Yesterday, when filling out my juror questionaire, I had to write my ‘hobbies.’ (Who has time for hobbies???) This is always hard, as all I can ever think of is ‘you know, living my life’ and ‘thinking things’ and ‘doing stuff’ and then there’s also writing plays, and then I feel like a one-dimensional person for not ALSO being into wildlife or pottery, so I usually add ‘ scrapbooking’ and ‘bike-riding’ and ‘travel.’
But: this idea of travel being a hobbie of Mine. Hmm. I do love going places once I get there. But everything before and after makes me nauseous. See the new few months: NEXT WEEK I’m going to San Fransisco and LA, and then a few weeks after, I’m going to London for a week. And I am already getting nervous feelings involving getting to and from the airport, $, the play things themselves that are happening while I’m there, $ again, missing working, feelings of guilt for missing work, etc. I try and defeat these nervous feelings with the excitement of going, and being there. But when I am somewhere else, on a vacation of sorts, it is always a constant battle for me, to supress angst with the Joy of Travel. This is hard. Unless you’re in Mexico, or the Catskills. Or so I’ve learned.