In My Perfect World
I need a vacation. Not a long weekend in LA, or flying across the country to spend time with the 'rental unit and whatever grandparents aren't dead or lost. A real vacation.
In my perfect world, I lay outside on a hammock that faces the Atlantic Ocean, a bottle of Poland Spring by my side, a magazine on my stomach, book in my hands, a soft, thin blanket thrown over me. It doesn't need to be green.
It's one of those books that's the tiniest bit beyond me. Not completely out of my mental reach, but one that pushes me to stretch my brain. All the people I admire are behind me somewhere, in a house, drinking or listening to obscure music I've never heard of before that I will come to love. When I don't understand something in my book I call one of them out to my hammock.
"Do you think I'm like Ann in my friendships?"
"What's your stance on mandatory counseling before being given a marriage licence?"
And my friends will tell me their thoughts, and explain them. They will explain all the big words I don't know. We will argue and disagree and eventually agree to disagree. I will have them write down their deep thoughts in a notebook for me to look at later. They will never get frustrated with me for not knowing so much, and I will not be too ashamed to ask all my many questions, even when I have to ask four times what the same word means.
When I'm tired of all the reading, I will oh-so-gracefully slide off the hammock and walk along the water. When I'm just plain tired I will sit in the sand and watch the ocean, thinking more deep thoughts, and letting all the negative float away into the waves.
And when I'm tired of drinking only Poland Spring .... just kidding, we all know that's not even possible!
At night I will fall asleep to the sound of people telling me stories from their life. How they met their spouses, when they called the operator as a toddler to see what would happen, how they broke their arm, anything. I hate hearing people read out loud - it makes me want to punch someone in the face. But true stories told by real people? I love falling asleep to someone telling me their real stories.
This is what I need. When I go home, and return to reality, I will be a calmer person due to all my new insights, and secure in my knowledge. I will know that this day-to-day crap is all bullshit.
The real reality though, is that all this bullshit is my life. And right now life is kicking my ass.
In my perfect world, I lay outside on a hammock that faces the Atlantic Ocean, a bottle of Poland Spring by my side, a magazine on my stomach, book in my hands, a soft, thin blanket thrown over me. It doesn't need to be green.
It's one of those books that's the tiniest bit beyond me. Not completely out of my mental reach, but one that pushes me to stretch my brain. All the people I admire are behind me somewhere, in a house, drinking or listening to obscure music I've never heard of before that I will come to love. When I don't understand something in my book I call one of them out to my hammock.
"Do you think I'm like Ann in my friendships?"
"What's your stance on mandatory counseling before being given a marriage licence?"
And my friends will tell me their thoughts, and explain them. They will explain all the big words I don't know. We will argue and disagree and eventually agree to disagree. I will have them write down their deep thoughts in a notebook for me to look at later. They will never get frustrated with me for not knowing so much, and I will not be too ashamed to ask all my many questions, even when I have to ask four times what the same word means.
When I'm tired of all the reading, I will oh-so-gracefully slide off the hammock and walk along the water. When I'm just plain tired I will sit in the sand and watch the ocean, thinking more deep thoughts, and letting all the negative float away into the waves.
And when I'm tired of drinking only Poland Spring .... just kidding, we all know that's not even possible!
At night I will fall asleep to the sound of people telling me stories from their life. How they met their spouses, when they called the operator as a toddler to see what would happen, how they broke their arm, anything. I hate hearing people read out loud - it makes me want to punch someone in the face. But true stories told by real people? I love falling asleep to someone telling me their real stories.
This is what I need. When I go home, and return to reality, I will be a calmer person due to all my new insights, and secure in my knowledge. I will know that this day-to-day crap is all bullshit.
The real reality though, is that all this bullshit is my life. And right now life is kicking my ass.
posted by Green at 1/03/2007 08:25:00 PM
5 Comments:
It was like a mini vacationjust reading it. Very nice.
Except the dismount was a little tough...
ah...that was lovely. can i come on this vacation? i, too, have a deep hatred for listening to people read out loud, but a deep love of real stories. oh, and i'm back. =)
loved it!
Awww, Green. That was cool. I would love to carry your (book)bags on that trip.
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