Cocktail Party Questions

When meeting for the first time, Americans love to ask "What do you do?" That question is often followed by "Where do you live?" It seems we want to get a basic framework for the people we meet, and these are two of the categories by which we box people in.

When I say that I am an Urban Nomad, it generally confuses people. I don't fit in a box. Admittedly, the Urban Nomadic life is not something that people generally choose. After people understand the definition (see sidebar of this blog) they often say that they could not do it. I understand that some people need to provide a stable home for their children or have other good reasons for staying in one place, but this is not generally given as the reason that people say they could not be a nomad. Usually they say that they want to be surrounded by their possessions. They can't imagine not having immediate access to their things. Are the possessions a comfort and stability, or do they define who they are at the very core? If they loose their possessions will they loose comfort or loose a core part of their identity?

These may sound like extreme questions, but I was once in band with a guy who refused to put down his electric guitar. Ever. He always had it, and even if it wasn't plugged in he still played it. We would try to have a serious discussion (as all bands have to have from time to time), and he would half participate while he was still practicing his guitar. We asked him to put it down. He wouldn't put it down. He said that the guitar was a part of who he was.

We all fall somewhere on a continuum in our connection to our possessions, ranging from completely detached to completely attached. We probably also all have different levels of how many possessions we need in order to feel like we have enough. I appreciate nice things and comfortable surroundings and take good care of the things that I have, but I aspire to reduce the number of things that I find completely necessary. I've already reduced into a small storage space. Perhaps more reductions will be in my future. Or, perhaps I will settle into another place soon. Until then, I will continue to confuse people at cocktail parties when they ask that inevitable question, "Where do you live?"

New View and Viewpoints

Usually when I pack up all of my things, it isn't too long until I unpack them in a new place and partake in the fun of decorating and arranging. This time, my things are all packed up and staying in storage. Make no mistake, it's a very nice storage facility and will definitely be the subject of a future blog post, but storage does not afford one the opportunity to unpack or decorate. Yet if one packs, one should unpack. There's something yin and yang about it. To complete the second half of my equation, I went to Vernon, NJ where my friends Chris and Jamie and their two sons just moved into a new home. I pitched in to paint walls, organize toys, collapse boxes and distract the 2-year-old when other projects needed to be finished. Our favorite project was to put the crosspieces into the windows so that each larger window was divided into eight panes of glass. The dividers were a struggle to install, but each finally fell into place with a satisfying snap. Once we were done scrutinizing each window during installation, it was exciting to step back and take in the larger effect. The windows themselves had a finished touch to them, and outside those windows was a view much different than the view I'd left behind in Manhattan.

I will enjoy many different views as an Urban Nomad, sleeping in different places, but I am more excited about the different viewpoints. By staying with Chris and Jamie, I had the opportunity to peek at the world from their point of view, from the parsonage at the edge of the church property, where one can hear the choir practicing if the windows are open and where one can look out over a majestic valley of trees while grilling. I got to learn more of their personal story and hear the reasons behind some of the choices they've made for everything from paint colors to parenting styles. That is a privilege of being an Urban Nomad.

From Subletter to Nomad

It all began a few years ago when I planned to be gone for a couple weeks over Christmas. I knew others in New York City who sublet their place while they were gone, so I decided to give it a try. I found someone quickly, created a contract, locked up a few valuables, and made some money with very little effort. I was hooked. Every time I was gone for more than three nights, I lined up a subletter. Soon I had repeat customers and friends of previous subletters asking to reserve upcoming dates. Subletting allowed me to pay my rent while performing in shows out of town for weeks on end. Sometimes I sublet without even leaving New York. Last summer I cat sat for a friend while I sublet my place. It was great, until I was gone more than half the year doing shows while the economy soured and it became more difficult to find the subletters. People were not coming to New York on business, they were not taking as many vacations, and if they were, the price of hotels had come down to reasonable levels, making my sublet less competitive. I advertised for subletters on Craigslist. It was a great ad with beautiful pictures of my place. Pictures that were identifiable enough that my landlord saw it and was not pleased. Sort of busted, but six years of a good relationship softened the blow. He said he'd love to have me stay, but if it wasn't going to be me in the place then it would be better to move. I plan to travel, perform in shows, and generally be gone so I said I would move. And then he asked me for the pictures of my place that he'd seen on Craigslist so that he could post them on his realty site. The very same pictures that got me in trouble in the first place.

And so it came to pass that on August 31, 2009 I moved out of my apartment and officially became an Urban Nomad. Late in the evening as I rolled my suitcase into the hall and took one last look inside, I noticed something left on the floor. Not wanting to loose any part of my deposit, I went back in to pick up whatever I had missed. It was a penny. Heads up for good luck. I'd almost left that bit of luck in the apartment, but I slipped the penny into my pocket, shut off the lights, and headed into my new adventure.