Monday, April 10, 2006

The Inspiration Dryeth Up

While it's true that I can usually muster up the nerve to complain about anything -- too little work, too much work, too many men sniffing around, too few coming to call, having too many clothes spilling out of my two foot by two foot closet, having absolutely nothing appropriate to wear, ever (all of these are current, if completely contradictory, complaints, somehow) -- lately, I have been unable to even scrape together enough inspiration to come up with one measly blog post. Which, of course, normally consist about me bitching about one of the above. This is not because I've been trying to ACCentuate the positive (though, I have -- not that I can ever trick myself into it for long; guess it's just not in my nature).

I'm tired, people. I need to go live in a tent for awhile. This is something I haven't done since, oh, I don't know, 2003, when I made an all-too-brief escape from New York to go muck around and climb big walls in the deserts of Mexico. Oh sure, since then, I've had vacations -- adventures, even. I've traveled on four continents -- sometimes not even on my own dime. (See, I told you I could find room to bitch about anything.) This winter I spent some great long weekends in Vail and Denver and Salt Lake for some fairly incredibly snowboarding. But those trips were exhausting! Redeye flights, rushed visits to 37 friends in two-day spans, etc. I think to really recharge my batteries I need to get away from the dadgum internet, the cellphone, the desks, the fluorescent lights that are sapping my soul of its joy and freedom and the new experiences it takes to remind me I'm alive, if only for this short time. (Again, I'm a freelancer, and I'm bitching about freedom. It's truly amazing! Then again, no one's paying me to take vacation. Staffers don't have it all bad...).

I normally find New YOrk pretty inspiring, but I'm starting to feel like I did that time back in 2000. I had lived in New York City for about nine months and NOT ONCE had I left the boroughts of Manhattan or Brooklyn. Lacking a car, I one day hopped the Staten Island ferry and walked around in St. George, blissfully trespassing on people's lawns so I could feel the grass beneath my feet, and seeking out the neareset Subway so I could return to my roots and experience the quiet normalcy of visiting a shitty strip mall. I felt cooped up and sick of the money grubbing and out of touch with nature.

Obviously, I need to get out of here for awhile. Calgon, take me away.

Dont' worry, I"m sure my mood will improve tomorrow after I go to the gym. I'm sure you're all relieved.

2 Comments:

Blogger Guy said...

Don't fret. At least your stapler doesn't hate your guts.

10:42 AM  
Blogger Mike said...

Vaycay does a body good.

2:53 PM  

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