Sometimes I question if my urge to travel so much is rooted in a disdain for reality. True, I have been trying to put off real responsibilities for as long as I have been alive. Going to school for as long as possible, not contributing anything real to society except on the micro aspect of the nuclear family. I am beginning to ask myself, if I do choose to travel for a year, what would be gained from it in the end? Of course, I would have a good time and see things I have never seen before, which is necessary to sustain a positive psychological balance.
"This restlessness and thirst for adventure is, for the most part, barren and illusory, because it is uncreative. We are seeking to escape from a dull world instead of turning back upon it to transform it." (Park et al., The City, 1984)
What about if I make my travels creative? What if I promise myself to read the lengthy book list in my mind, and write a short story or a novel during my travels? I have a suspicion that I cannot keep that promise to myself. I do the best when I am pushed. This is why I have not been able to hold down a job for a considerable period of time. Teachers push me. If I am not pushed, I get caught up in leisure. There are just so many distractions.
If I go abroad, will I be soul seeking or reality escaping? Maybe a bit of both. But I think I still must go to find out.
Monday, February 16, 2009
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