I sometimes wonder how life would have turned out if I didn’t have climbing. It takes you to places. You share memories, food, beds, gear, even toilet paper.
Dad always said that I should study to become an engineer. Seriously! Me, an engineer? I barely managed math in junior high.
It ended up with me forging my grades and applying anyway. Once I got in. I dropped of my second year. Why? I was bored out of my mind. I got a job instead. Kasching! Finally I could afford to buy my own climbing gear, and not scavenge in the lost and found bin at the local gym. It’s hard to find the right size for both feet. I tell you that much.
So, I walk up to the old man and ask.
Now what dad?
“You should find a woman, one who can cook food!”
Right. A woman who can cook food. They don’t grow of trees. Not in a town where the average woman only eats salads swallowed down with a none-fat-soya-triple-caffeine free-latte with chocolate sprinkles.
Anyhow. I found a woman. We did not live happily ever after. I’ll tell you that much.
I did the cooking. She… umh, took care of her needs. On her own! C’mon.
So. I got bored. And extremely horny.
- Daddy. Got a plan B?
- Go to India and find yourself.
Yey. Let’s go to India and find ourselves, and learn how to take a shit behind a rock because we can’t eat clean food. Let’s not to that!
So. Work harder. Climb more. Get strong. Learn to use them feet.
The pressure we put on our selves each day, it’s not good for the soul.
On every workplace there is always a brownnose who thinks there so much better that you. In my case it was a woman with huge knockers. HUGE!
For some reason, could have been my starring, she wanted me removed from the team. That fucking bitch.
My boss calls me up one day, and I could hear it in his voice. So I beat him to the punch.
“Yeah whatever. I quit”
- Yes my boy.
- I quit my job today.
- Are you stupied? Haven’t I taught you better? Does your mother know about this? How are you going to pay rent? What are you going to do now? Do you have another job? Do you….
And his voice just faded away while I was thinking what I complete fool I’ve been. More pressure.
- Speak boy!
- Well, what is your plan?
- Yep. Amsterdam.
A week later I find myself sitting in a coffee shop, in Amsterdam, sipping on a real latte inhaling secondary smoke while writing down my thoughts on life in general. You know that feeling when you don’t feel any pressure what so ever? You feel as calm as a hindu cow. That’s me, there, in Amsterdam, inhaling organic substances.
No pressure. But still, very horny. That part worked out fine in the end.