i’m in New Orleans visiting my friend. temperature is in the mid-sixties with very few clouds, and i am in full summer wardrobe. yes, future self, you will be jealous of your present self after going back to the Midwest. non sequitor: since my cat is aptly named Precious, i can channel my Gollum and talk in third-person plural.
traveling alone as a woman seems to gather quite a bit of staring from fellow travelers. otherwise, i conjecture that i had some serious wardrobe malfunction if my gender and lack of companion(s) weren’t the source of all the gawking. sometimes i wish i had a traveling companion, mostly to places where i don’t have a host; interviews, for example. that and going to events where a non-date date not only doubles for security, but is also someone to share the experience with: museums, concerts, theatre productions, cabaret shows. granted, some of my guy friends won’t be much of a body guard if the need arises, but somehow having male presence seems to subvert the gawking in a lot of situations.
now that i am on vacation, i feel strangely guilty for resting. classic side effect of workacol withdrawl. i mean, my biggest crisis was “do i write or do i sit by the pool?” which was resolved by writing by the pool. even now i am trying to keep myself from organizing my notes from work and going through email. where did this come from? feeling marginally sinful for taking time for myself and practice the zen of doing nothing? why do i work compulsively? because i enjoy the work? because i want to feel industrious? want to appear industrious?
please feel free to share your insight on this mild-to-moderate addiction.
- culinary diary of my trip. i expect to return to the Midwest with food-babies. triplets.
- the phenomenon of blogging/writing in a public forum, and how i want you to like me.
- more entries in “Scribblings” and commentaries on my “Poetry and Verses”.