Days Go By

Today I was seized with the strange urge to pack a bag and go to San Francisco. I don't get travelling urges much, if ever, and so this sudden desire to pack up, skip a week of classes, and go to the coast is out of character for me. Nonetheless, I asked R if he wanted to go. He said he had no money. I seriously pondered calling Mark, since out of everyone I know Mark would be the most likely to show up at my door fifteen minutes later, packed and ready to go.

I didn't call Mark. I did two loads of laundry and vacuumed my floor and cooked lunch and sat on the couch and read High Fidelity for the fourth or fifth time, since I love Nick Hornby. He has this delightful way of looking at things that makes me feel mundane without any of the negative connotations. I went to the gym and as I ran, I thought about why I wanted to go to San Francisco. There isn't anything I really want to see or do in San Francisco--okay, maybe the Exploratorium, but that wouldn't necessitate a random early-spring flight. Finally, I concluded that I didn't want to go to San Francisco. I didn't spend my day dreaming about going there, about what I'd see and do with whoever I was there with. I didn't do research, I didn't look up flights or hotels. I daydreamed about being the kind of person who would go.

This happens, every so often. I spend a lot of time fantasizing about a life that is much different from mine. Last time I wanted the life of a poet who lived in New York and wore a lot of secondhand clothing. (Funny thing was, at one point in my life, that was pretty much me) Now I want to be a person who picks up and goes with no thought for consequences.

The truth of the matter is, if Mark or anyone showed up at my door, I'd tell them I'm synthesizing WellButrin in ochem lab tomorrow, and I really don't want to miss it. Because I am the person who lives for science, for the thrill of doing things and watching their outcomes, and despite my occasional fantasies, I wouldn't give it up for the world.