Notebook of a Nomad

1/27/25

Well… after a long hiatus, I am back. Largely due to bullying by my friend Nikki. Nikki’s “encouragement” is actually appreciated, as we all need a bit of accountability at times. 

Unfortunately, after all that waiting, this post isn’t going to include many adventures. Just recharging, processing and reflecting. 

It’s been a month since I’ve started my journey and I feel confident that I can spend a year away from America. Especially with all these news updates bombarding my phone telling me of America’s downward slide into authoritarianism.

I arrived in Sydney with no hard plans and no departure date. I was pretty worn out and ready to relax and catch my breath. My hotel bedroom view below.

It’s interesting that my view is one of an ongoing construction project. During my first year in Chicago, when I peeked outside my gym window, I saw the ongoing construction project of I-90/94. It felt like an obvious metaphor, comparing that construction project to the construction project of rebuilding my life. It felt good to see the slow, steady progress of construction, serving as a reminder that construction is slow but it eventually ends with a finished, much-improved product. 

People who know me know that I can be a bit competitive. I wanted my construction project to be finished before IDOT’s. In hindsight, that was laughably optimistic. I-90/94 has been fully operational since December of 2022. As we sit here in January of 2025, my construction project hasn’t just been halted, it has been sent back to design. The site conditions changed so dramatically in November of 2024, that the plans that made sense in 2022 don’t make sense anymore. 

Back when I was an IDOT engineer, I spent quite a few years in design. I absolutely hated it. I wanted to be where the action was. Where things were actually being built. Where you can feel tangible progress. Where your work is seen and felt by the outside world. 

The design phase is hard. I have a tendency to fall into analysis paralysis, getting overwhelmed by seemingly endless variables and failing to make a decision because I want more information. Ideally, an imaginary piece of information that will make my decision obvious. 

Compared to design, construction is fun. You have a well conceived plan (hopefully) and your job is to put it into action. I much prefer the construction phase. Once I finally choose a direction, I’m usually pretty successful at making it happen. 

Living this new life of mine, it really does feel like there are endless variables on what to do with my life. And I’m still not clear what my objective is. I suppose happiness is always a good objective. It can also be an elusive one though.

A lot of people mistake pleasure for happiness. Pleasure is easy to come by for people with high financial resources. But constantly chasing pleasure leaves you feeling empty and dissatisfied. Life isn’t about pleasure. Thankfully that’s a lesson I didn’t need wealth to teach me. That’s a dark path that can steal years from a person and I’m grateful that I wasn’t lost on that path. 

I think purpose is a much better path towards happiness. Before my accident, my purpose was clear. Get a job that paid me well enough to support a family but didn’t leave me too exhausted to give love, energy and time to that family. Finding a compatible match to build that family with was my main objective and felt within reach at the time that fate delivered my accident. Almost seven years later and I’m still searching for my new purpose. I’m hoping this year of travel brings some clarity to the question. 

1/28/25

Sleeping with no agenda for the next day was incredible. My only task for the day was heading to the Apple Store and fixing my iPhone’s screen that fell victim to the ground at Steve Irwin’s Zoo. 

My mile walk to the Sydney Apple store was warmer than expected. New Zealand had been cool and comfortable so the 100 degree heat hit me hard. Hard enough that I built up a bit of a lather by the time I entered the Apple store.   

Getting my phone fixed was actually a big relief for me. I hate making mistakes and I certainly hate when mistakes are staring me in the face like my phone screen has been for the past few weeks. 

Speaking of mistakes/failures, the Sydney Tower Eye was right around the corner so I thought I could rectify another failure by popping up there. We tried to go up with my NYE crew but the crowds were too large and it was sold out. 

I waited in line for about twenty minutes before it was my turn to head up. During the wait, I remembered that I don’t care about these kinds of towers. Sure, they’re something to do to kill some time, especially if you’re with kids. So I got up to the top of the tower, took one lap around the observation deck, thoroughly unimpressed, and immediately went back down. I guess some failures are better left as failures.  

After the Eye excitement, I decided to head back to the hotel. When I arrived, it was happy hour so I decided to sit down, have a beer, pull out my laptop, and work on my blog (this actual entry). 

There was a family with 4 boys going crazy at happy hour and it served as a reminder that not having kids isn’t that bad. Mom was doing her best, dad was absent, and the kids were going NUTS. This went on for about 10 minutes before a staffer behind the bar decided she better help and brought out some 3D glasses and crayons to distract them and they finally calmed down.

1/29/25

Venting about Trump

It’s time for some more political venting. Skip ahead if you want. This is more for me than anyone else. 

I think it’s probably obvious that this Trump situation is really weighing on me. I was hoping to have a nice dinner tonight but my hatred for Trump and my anger towards his voters really hampered the experience. I know it’s not healthy to fixate on this stuff but I feel like I’m processing a trauma. That may seem dramatic to some, but I don’t think they understand what is happening. There’s a pretty big incentive to ignore it and just assume everything will be ok. You get to enjoy dinners by yourself taking that approach. 

Libby is right that my mental health would be better if I just left all the Trump bullshit in America and lived my life abroad in peace. I’m trying to do that. But it’s following me. It’s hard to escape something like that. Most things that require escape are difficult to escape from. It’s what makes escape necessary. But sometimes escape can be selfish and I don’t like being selfish. I don’t want to leave behind everyone who doesn’t have the privilege of escape. 

I don’t want to be like Ellen DeGeneres, who refuses to engage in politics because republicans watch talk shows too. She was unwilling to stand up for the rights of the LGBTQ community because she knew she could always just escape to the UK if those rights were taken away in America.   

So clearly, I’m still processing the election and my response to those who voted for Trump. Last night I posted a video of a guy explaining why we don’t want to be friends with people incapable of empathy. His voters have shown me a dark side of their soul that is difficult to unsee. 

While I did make the case against Trump to friends who seemed within reach, I didn’t tell anyone that his/her vote for Trump would damage our relationship to the degree it has. But I shouldn’t have to. And I don’t think it would have mattered. And I think it’s bogus to tell someone “vote how I say or you’re cut out of my life.” I think that action is warranted when the person votes for Nazis but that’s their choice to make. They’ll have to deal with the unforeseen consequences. 

They voted for hate. They voted for “retribution” and punishing their perceived enemies. Especially trans people. They want to attack the least powerful members of our society. So I don’t feel bad about cutting them out of my life. Not to punish them, but because they broke my heart and I don’t feel comfortable having people like that in my life. I feel complicit if I allow that behavior to continue without consequences. I am inconsequential in the big picture but I have to follow my morals and my morals tell me to put some distance between myself and those people. 

I think Nazi is a good place to draw the line. I didn’t know where the line was. I didn’t even know there was a line. But now I do. And too many people have crossed it for me to pretend like they didn’t. 

I can’t accept voting for a man who is calling for concentration camps and quoting Hitler’s worst notions like “poisoning the blood of our nation.” I can’t accept someone defending Elon’s seig heil. It’s clearly a nazi movement. 

I don’t like conflict and I don’t like hurting people but at a certain point enough is enough. I overlooked people calling Obama a Muslim Kenyan and in hindsight, that was a mistake. 

I don’t think I should worry about Trump voters’ feelings. But I do. Because it’s who I am. But on the other hand, they subscribed to a movement and ideology that proudly tells people “fuck your feelings.” 

I mean we have proof that they’d do it again. This isn’t the first time. They knew what they were voting for this time. Trump lied a lot in 2016. He was upfront about his plans in 2024. There’s no plausible deniability left. 

Dinner

When it was time for dinner, I opted to go to a sushi spot recommended to me by Nikki. The restaurant was named Sokyo. It was the lunar new year and they had some specials running. I love a good special and felt like being festive so I ordered the “PROSPERITY” option. I read the first line of the menu item and once it said “chef’s selection,” I stopped reading and ordered it. 

I thought the food was taking a while to get out and eventually the host came over and asked me about my order. She confirmed that I was by myself and asked if I really wanted the Lunar New Year platter because it serves 4 people and it’s huge. I didn’t even have a menu at this point so I ordered what she told me to, the standard sashimi platter. I thought $888 ($550 USD) was expensive but I just thought it was a fancy restaurant. 😂 I’m just happy I didn’t decide to buy the $300 ($185 USD) bottle of wine. I was just looking at the special Lunar New Year’s menu. 

It was a delicious meal. The language barrier exposed itself a couple of times but nothing bad. The original waitress didn’t speak very much English, hence the hostess having to come by and straighten me out. When the waiter brought out my food, he said some words I didn’t really hear/comprehend. I was really wondering what I was supposed to do with the blue bottle that looked like it was designed to be poured over something. Eventually a waiter who looked proficient in English (because he was white) came by and asked me if I wanted another glass of wine. I asked him what the deal with the blue bottle was and he informed me it was just to hold the dry ice for presentation. “It’s there to make the dish look cool.” I told him that it worked. A delicious but humbling dinner experience that left me feeling foolish at times. Lol. 

New Reality

After dinner I was walking back to my hotel and walked past a bar with a guitarist playing some classic rock. Always a fan of live music, I decided to pop in for a brew or two.

Having some time to myself, I ended up reflecting on this new reality I find myself in. My accident happened late enough in my life that my identity was already established. I still hold onto that identity. I still see myself like I saw myself before my accident. I usually dream with my old face. In my waking life, I forget that I don’t have my old face. But stares from strangers often remind me. 

When I see a girl looking at me, sometimes I wonder if she is checking me out. It’s what those looks meant for my first 31 years of life. But that’s rarely what those looks mean anymore. I have to remind myself of that, after the initial burst of intrigue fades. I say burst because it’s only there for a fraction of a second, if it comes at all, until I remember why she’s looking at me. Until I remember that I am wearing a new face. 

It’s really hard to learn the new social cues after you’ve gone through a transformation like mine. I’ve gotten much better at it but it was a difficult challenge for a few years. The first year or two, when I was getting a lot of attention from women, I was really confused if they were interested in me romantically or just wanting to support a wounded bird. 

Honestly, I’m still confused by some of those interactions. I think some of those women were confused themselves. Maybe they had some interest but they also had quite a few reservations. Or maybe I was just seeing what I wanted to see and there wasn’t any romantic interest at all. 

I miss my old face. I miss the old cues. I miss the possibility of a woman looking at me and feeling attraction. But what I really miss is the anonymity. I miss the ability to visit the Sydney Tower Eye or walk down the street without people stopping to give me a long visual inspection.   

When I was looking for apartments in Chicago, I quickly noticed that people there weren’t concerned with me or worried about what happened to me. They were busy living their own lives. That was an incredible relief. It felt like such a gift to just be a regular person again. I didn’t feel that way in Champaign, where I was one of thousands instead of one of millions. During the past month in Australia and New Zealand there have been plenty of reminders that some people view me as a spectacle, worthy of a long examination. 

Considering my new reality as a spectacle, should I adjust my expectations for romance? Should I lower my standards? It’s an interesting question. One that I’m not sure how to answer. But I can tell you how I’ve responded. 

Either through stubbornness or denial, I’ve been reluctant to lower my standards. I don’t think I need to. I’m comfortable living an independent life where I pursue my own goals and follow my own passions. I’d like to build a life with someone eventually but I spent too many years waiting for that person to come along. So now I’m going to spend some time living for myself. If someone comes along, great. If not, that’s fine too. I’ll be busy doing my own thing and living my life. 

Occasionally I think about the price of admission to this life. It was a steep cost. I don’t talk about the cost because I don’t like showing vulnerability. And at this point, I’ve already paid the cost and come to terms with it. Sure, there are still some expenses/disadvantages but they pale in comparison to the cost of that mortgage. 

I live a good life now. I think I owe it to myself to live a good life. I think I owe it to the people who have helped me along the way too. I’m trying to play the cards that I’ve been dealt as well as I can. I’m trying to maximize the opportunities that fate has provided me. It’s not always an easy hand to play but I’m still paying my ante and seeing what cards I’ll be dealt next. 

Despite my large stack, I still struggle spending so much money on myself. My first 31 years taught me to be frugal and always sacrifice today for a better tomorrow. But what if tomorrow has finally arrived? Is it silly to beat myself up over small expenses? Well small expenses in my new life. Substantial expenses in my old life. 

I suppose I’m holding onto my economic identity the same way I’m holding onto other pieces of my identity. While I’m in a different tax bracket these days, I still spent 35 of my 38 years without capital gains. A person doesn’t change overnight. I’m still adjusting to splurging on things like first class airline seats. Except it’s not really a splurge for me in this new life. While I still feel uneasy spending on luxuries like first class, it is quickly becoming my new standard. It turns out that luxuries are easy to adjust to.

1/30/25

Another day of relaxing, planning, and eating well. I started with a late lunch at another restaurant Nikki recommended, Social Brew Cafe. I had breakfast there the day before and enjoyed it so much that I had to come back today for lunch.

Paying your bill is slightly different in Sydney as you walk up to the counter yourself. I almost forget this step and as I was walking away I thanked my waitress which triggered the realization “Oh shit. I still have to pay.” The waitress was very nice about it and told me that it happens all the time. I’m not sure if that’s true or if she was just trying to make me feel better. Lol

Paul came down to Sydney for a nice dinner at The Little Snail. After that we hit a couple bars before heading back to my hotel and watching some Brooklyn Nine-Nine before calling it a night.