Where I Hang My Hat

Well, after 12 days away and 7 days back, I can definitively say that I am NOT happy to be home. I started reading a book of collected letters from Charles Bukowski during my flight back, and I don't think it's a good sign that I'm actually relating to some of them. When you look at one of Buk's drunken, self-destructive, anti-social rants and think this guy makes a lot of sense, you're probably not enjoying your life all that much.

Which is true. One of the main reasons I travel alone is the escape factor. It's not only getting away from work and responsibility, it's just time away from life in general. If I don't want to talk to anyone, I don't. If I don't want to do anything but drink wine or walk along a canal, that's all I do. There's something very freeing, very relaxing about it. There's not really any soul-searching going on, I'm just letting my brain be quiet for once. When I blog things like This beer is tasty, or It sucks that it's raining, those are truly the most meaningful things going through my brain at the time. And that can be glorious.

So, I am continuing the pattern of escape. I've already booked my next trip, leaving in 6 weeks. I have so many places that I want to visit, but not enough vacation time or money to get to them all. I saw a good deal for one of the spots on my list this morning, and I jumped on it!

Where am I off to? I'll give you a hint.

Except I already gave it up on Twitter, so it's not really a mystery anyway. Shrug.