Real people

At this point in my life, I've bounced around jobs like nobody's business. I've worked for the San Diego Zoo, a chainsaw crew, as a personal trainer, a host at a restaurant, and many more. Currently, I've been working for the past six months, and with just two full shifts left, I'll be adding that job to the list as well. This job has been remarkably unique for me since it had nothing to do with climbing, and there was no connection to climbing. It involved real people living real lives—not that people in Yosemite or those route-setting at a climbing gym in Las Vegas during the winter aren't real, but it's different. Those people are different; they aren't your typical grocery store clerks. For the first time in all the jobs I've ever worked, this was the first one where I felt a genuine concern and curiosity from my coworkers. It was clear that what I was doing and the way I live my life was an anomaly to them, as it is with most people. Real questions were asked, such as, "How will you make money?" "Where are you going to go?" "What are you going to do?" "How long do you plan on doing this?" They're simple questions, but they forced me to look deep into what I'm doing here, what I'm trying to achieve, and how I plan on achieving it. Years ago, that wouldn't have been the case; I would have been so wrapped up in the idea of leaving and looking forward to where I was going. Granted, I still am, but as a 26-year-old—aka an adult, aka a man-child, as I'd like to say—I take a lot of things into consideration. It's not as easy as it was when I first hit the road at 21. I drive a large vessel, have bills to pay, and a future to consider, but at the same time, I prioritize my happiness and sanity. I promised myself at a very early age that I would never dedicate myself or lose who I am to anything that doesn't fulfill me, doesn't make me feel like I'm doing it for me. I never wanted to lose my sense of individuality, as I've witnessed happen to so many people over the years. It's the modern idea of selling out, in my opinion. We stop chasing what makes us, well, us, and chase a life of simple pleasures—owning things that end up owning us. The sacrifice most people make is the sacrifice of who they are, their voice, the very thing that makes them, them. And in return, they get electric vehicles, weekend trips, and a symbol of status that means nothing to the next person.