My idea of adventure is the adrenaline rush I get when I sit down on a toilet that still has the seat up. The fear of falling into the toilet in that split second is enough for a sizable adrenaline rush.
Anything more than that is too much.
Similarly, leaving my apartment for work is exciting enough for me. I’m a homebody, and I start missing the comforts of my apartment about five hours after leaving it. I don’t like being out in the big, wide world.
Or, these are things I would have told you four weeks ago.
June has been a whirlwind of new experiences for me. My standards for whirlwinds are admittedly low, but even objective third parties have agreed my June has been exciting.
It started with an unexpected work trip to Mexico. I found out on a Tuesday I would be flying down to Mexico that Thursday and returning the same day. I got my passport in April for traveling to our international plants, so naturally, this was my first time out of the United States.
My company has a private jet, and the flight down there was pleasant enough. There were other passengers onboard, mostly men who are based in Mexico who were going home.
The trip to our Mexico plant wasn’t anything to write home about, and it was a huge waste of time from a work perspective.
There were already people in Mexico who are based in the U.S., and they were going to be on the return trip with me. I’ve only been working there for a few months, but I knew some of the people who were flying back, a cute engineer being one of them.
The engineer and I ended up in the same armored vehicle on our way to the airport, with only one other passenger who sat in the front. The engineer is a talker, and he talked all the way to the airport. Once we got to the airport, he talked while we waited for our plane.
We talked on the entire flight home, and he asked me for my number, which I was more than happy to give to him. He said we need to hang out, and that it’s good to have work friends. We have great chemistry, and it seems as if we have been friends for years.
The next adventure was a writer’s conference in Dallas I had somewhat rashly signed up to attend. It cost a pretty penny, but I thought I might learn about ways I could make money through editing, which is possibly my next career move, albeit years from now.
The conference was all day Saturday and most of the day Sunday. I had three objectives for the conference:
- Learn as much as I could about writing.
- Try to learn about the publishing field, especially editing.
- Meet new people and come out of my shell as much as possible.
I was most worried about number three, being the shy bundle of nerves that I am. Meeting that cute engineer in Mexico took the edge off of meeting new people because I realized I hadn’t died after meeting him.
I cannot do the writer’s conference justice in this post, and I plan on writing a post dedicated solely to those two days. Suffice it to say, I accomplished all three of my goals and then some.
I don’t often do things I am proud of (unless you count making awesome puns), but after the conference, I felt like I had done something right for once. That isn’t to say I don’t do worthwhile things, I do, but often, I do those things for other people.
I’m rarely selfish with my time and/or money. Especially my time. This does not bother me, but I was pleasantly surprised by the experience of doing something for myself, not to mention, by myself.
I have no problem being alone, but when I am alone, I’m tucked safely away in my apartment engrossed in a book, or, on good days, writing.
Going out on my own to do something that would invariably involve talking to strangers, and not knowing any people beforehand, is a momentous occasion for me.
Don’t laugh at me. I’m twenty-six years old and I’m finally acquiring a taste for independence and, dare I say it? Adventure.
I am indubitably a late bloomer. Understatement of the century! But hey, as one of my friends told me, so was Vincent van Gogh. She listed several other people, but he’s my favorite comparison.
Van Gogh was also bipolar, you see. And he mutilated himself in the name of love. If only I could ever be soooo in love!! Not only this, he also shot himself in the stomach and died a slow, painful death. But hey, he’s famous now, isn’t he?
Some people get all the luck.
I’d like to be a published author someday, but I have no delusions about my name becoming even marginally recognizable.
I just realized this post has been hijacked by my ADD. *shakes hea—SQUIRREL!!!!*
Bear with me for a few more minutes. I’ll wrap it up soon, promise!
After the (successful) adventures at the beginning of June, I got a slight taste in my mouth for more adventures.
Never one to admit traveling could be fun, I realized the other day that going to Japan could be awesome. * jaw drops*
This thought came out of left field. It was the weirdest thing, but maybe someday I can find someone who will go with me.