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[Prompted by Knight's post-Paris reflections]
Because I've displayed a penchant for extended and somewhat ambitious/outré itineraries in the past, I'm often asked where I plan to hare off to next. For various boring reasons (refilling the flying pig bank chief among them), I don't expect to head overseas again until 2015 or beyond, although the BYM and I may well celebrate our 20th wedding anniversary (!) by heading over the border to Vancouver. On va voir. There will be some weekend jaunts to various spots in the Southeast, and possibly a longer solo trip to Asheville and/or Charleston next spring.
Staying home contains elements of both discontent and relief for me. I love my man, my bed, my dog, my house, and my 'hood, all beyond reason, and lord knows there's plenty to do here. I sleep better, eat more vegetables, and eventually get to some of the things on the "things to take care of once I'm back home" lists I compile while I'm away. I fully relax when I know the man or the dog are between me and the rest of the world (because, as much I enjoy being alone to a fault, there's also the part of me that hasn't forgotten getting attacked by a stranger in a library [yes, a library] when I was twenty-one and thus won't let me completely let up my guard in unfamiliar surroundings, even when they happen to be nice hotel rooms with deadbolts in nice neighborhoods).
But getting away has proven to be good for my brain: the uncertainty and frustration that frequently accompanies with living out of a suitcase and navigating different routes and having to reach x by y-day is more than balanced by the thrill of everything being at least slightly strange and wondrous. On the road, I tend to make more of a point of exercising and finding more time to write. I read books I don't get around to here at home (although I invariably also bring home books I then take years to get to).
On the road, it's easier to give myself permission to splurge on clothing and trinkets and meals. I sometimes get the haircut I've been putting off, or a massage. I like trying things I'm not sure I'm going to like among people I don't know, because it takes the pressure off (the first Unitarian Universalist service I attended was during a business trip to Denver; the first time I went contradancing was at the Grey Eagle; the only time I've tried aqua aerobics so far was during a conference in Florida).
Earlier this year, I was making a point of staying offline from sundown Friday to sundown Saturday. There are boring reasons why I've remained on the grid this past month, but I'm hoping to resume the practice in July. It does something akin to travel for my brain and my sense of time: I write more. I read more. I relearn words or pick up new ones. I make lists of what I'll do once I'm back online, but I also see things through the lens of "this day is different."
(The thing is, I'm a freelancer and a publishing industry professional: I read and write all the time already. Theologically and logistically, I could see every day as holy, and when I remember this, I try to. But, being also a fruitbat, I have to keep getting the apple moved around so that I can stumble into its sweetness anew.
...And I'm pretty sure that stretch toward a metaphor didn't work. That's my brain coming up for air and saying, enough with the [semblance of] deep thoughts, it's time to float again toward sleep.)
(Sign seen in Dublin, 2011. Where on earth to begin...?)
Because I've displayed a penchant for extended and somewhat ambitious/outré itineraries in the past, I'm often asked where I plan to hare off to next. For various boring reasons (refilling the flying pig bank chief among them), I don't expect to head overseas again until 2015 or beyond, although the BYM and I may well celebrate our 20th wedding anniversary (!) by heading over the border to Vancouver. On va voir. There will be some weekend jaunts to various spots in the Southeast, and possibly a longer solo trip to Asheville and/or Charleston next spring.
Staying home contains elements of both discontent and relief for me. I love my man, my bed, my dog, my house, and my 'hood, all beyond reason, and lord knows there's plenty to do here. I sleep better, eat more vegetables, and eventually get to some of the things on the "things to take care of once I'm back home" lists I compile while I'm away. I fully relax when I know the man or the dog are between me and the rest of the world (because, as much I enjoy being alone to a fault, there's also the part of me that hasn't forgotten getting attacked by a stranger in a library [yes, a library] when I was twenty-one and thus won't let me completely let up my guard in unfamiliar surroundings, even when they happen to be nice hotel rooms with deadbolts in nice neighborhoods).
But getting away has proven to be good for my brain: the uncertainty and frustration that frequently accompanies with living out of a suitcase and navigating different routes and having to reach x by y-day is more than balanced by the thrill of everything being at least slightly strange and wondrous. On the road, I tend to make more of a point of exercising and finding more time to write. I read books I don't get around to here at home (although I invariably also bring home books I then take years to get to).
On the road, it's easier to give myself permission to splurge on clothing and trinkets and meals. I sometimes get the haircut I've been putting off, or a massage. I like trying things I'm not sure I'm going to like among people I don't know, because it takes the pressure off (the first Unitarian Universalist service I attended was during a business trip to Denver; the first time I went contradancing was at the Grey Eagle; the only time I've tried aqua aerobics so far was during a conference in Florida).
Earlier this year, I was making a point of staying offline from sundown Friday to sundown Saturday. There are boring reasons why I've remained on the grid this past month, but I'm hoping to resume the practice in July. It does something akin to travel for my brain and my sense of time: I write more. I read more. I relearn words or pick up new ones. I make lists of what I'll do once I'm back online, but I also see things through the lens of "this day is different."
(The thing is, I'm a freelancer and a publishing industry professional: I read and write all the time already. Theologically and logistically, I could see every day as holy, and when I remember this, I try to. But, being also a fruitbat, I have to keep getting the apple moved around so that I can stumble into its sweetness anew.
...And I'm pretty sure that stretch toward a metaphor didn't work. That's my brain coming up for air and saying, enough with the [semblance of] deep thoughts, it's time to float again toward sleep.)
(Sign seen in Dublin, 2011. Where on earth to begin...?)
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Date: 2013-06-16 10:51 am (UTC)From:The thing is, I'm a freelancer and a publishing industry professional: I read and write all the time already. Theologically and logistically, I could see every day as holy, and when I remember this, I try to. But, being also a fruitbat, I have to keep getting the apple moved around so that I can stumble into its sweetness anew.
Boy howdy, does it. :-)