As I sat feeding the croutons from my salad to the birds, in Barcelona, I
found myself returning yet again to the thought of what am I doing with my
time? And maybe the real questions should be what am I supposed to be doing
with my time? What does everyone else do while on vacation? The Spanish like to
say that they work to live, where as we (us North Americans) live to work. I
think there is some truth to that. With no job in my life I find myself
wondering what to do every day. Like just wandering cities isn’t enough for me.
Like I need some sort of purpose in life, which work gives me to help hide the
fact at thirty I still have no idea what I am
doing with my life.
What is my reason for travelling? Do I think one day I’m going to arrive
in a city and suddenly find my purpose? Wouldn’t that be nice! But I’m not
pinning my dreams on that. If I claim I travel to enrich my life then going on
the piss constantly wouldn’t exactly be enriching now would it. Causal sex with
strangers probably isn’t top of the charts for maintaining a healthy lifestyle.
It would be a lie if I said casual sex with strangers didn’t give me an ego
boost. But then I guess you can question if I’m really just using casual sex to
find a connection with someone deeper than a conversation. How many
travel-ationships did I have when I was in South America? And it’s not just
when I’m traveling that my relationships follow the same structure. Short lived
and way too intense. How many men filled a void I deny having? Maybe I need
that, and maybe Tompers just isn’t quite enough. All of this travelling is
making me realize on thing. It’s nearly time to settle down, and get a pup.
Could I commit the next 15 years of my life to something?
So what am I doing? I haven’t
a clue.
No comments:
Post a Comment