I wrote this while at the Fargo Airport waiting for my flight at 4am on Sunday May 31. This was my initial reaction upon changing my flight to leave a day and a half early from the 2015 MisFitCon.
What I learned from MisFitCon 2015 is that I am not this.
I am not an artist (upon saying this to my roommate she told me I was and I had to explain that I don’t want to make money from making art). I don’t want to be a photographer or to travel or to save the world. I really don’t. I’m betting on someone else doing that.
None of the notes that I took over the two days of speakers have any meaning to me anymore. Well one does, “You don’t need a business plan”.
This entire week has been a waste. Yes I met people, had some fun here and there, but I would have felt the same, if not happier, today if I had stayed home and went to work.
These are not my people or my lifestyle. I don’t want to save the world, or be my own boss, or working weird random hours that probably add up to more then 40 hours a week.
I don’t WANT to save the world.
None of these people make me any happier. None of them inspire me to do better. I want to make videos and write the truth. I want to work on small projects, one page WordPress sites or photos by request.
I want to downsize and simplify my site.
I want to be paleo again. I want to spend time with meaningful people. I want to burn bridges. I want to blow them up. (Another quote that means something to me from the trip).
I want orange juice.
I don’t want to be known as a photographer or a web developer.
MisFits showed me what I don’t want to be.
As nice as some of the people were, MisFitCon is not me anymore. I felt out of place. I felt like I was faking it to make it as one of them.
I was originally suppose to leave on Monday but while watching the Minimalist documentary I decided I was done with it. I had more important things then to sit in Fargo with people I don’t feel connected with. That doesn’t mean I didn’t enjoy their company, it just means that I don’t feel apart of their group because I’m not a Misfit.
I changed my flight to leave Sunday morning and came home. The talks were good, but sort of all along the same line, and the people were nice and some welcoming but I was done with the conference and with the town that I once loved so much. So I put my self first and stopped faking it, packed my stuff, went to one last good friendly dinner, and left town without goodbyes. As the cab took me to the airport, the party was probably still going for some, the street lights were all on and it was a perfect time for me to slip out.