Why I Hate "Stay-Cations"

Many years ago when I was a young(er) lad I made a conscious decision to alter the path I was on. It seemed that the path I had been put on involved a lot of items that didn't make me happy and sometimes made me downright miserable. I decided to focus more on the people in my life. People that cared about what I thought and felt and thought the same way about me. People that to me were real: they laughed, cried, yelled and sometimes cursed their maker when they didn't understand a situation. I decided that you can't truly love anyone if you don't love yourself and basically decided to just try to be a better person.

Anyone that knows me knows that my mind is constantly on the go. I'm always thinking of the next step, another permutation to a problem or a witty retort to the last comment you made. It is usually only when I'm on vacation that my mind is able to shut down after 2 days of drinks, sand and interesting conversation. This is primarily the reason that I aim for a beach and water every chance I get. This one time, I was unable to get enough people interested in a quick trip, so I opted for the ever popular, seldom satisfying stay-cation.

I am not a stranger to stay-cations. I took several when I used to work at my previous job. They all ended up the same way: with me in some mental funk after barely leaving the house in a week -not because I couldn't have plans, but because I get myself in a funk and start choosing to stay home instead of socializing. Add to this the 24 hour overdrive cycle that my mind enters. I will think about everything from humanity's beginnings to why that pain in the ass friend of mine can never make time to hang out. This is dangerous for me because in essence, I'll just chase my proverbial tail with no chance of ever catching it until I simply reset by passing out from exhaustion.

It's now been 2 days into this stay-cation and I have done nothing different than on an average day off - maybe even less. I have, however, done lots of thinking. Not always a good thing. While trying to plan a trip I'm taking next year to New Orleans, I started realizing how quickly the time has passed. I must own thousands of pictures of friends 8 years ago meeting 3 times a week at a local bar just catch up and have a good time. Now a night out involves a day off in between and lots of planning. I have often tried to remind my friends that there are only "X" amount of years, events and trips left before life gets in the way. Before plans involve the wife and/or kids, before you can't go because your spouse hates your friends or before the mortgage has to take priority over fun. At these times I'm looked at like I'd assume any prophet of days past foretelling the end of the world - with disbelief.

Fast forward 8 years. Life gets in the way.

I get it. Priorities shift and life happens. The days of gathering the gang and going on a romp across Europe may be mostly over. Sometimes you go weeks without seeing people that live five minutes from your house. Last night a friend pointed out to me that he thought we were older now than some of the teachers we had in high school. Are we "middle aged?" One friend says no, another avoids the question. A third will say that he's younger than me so he doesn't count. Another will say that age is just a number in your head. My 98 year old grandmother is proof of that. But if age is just a number in your head, how did my aging body pick up on it?

What's the point of this? I don't exactly know. Since this blog is primarily for my own sanity and most of my friends get a verbal version of most of these topics when we meet over dinner or drinks, I'd assume that what I'm really trying to do is maintain a record for myself. To record as much as I can so that when I review these moments in my head I don't chase my tail, but find that this is just life and the one thing I do well is adapt.

Wait, I did do something today, I wrote this post.