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Dear friend —
Last month, I bought a new carry-on for $275 — the most money I’ve spent on a single piece of luggage. The purchase was made after much deliberation. I did, after all, already own a perfectly fine carry-on — bought cheap at Bed Bath and Beyond with a 20 percent off coupon — which had served me well during my last 16 months as a nomad. Why did I even need a new one?
But this new carry-on called to me. It was cute, compact, and came in bright colors. It had a 10-year warranty. It was made with recycled plastic. But more than anything, it was a closet-in-a-carry-on, its insides converting into a convenient hanging closet organizer, as illustrated by this handy video.
This is how I deliberate my purchases these days: I see an ad on Instagram that piques my interest. I watch it, save it. Instagram reacts by making more ads about that product pop up. Intrigued, I follow the company that makes the product. Now I start seeing the product all the time, and things go one of two ways: I get annoyed, unfollow, and excise the product from my feed — or I get increasingly obsessed with the product until I’m convinced I must have it.
What is it about a carry-on closet that proved so irresistible? There is, of course, the convenience factor, but the desire I felt for this piece of luggage was stronger than warranted by its utility. It’s as if I imagined that by buying it, I might access a different kind of life. I suppose that’s the magic of good advertising — It convinces us that the object advertised will not only serve some practical need but also transform our core selves in some magical way. In the case of the carry-on closet, the owner might suddenly morph into a busy but breezy jet-setting type. Someone who loves a life on the go and knows how to glide about the world — efficiently, casually, spontaneously.
But can buying anything after deliberating for months and coming up with a number of practical reasons to rationalize the purchase make one a more spontaneous person? Because that is, essentially, what I did. The final rationale that got me to click buy: Airline luggage restrictions have gotten stricter and stricter, making my existing carry-on technically too big for many flights even if most flight attendants let me slide through with it. So by getting this new carry-on closet that met all airline requirements, I would avoid stress and possibly even save money —
If you’re like me, you pingpong between two extremes: A desire to be more spontaneous, and a desire to be more deliberate. Often, I believe myself to be too much one or the other, even as I realize that doesn’t make sense. How can I be both too spontaneous and too deliberate?
Yet I have evidence for both sides. Some gigantic, life-changing decisions — like becoming a nomad, for example — I make on a whim with a reckless abandon that makes me wonder, giddily, if I may be having a manic episode. Others, I take a ridiculously long time to make, often reading a half dozen or more books on the topic before tabling the decision pending further rumination.
Do you too worry that you’re too much one way — and also its opposite? Are you too independent — and too needy? Too practical — and too dreamy? Too easily influenced by flashy Instagram ads — and too set in your obdurate, stodgy ways?
Not that it really matters, if any of us are too this or that. What does it mean to be too anything? Am I spontaneous or deliberate is not a question that can be asked in a vacuum — it’s a question that only comes up in comparison to others. Too-ness can be measured only against a setpoint of “normalcy” — an arbitrary setpoint that’s ultimately meaningless. It’s not as if by seeking some middle way we get more out of life. By this I mean that whichever way we go, we miss out on the flipside. Stick with one partner all your life and you can build a rich life together, but you miss out on other richnesses: newness, variety, singular freedoms. Flit about the globe and you embrace a wider swath of cultural experiences — but you miss out on the experience of building a rich community of people who’ve known you all your life. Live spontaneously and you have more unexpected adventures — but you forego the pleasures of reflection, of looking forward to planned events.
Is it better to live spontaneously or deliberately? Depending on whom you ask, you’ll get different answers.
This is a very long preamble to an announcement: I’ve decided to continue my nomad life for at least another year, this time going international! In about ten days, I and my carry-on closet will be leaving California to visit twelve fun countries spread over four different continents — staying in each place roughly a month — returning to the U.S. in October 2022.
The trip’s planned courtesy of Remote Year. I signed up for this digital nomad program after seeing — you guessed it — an Instagram ad, then deliberating for about a day before clicking apply.
First stop, Lima.
Love,
Siel
Three links you might love
If you really love Excel, you can travel a lot for nearly nothing. A travel hacker flies all over staying at nice places for way cheaper than living in a shitty apartment in L.A.
It’s not too late to travel solo. Women in their 60s are doing it. “As a child, Charlotte Simpson and her family were excluded from many hotels in the deep south. Now she has visited more than 80 countries.”
Have packing tips for a year of international nomad life? Send them to me. So far I’ve figured out what clothes to back based on this Remote Year alum’s blog post.