Monday, November 24, 2008

Motel

Motel


If there is a way to summarize how a trip feels like it would be surreal. Not this trip. Any trip. Any trip that carries you to far-off lands, that brings foreign sounds to your ears, that changes the air you breathe. Small things that say, "I don't think this is Kansas anymore," I realized that I've been in one place so long that I didn't know I was missing the feeling of being on the move. I miss airports. I miss the adrenaline that keeps me awake even on those red-eye flights. I miss the taste of the ultra-sanitized seats. I miss jet-lags, and staying up to watch nothing play on TV. i miss motion.

Stability, however, has allowed me a chance to learn maintenance. I realized that distance does not make my heart grow fonder. Instead, I learned as a teen that disconnecting with people once they are removed from my immediate surroundings is easier. Everybody does, I think. Sometimes it is easier to stop calling than wondering why they won't call back. My detachment probably makes it easy for others to leave me as well, but that bothers me less than it should.



We're so occupied with protecting ourselves. It's just smart, I guess. I wonder if this cleverness is stopping me from meeting someone who's worth meeting.