The journey vs. the destination
So many people make the destination out to be the fun part in their adventures. Unfortunately, this means that they miss out on a lot of fun things along the way. Tonight I decided to embrace my inner free spirit and make the journey the fun part.
Tonight I took myself out for dinner, just Dr. Nbook and me. It was great fun, too. I had no idea where I wanted to go, so I just grabbed Dr. Nbook and my phone before heading out the door, figuring that I'd find a place to go. For now, though, I just wanted to wander and let my wondrous self take over.
You get some odd reactions when you're traveling alone, even in town. Some people think you're doing it because you don't have friends to travel with you. Others wonder why on earth you'd want to go alone and miss potential company when you can go with friends and have guaranteed company. One thing I've noticed is that when I travel with friends, I tend to wander. I can't stay in a pack. It's against my nature. Besides, we all know that people are more likely to approach one person than a pack of people. (Don't we all know this so well from our middle school/high school experiences?) I have a problem, though. I enjoy company, but when I'm in a new place, I enjoy wandering so I can explore the whole place alone. This way I can explore the place without other people putting their opinions in the place before I can form my own.
Tonight my path was based on traffic, intuition, and shiny objects. I saw parents chasing children, a concert on the square, some first-year Scotties heading somewhere else, and old couples walking down the street hand-in-hand. This old couple struck me especially deeply. Maybe it was because Aunt Amy died earlier this week. Another part of me, though, wondered what it would be like to love someone for that long and still have something new to talk about. This intrigues me greatly.
I arrived at Crescent Moon after taking a long way there, ordered, and by the time the waitress arrived with my lemonade and gave me a few more minutes to look over the menu, I had already written a page, part of which you've already read if you read the first part of this entry. When she came back, she was surprised to see how much I had already written. "I had forgotten that you had never ordered, and then I was like, 'Ohmigod, she's already written a page!'" she told me when she came to my table. This amused me greatly. I was also amused that she offered me the wine selection, especially since I don't consider myself to be particularly mature-looking. Maybe Dr. Nbook's appearance did it.
On the way back I heard someone playing a saxophone. I could have gone straight back to Agnes, but the saxophone reminded me of Jeffrey, as much as he annoyed me over the summer (though not with his saxophone). So I followed the noise. A man who for some reason reminded me of Stephen King in appearance was playing the saxophone. His case on open on the ground; I could see several bills in it. After he stopped playing, I talked to him for a few minutes about artistic expression. His was music; mine was writing. Before I left, though, we started talking about how we see the world and how our own views of the world can cloud everything in it. If we look only at the bad things, then that's all we're going to see. There's so much good in the world; why don't we look for it?
This evening started as an adventure of my own creation, but I'm glad to see that because it was my own creation, I let others have a positive hand in it as well. Isn't that what life is?
**
Also, I have so much work to do this weekend that it's not funny. I probably won't be around much. Or I will be because I'll be procrastinating. Which reminds me, we have a French test on Wednesday assuming the syllabus hasn't changed.
...And how do you get tested in a literature class? Maybe that's me being naive, but it's a valid question, je crois.
Tonight I took myself out for dinner, just Dr. Nbook and me. It was great fun, too. I had no idea where I wanted to go, so I just grabbed Dr. Nbook and my phone before heading out the door, figuring that I'd find a place to go. For now, though, I just wanted to wander and let my wondrous self take over.
You get some odd reactions when you're traveling alone, even in town. Some people think you're doing it because you don't have friends to travel with you. Others wonder why on earth you'd want to go alone and miss potential company when you can go with friends and have guaranteed company. One thing I've noticed is that when I travel with friends, I tend to wander. I can't stay in a pack. It's against my nature. Besides, we all know that people are more likely to approach one person than a pack of people. (Don't we all know this so well from our middle school/high school experiences?) I have a problem, though. I enjoy company, but when I'm in a new place, I enjoy wandering so I can explore the whole place alone. This way I can explore the place without other people putting their opinions in the place before I can form my own.
Tonight my path was based on traffic, intuition, and shiny objects. I saw parents chasing children, a concert on the square, some first-year Scotties heading somewhere else, and old couples walking down the street hand-in-hand. This old couple struck me especially deeply. Maybe it was because Aunt Amy died earlier this week. Another part of me, though, wondered what it would be like to love someone for that long and still have something new to talk about. This intrigues me greatly.
I arrived at Crescent Moon after taking a long way there, ordered, and by the time the waitress arrived with my lemonade and gave me a few more minutes to look over the menu, I had already written a page, part of which you've already read if you read the first part of this entry. When she came back, she was surprised to see how much I had already written. "I had forgotten that you had never ordered, and then I was like, 'Ohmigod, she's already written a page!'" she told me when she came to my table. This amused me greatly. I was also amused that she offered me the wine selection, especially since I don't consider myself to be particularly mature-looking. Maybe Dr. Nbook's appearance did it.
On the way back I heard someone playing a saxophone. I could have gone straight back to Agnes, but the saxophone reminded me of Jeffrey, as much as he annoyed me over the summer (though not with his saxophone). So I followed the noise. A man who for some reason reminded me of Stephen King in appearance was playing the saxophone. His case on open on the ground; I could see several bills in it. After he stopped playing, I talked to him for a few minutes about artistic expression. His was music; mine was writing. Before I left, though, we started talking about how we see the world and how our own views of the world can cloud everything in it. If we look only at the bad things, then that's all we're going to see. There's so much good in the world; why don't we look for it?
This evening started as an adventure of my own creation, but I'm glad to see that because it was my own creation, I let others have a positive hand in it as well. Isn't that what life is?
**
Also, I have so much work to do this weekend that it's not funny. I probably won't be around much. Or I will be because I'll be procrastinating. Which reminds me, we have a French test on Wednesday assuming the syllabus hasn't changed.
...And how do you get tested in a literature class? Maybe that's me being naive, but it's a valid question, je crois.