That’s right I’m back, and grateful to be sitting on my dome shaped yoga ball updating my blog after 5 days at sea, and 5 days adventuring through NYC. I’ve learned some pretty amazing things about myself in the time I’ve been gone, and have written a great deal in my journal, as internet access on the boat cost $.55/minute. Insane. That’s okay though, I’ve completed my first chapter, and the rough outline of my proposal, now I need to revisit the proposal and inject my voice, a shot of freckled junk to spice it up and make publishers love me. Well, I hope that’s what happens. Who knows…
First thing I learned: Adventuring is best done on sunny/overcast days with the built in GPS device on my iphone. While walking around Brooklyn is great, and the tree’s in all their color changing glory can provide hours of entertainment, there may be nothing worse than ending up in a neighborhood with men on street corners and tire or rim shops as the only place of business in between. I’ve driven through many ghetto’s in my life, in fact usually request the driver to take me through on my way to wherever it is I happen to be staying, but it’s a different ball game by foot. Thank you imaps. You saved my day.
Second thing I learned: All people do on cruise ships is eat food and drink booze. I don’t know why I assumed there would be other things happening, perhaps it was just a fancy whim, a singular hope because I wanted to do other things. But no. All people do is eat, and the eating takes place at all hours of the day. All people talk about is what they ate, because that is all they have done, and that is all there is to talk about. Which is fine. But the amount of drinking that goes on is amazing. Infuckingcredible. I had the bartenders make me drinks that helped me to appear as though I am drinking as well, figuring that is the only way I’m going to fit in on this goddamn boat. So I had ginger ale in champagne glasses. Virgin Lava Flows. Sprite in highball glasses. But I still didn’t fit in. I ended up spending the majority of my time reading and writing…which was exactly what I’d set out to do anyway.
Third thing I learned: As much as I am a social person, I do not really wish to socialize with those who are so intoxicated they cannot form proper words, let alone grammatically correct sentences. “Ima seeck n tuured ova wabbley woobley boat shtuped boat, ah neehd anothadrunk.” Nothing is more obnoxious than someone who insists they need another drink when they actually need some water. Who am I to say what anybody needs though. I used to be that girl. I am grateful today, to not be.
Third thing I learned, part b: I’m really not so good at socializing anymore. Yeah, I can say hi, hello, how is your day going, but beyond that, I’m just not sure where conversation goes. Perhaps it was the drink induced love machine that carried me throughout the pacific, perhaps it was my original intentions to spend my time writing and reading, perhaps I just didn’t click with anybody on the boat. But I overheard a woman in an elevator saying to her friend “She just doesn’t want to socialize. I mean, don’t go on a cruise if you aren’t ready to get to know your shipmates.” I didn’t really want to get to know my shipmates. I wanted to lay in the sun, read “The Big Over Easy” and write my first chapter. I wanted to adventure in to Cabo, see the open air market in Ensenada, watch the waves crash as we pulled ahead through the salty water, but I didn’t go on this cruise to make friends. Is this me isolating? Did I intentionally isolate myself from my fellows because I felt out of place and while their vision of me turned blurry and messy, what I saw of them remained clear and sharp? I’m not sure. But I do know this. I spent the entire time on a ship of 2,200 people alone. Angel was there, but she made friends. I just made sentences.
Fourth thing I learned: It’s a quick decision, to run away and stay somewhere, regardless of whether or not I am fucked up. As soon as we hit Cabo’s sandy beach, the overwhelming urge to start up a pink water taxi service, complete with pink colored glass bottomed boats consumed my brain. “Stay here. it’s always sunny in Cabo, fuck Phili, Cabo is the way of the future.” I wrote the majority of my first chapter laying out at Nikki Beach, sipping a virgin mango marg, and always feel inspired to write as soon as I leave town. Maybe for the book, I will return to the “scene of the crimes” and write about what feelings come up. This means going to Japan, Spain, NYC, Miami, KC, Hotlanta, Ohio, Vegas, Amsterdam, Paris, Germany, and a few more places I can’t seem to recall right now. Laying at ME brought me back to April of 08, to a different time in my life, and I felt a little lost shuffling through the emotions that came up by that pool, looking out onto the ocean with new eyes, and a different attitude. I’m thrilled to write. Period. So I’m back. And the diarrhea of words will continue.
Fifth thing I learned: My hits per day skyrocket when publications like the SF Gate do pieces on me. What’s up 20,000 hits in one day. Holy fucking shit. That’s what’s up.
In conclusion, I am glad to be home. After NYC, the leaves changing color, and Cabo, where the sky is always the same, I’m glad to return to my 101S, to the traffic and smog and people who have been doing the same thing while I’ve been adventuring all over the world. I’m glad to have found the one street in LA that has a slight glimpse of what fall looks like, red leaves to brown, near the ultimate plunge to the cement below but holding onto that last speck of summer. I’m glad to see my dog, and my cat, glad they missed me as much as I missed them. I’m glad to report my sobriety intact, a few weeks over seven months and I’m well on my way toward my first date. But mostly, I’m glad to be me.
There. I said it. I’m glad to be me.
That feels pretty good.