Fun-up, on scare week.
It has been a developmental-idea-startup sabbatical of (about) a year, and a half. And in between, travels to jog the mind, and cleanse the soul’s palate. Or at least level-up the internationally attenuated spirits. (wink).
Plans to leave the mind behind, require the stern will to chill, and focus on the timely, prompted task of having fun. (Like having that annual forced leave.)
Accomplishing this takes as much organisation, if not more so, (here’s why):
It encompasses a focus on the trail not taken daily.
It makes up for timelines that for irregular work hours taken, not sure how it sums up, especially if your non-structured work hours are accommodated to train your mildly-structured brain for creative work.
It erases all the exacting of environments that entailed compression - like going from a shore entry earth-to-sea situation (denser states crush lungs, and you need to re-orient your acuity grids accordingly).
It needs a structure that is populated-at-will, of data that usually we can command on broadband that we take for granted is as fast and as prompt, and as wide a bandwidth (like our time). Right, or is it just me?
It requires a mindset that doesn’t have a goal - it is an as-you-go kind of adventure, which takes as much work in practise, as it does in actual definition of detox / functional recreative decompress. It is tiring to think of responses on vacation to questions like: what would you like to drink/ eat/ see/ ride/ buy/ what time/ what colour/ how soon? Responding to get dressed now, and eat, and one-word verbal cues, feel like toddlerisms that might actually be way more embarrassing uttered by the hipster-G.O.s on ClubMed resort trails, so i am forcing myself to be organised (at least uttered on low volume by way of field-up scroll notifications).
Would it help the planet to relieve it of the choices, instead of piling them on, and then charging us the requisite fees? Reminiscent of the childhood i had where non-summer rainy season = school, summer = beach. (That, was simple.)
Now, we are required to report back to headquarters awaiting our blog post on the vacation, when that was exactly why we needed the vacation. (The whole office hung on to every Facebook post!) Really? Blast. Rolling eyes massively now. At one point, there was officemates who still thought i worked there, three years after i had gone. (And said, ‘when are you back’?) The waters, as my bobby socks, they are ankle-high.
Might be a challenge, since the last cross-continental trip had left me hanging without a passport, and made me travel-proof for about three years - hopefully that wasn’t in a blanket apology disguised as un-clarified questions that people helped themselves socially, to amending - without checking with me first. Bygones?! Three. years. (of demented potential fun). down. the. drain.* Gosh, what am i going to do now? wide mouthed, sarcastic happy emoji here. (Roll flashback of Princess Bride scene where Wesley’s basement torture machine had taken 5 years of his life). WE do not wish.
I am ramping up luggage and cleaning up the remnants of shuffle-packing and rummage for seasonal clothes in my flat, in the wake of leaving a three-month hosting of brood, and shifting autumnal mindsets to a more fanatical pace. (Again.)
There’re mindsets to synchronise (not mistaken as being taken control of, or wrangle someone’s dignity from), and the phrase “out of sight, out of mind” i think had burst all bubbles with the theory that it actually deepens intensely, with a social network profile looming around. It brings me to think that absence helps interpersonal attention, & mostly among all the catcalls of busy life and the frenetic pace of distracting information - we find that it’s actually, more retained.
Perhaps it’s just modern life, redefined?
Or perhaps, like some recipes of meat-searing, and pancake-dough resting, it conferences the inevitable forward march into our reality of connectedness. (That possibly opportunity-laden, but privacy-unsettling, is sadly, seriously irreversible. Choose well.)
Ugh. Yoga calls. (Put my name down, for a namaste strength 7, and that’s kristin with a k? Stress.)
And only then, will /fun/ n. _____ (define it yourself, please), might actually enter, stage left.
Here goes the two-week sabbatical, maybe i’ll suffer myself a post while on #(TheJeanGrey rounding-off-summer to the nearest dot dot, autumnal retreat). Else, i will most definitely tweet. Ciao peeps. (Wish me luck!)