Stranger Days.

Stranger Days

You know what I’ve been mulling over the last few weeks? How and why it was easier to stay in touch with my beloved friends and family when I was NOT in the country? How was it possible to feel closer to my peeps when I wasn’t physically near them versus when I’m actually “in” the same place? Am I falling into the same pattern that I’ve seen in so many others that when the routine of life settles in, the ability to stay up to date with the rest of your bubble becomes more difficult and  less available? Is the time I would spend thinking of others, communicating with others, being involved with others now spent reading fiscal spreadsheets and correcting language mistakes in government documents?

I could be. It could be. This might all be true.

But seriously, I’m currently working on my travel book, and by working I mean going through all of my blogs, emails and journals to make a somewhat cohesive skeleton before I begin filling in the meat, and everything is about me and my people. I write to them, I write about them, I think about what they’re doing and how they’re feeling. In reading all of these past records of my tour throughout the world and life, I see how involved I was with those close and tremendously far, and how upon returning to a home-base where someone from the group was located, what a reunion we would have!

And now that I’m home, or as “home” as I can be, I speak so infrequently to the same people I emailed with weekly. I see so rarely the same folks that would make trips to find me as I would to reconnect with them. This makes me more sad than I could even say.

I wake up (too) early every morning, to hustle on public transport to work where I spend 8-9 hours SITTING at my desk (my body HATES me right now), before I have to turn around and go back home. By the time I get to my safe haven, I then struggle to either practice my cello, hit the gym, buy groceries, or run short errands, and then eat dinner with my family. By the time this all ends, it’s 8PM and I’m EXHAUSTED. I don’t want to call anyone, email another soul, or try and make conversation when I can’t even drag myself to bed before I pass out in front of the boob tube with my dog.

At what point can I make the effort to speak to my people? I can’t email at work (the use of personal internet is not recommended, although you can check things quickly if necessary), I definitely can’t make personal calls, and as for blogging – there is such a rogue mission that must be taken to get my thoughts onto the webpage involving my phone, secret email accounts (I kid…or do I…?) and stealthy screen changes that it makes even TRYING to communicate redonkulous.

But I do want to speak with my bubble. I do want to stay connected and fight against the age old tradition of slowly fading friendships and incubation in only a work/home life. But am I the only one? This would not be the first time….


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