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So, I have decided to attempt to demonstrate that it doesn’t have to be that way.

There are many ways that I could go about this. I could work my way through years and years of school, and when the time came for me to write my dissertation, I could turn my teachings into a book worthy of being published about the science of change or the science of attitude. I would write a comma and PhD next to my name on the cover and, based on my experience, people would know that whatever I had to say was inevitably true.

I could become the subject of a psychological case study on change that would highlight the importance of adopting a new way of thinking. I would find myself at the mercy of one of those aforementioned PhDs, hoping that he or she knew enough to use my talents—or lack thereof—productively.

Or, I could take matters into my own hands. And that’s what I have decided to do. I have had the idea in my pocket, itching to come out, a plan that I have been toying with since high school. And now that I am fresh out of college, broke, and bordering on homelessness anyway, it seems like as good a time as any to let it out.

Here’s my premise:

I am going to start almost literally from scratch with one 8' × 10' tarp, a sleeping bag, an empty gym bag, $25, and the clothes on my back. Via train, I will be dropped at a random place somewhere in the southeastern United States outside of my home state of North Carolina. I have 365 days to become free of the realities of homelessness and become a “regular” member of society. After one year, for my project to be considered successful, I have to possess an operable automobile, live in a furnished apartment (alone or with a roommate), have $2,500 in cash, and, most importantly, I have to be in a position in which I can continue to improve my circumstances by either going to school or starting my own business.

There are a few ground rules that I need to establish in an effort to keep some critics at bay. On paper, my previous life doesn’t exist for this one year. I cannot use any of my previous contacts, my college education, or my credit history. For the sake of this project, I have a high school diploma, and I will have recently moved to my new town. Additionally, I cannot beg for money or use services that others are not at liberty to use.

Aside from illegally sleeping in a park or under a bridge, I am free to do whatever I need to do within the confines of the law in order to accomplish my goal.

Well, that all sounds simple enough. Now for a few disclaimers on my behalf.

First of all, I feel it is necessary to establish that I have no political affiliation—right wing, left wing, conservative, liberal, Republican, or Democrat. For the next year, they’re all the same to me. Socioeconomically speaking, my story is a rebuttal to Barbara Ehrenreich’s Nickel and Dimed1 and Bait and Switch,2 the books that speak on the death of the American Dream. With investigative projects of her own, Ehrenreich attempted to establish that working stiffs are doomed to live in the same disgraceful conditions forever. I resent that theory, and my story is a search to evaluate if hard work and discipline provide any payoff whatsoever or if they are, as Ehrenreich suggests, futile pursuits.

Second, I am not an author or a journalist. I only mention this to establish that my intent in this project is not to produce a divine work of literature where carefully comprised prose dances sublimely off the page. I’m just a regular guy, so whatever you read is straight from my thoughts to the paper. In a way, I believe that my untapped mind will add to the value of my writing. After all, I’m going into this without drawing conclusions or stereotypes about the people I expect to meet along my journey, which will hopefully lead to unbiased reporting.

Third, it is important to note that evaluators of this project are going to call me on all sorts of technicalities. Whether it is the absence of a family to tend to (as may be the case for many in the real world living