Today's Cliche: I'm a little uninspired by my job(s) and listless direction.
How unfair is it that we spend the majority of the waking hours of each waking week of our waking lives doing things that are uninspiring? By 'we' I'm assuming that I correctly infer a majority, save a select few: like the guys on The Buried Life. They probably aren't included in that lot.
Yes, I did just allude to an MTV miniseries documentary that I've been unconventionally obsessed with. The simplest idea and a quote we've heard a million times, "Live each day as if it were your last" - And these guys are doing it. The result is kind of perfect: they meet new people, cross their goals off of a Bucket List one by one, and often times the process of getting what they dreamed of turns into a sucky full-time job. Yeah I wouldn't mind going to a party at the Playboy mansion, but waiting inside a wooden cake for 6 hours dressed as an oompa loompa is not my idea of a good time regardless of the outcome. Holler for perseverance. So as envious as I am in the 22 minute airtime of each show (more of their youthful drive and less Playboy bunnies), I realize if I truly did live every day as if it were my last, I would be homeless in a hot second. And perhaps have some broken bones....or an STD. I'm just saying!
Same goes for traveling I guess. And by same I mean wait for me to explain. Most everyone in my generation's radius is toting a BA degree in one hand, and a Euro/Latin American/study abroad Facebook photo album at their fingertips - many of us have more than one and I'm the guiltiest of them all. As easy as it is to be envious of those that are cruising the streets of Spain while you're sitting staring at [enter monotonous Microsoft Office program here], if you try very hard the subtle nuances of travel can make you appreciate your desk job. The ones you only hear about when you REALLY listen to someone's travel experience or sit around long enough for them to let out the whole truth. Long lines, getting lost, money stolen, great food which leads to prolonged toilet trips (pray you're not in India for that one), horrbile food too, more time spent with your travel companion(s) then the people who actually live in the country you're in, and inevitably one form of 'white guilt' or another.
But I have to admit, sometimes those moments where the only place you want to be is home in bed, are the times you remember most and make you truly stonger: my 22-hour train ride to Beijing, the pouring rain (and beer) during Carnaval in Brazil, getting lost outside of Prague in the Czech Republic, staying on a boat hostel in Amsterdam, or sleeping in a questionable-at-best hotel in Tokyo. Granted I just moved back from Australia 6 months ago, but I'm already itching for an adventure, something to look forward to.
Why do I want to go to Cuba?
To learn about and from the people, the history but also their daily lives. To see the country that is suspended in time (at least in my imagination) with its vintage cars and colonial architecture speckled with aged pealing paint. To experience the dancing, the Jazz, the rum - and I don't even like rum. And take pictures the whole time.
Cuba is a big challenge for me. It'll be the first trip I'm planning alone, saving for as a big girl while still paying for my apartment and bills etc. And there's the whole, it's kind of not allowed thing...But I've been reading up on it and its not a big enough threat to make me feel nervous. Hopefully Obama has my back. Cuba just feels somehow special.
And I want to be a more mature me when I go. There's so many photos I've missed out on because I didn't want to bother anyone with my camera, so many conversations I missed because I was self-conscious of my Spanish. I want to go and get it right. Even if 'right' means riddled with mistakes. Who's coming?
On a San Francisco Note: this city is amazing. Did a Saturday morning brunch and hike/jaunt through the Haight - Castro neighborhoods and Kristen, who is probably sick of being my model couture, led me to one of the most beautiful views I've seen in a long time. An adventure is always just around the corner in my dearest of cities.
Ended the arvo, nod to my Aussies,
with some mimosas at Dolores Park along side the hipsters bubble blowers and obnoxiously small dogs. Afternoon delight in the highest order.
Yeah, she saw me.
To end on several awkward personal notes:
- There is a mouse in my house. I'm not cool with it. And my landlord used my gourmet peanut butter that has thus far, only fed little mickey and not captured him. Unless he starts making ratatouille he has to go.
- I'm writing this blog by the light of an amish candle. No you didn't miss anything, I'm dead serious.
- I lost a friend this week. It blows, to simplify several teary nights. But I'm glad I'm finally cool with me. My biggest achievement, this week if not in 24 years, is being truly able to say, "I'm a good friend and person." and mean it despite what anyone says. Who knew that could be so hard?