Not-So-Travelling Blues vs. Adulting
I outsided for lunch, and the weather was nice enough - overcast, humid, mildly windy, Michigan springlike here in Virginia. I used to feel this restlessness in the spring as a kid. While I sat quietly in class, or in front of the TV, or up a tree somewhere, I was fighting an exasperating urge to fly away. I flew in dreams, seated but not with wings, hovering over my neighborhood streets.
I want to skip class right now.
I can't fly away at this time. My day job is busy; I have assignments to complete. My cat is huggy ever since I came home from Dogville, and she'll be devastated if I leave her again so soon. She still doesn't want me to pick her up, but if I'm prone she lies on my back and snuggles me with her head and one paw.
I need to change something, and I am not sure whether I mean a temporary change or permanent. I feel so itchy on the inside. I recognise that point at which I tend to "fly off the handle" and I don't want to do that. But what do I want to change, though? How do I scratch the itch?
There's probably a chemical behind this feeling. I don't think it's caused by any of the traumas I've experienced in my life, but probably each of them exacerbated the chemical reaction until I felt like it was normal to just pick up and move every few years like a proper Scots-Irish American. Moving now (like to Scotland) would be awesome, but I also want to be responsible - no, seriously, I really want it. If you've met me, this may surprise you.
Also, the definition of "adventure" needs to be examined. It doesn't require physical relocation, does it? It requires eclipsing boundaries. It requires financial planning, and maybe a bungee cord to yank me back should I stretch too far.
I'll figure out what to do with the inner kid so she doesn't upend my life. Scotland can wait a bit.