It is a delicate balancing act, this growing up and cultivating wanderlust. You want to settle, like most statistics do, and be the grown up. But you also itch to go and see some reality that's beyond you and your limited philosophy, you want to walk to where you haven't--you never left being that curious third culture kid.
It's tough when your memories are like green benches on a strange map, not quite the way the world wants it to be, but a smattering of pushpins on a globe, labeled in words signalling never a destination, but a place to be.
Lately I dream of traveling. When I read, I look for information about places I've never been. The hills of Chantaburi. The steppes of Sikkim. The calm morning of Halong Bay. I enjoy being in the 900 stacks at the library, picking out names of countries, riffling through the pages, finding myself smiling at words like sentimental cobblestones and summer kimono.
I guess this new urge to wander is itself a wish for escape. My life is pretty much confined to work, weekend, then work again. I find myself taking on tasks I don't have to--adding more work to the pile already waiting for me, because...well--Why?
I think it is an escape, or a wish for it. When we travel we are a stranger to a place. We can be irresponsible, in the sense that the expectations of us do not go beyond moral courtesy and political correctness, and once in a while, we are drawn to compassion, or concern. But the anxieties present in daily living isn't there. If I want the sunrise, I get up early. But if I'm late, I suppose the sunrise isn't going to write a bad report about me for missing it.
I guess it's also because the work I pile for myself is my defense against loneliness. I find myself more and more isolated. My photog friends call me up for shoots, and I say Yes every time. Workshop? Sure! Drive for an hour to check out a location? Oh yes, please. Let's go. My responses are characteristic; I always drown in work and activity whenever I don't want to face myself inside.
So here I am, it's another weekend. And I am a little tired. But the schedule calls, and I will run to its demands. Because if I don't--perhaps the silence and empty spaces of my life will swim up to the surface and bite my heart.
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