You know that old adage of how multiple demands on your time all happen at the same time, leaving you a tad tired at the end of it? The last two months have been one such phase with extra demands at work, home, physical goals for the year and voila, even ideas and passions. For someone who can handle only one thing at a time, this was kinda overwhelming.
As these two months wind down, I feel the need for a vacation. Not travel, mind you, with its accompanying plans and research and excitement and intensity. Just a vacation. A view of the hills somewhere. Or in these parts, a beach, I’ll take that for now too. Someplace familiar, where I’ve already been before. To turn off my alarm and wake up at lunchtime. To sit on a balcony (or a beach) and read/eat/nap, rinse & repeat. To write not about the place and my impressions of it, but about bigger goals and ideals, or maybe just what I had for lunch. To figure out answers to lingering mid-life questions, or maybe what to have for dinner. Now all this sounds great in print, but herein lies a wrenching identity crisis that I’m not able to elucidate yet. Is this here to stay? Or will it pass when someone wakes me up when October ends?