Tuesday, January 19, 2016

The Littlest Hobo

I'm travelling for work this week which means I've been in a different city each day for the past three days.  I'm writing this from wintery Thunder Bay.

Pros of work travel: expense accounts for food and big per diems
Cons of work travel: ^^^ I'm overeating like a Pigface McGillicuddy

Pros of work travel: opportunities to travel to places I might otherwise never prioritize visiting (e.g. Thunder Bay)
Cons of work travel: having to be "on" all the time

Pros of work travel: getting to know my clients and my colleagues in a new way and meet people around the office
Cons of work travel: dealing with bitchy, negative intelligence mid-20s girls who are still in that sad, fragile place where they see other women as competition (but also: HOW AMAZING IS IT THAT THIS POOR THING THINKS I'M HER PEER?!?"

Pros of work travel: alone time to stuff my face on takeout in a king sized bed in a hotel room I didn't pay for
Cons of work travel: missing my family (kinda).

I say "kinda" because I miss them, but I weirdly haven't missed missed them (yet).  Work travel is kind of a solitary thing - you're the autonomous, independent, "work" iteration of yourself, but switched on all the time, without reprieve.  It's weird, when Kool Moe Dee and I leave the kids for more than 2 hours, or even when the kids are in bed and we're getting ready to turn in, that's when I find myself missing our kids the most, bordering almost on nostalgia as we replay the funny things they do with that little bit of space and time to reflect.  Maybe I don't miss them as much because I don't have the Dotytron to share the missing with?  I miss them in and of themselves but maybe I also need someone who gets them like I do to share the missing with.  Missing as a communal, creative activity as opposed to a solitary one.

Tavi Gevinson, that slip of a sage, said something recently: "I believe fear of loss is a common cause of collecting, nook-making, and other forms of resistance against all randomness."  I think my deeply ingrained fear of loss is what drives me to do the things that I do - to make things with my hands, to feed, to cook, to document that cooking obsessively (going on 10 years - if not more - now!), to maintain this blog in the face of the long-foretold death-knell for long writing pieces (and in the face of an occasionally hostile and misunderstanding readership).  I am resisting randomness as best I can - holding the ephemeral, intangible, impotent line.  Maybe that's why I'm so baby crazy...maybe that's why I do all the things I do.

The Dotytron and I had a long, rambling, philosophical conversation once with our friend, about our friend's existential crisis and latent need to feel that they've "done" something with their life.  My mortality fears aren't rooted in the need to do something big, or important.  My mortality fears are because I love the here and now and everything so. damn. much.  I won't go gentle in that good night.  At least, I don't think I will.


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