I’ve always had a fondness for the “Gypsy” lifestyle or maybe the “Stereotypical Gypsy” lifestyle. When I was younger my parents watched a lot of the old TV westerns like Bonanza and Big Valley. There was always that one episode where a band of Gypsies came through and got blamed for stealing one thing or another. What I always found so enjoyable about them was the travelling, never really having a place to call home except wherever you stayed at the time, the music and the dancing, big flashy horses, and loud obnoxious women with long, dark hair and bare feet.
Not that I was obsessed with Gypsies by any means but as I grew up certain parts of the Gypsy life rang very clear to me. My family moved several times throughout my childhood, to the point that I have a hard time giving the name of my hometown because I don’t feel like I have one. When I graduated high school I moved off my parents place and into the college dorms, after the dorms I bounced back and forth between apartments in a couple different towns. I never really felt settled anywhere. As I had grown up I had a place in mind, a place where I knew from the age of 5 that I had to belong, and that was Texas. So, the majority of my youth was spent trying to get there.
Now, as of June 20, 2015 I have lived in Texas for 55 days.
At the age of 23 I can say that moving to Texas was the biggest, craziest, most thrilling adventure I’ve ever taken on. I can also say that it gave me a real taste for big adventures and there will be many more in my future.