
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Sorry to hear that. Deep breath, its all up from here
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It is. I should be thrilled I am where I am. And I believe I will be. I think once I make my first trip to the ocean that I will be. I’m going this weekend.
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Nice! Have fun. I’ll be on radio silence the next few days while camping so enjoy yourself
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Have fun camping!
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Thanks!
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Just wanted to pass on my sincerest thanks for all the likes and comments. I know you had a lot of stuff recently and I appreciate so much the time you took today to look at my work. Best feeling ever!
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You are very welcome. It was a nice way to spend my Sunday afternoon.
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Missing your writing. I hope all is well and you come back soon.
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Long shot, and apologies because I know I have tried checking on you in this space. I was reviewing some older posts and was reminded of the conversations we had and I just hope you are okay? Forget about the writing, but I have been wondering how you are and hope this notification will find you somehow.
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