Megapixels

I've been in Central America for six weeks now. I only know because yesterday when someone asked me, I said "a few weeks." That didn't sound right so I checked the calendar, only to realize that it had actually been a few weeks a few weeks ago. I was a bit taken back by the fact that I have already been here for so long. That's more time than I have left on this little adventure. I'm going to have to recalibrate my sense of time. From here on out, I'm basically on a schedule again. It's a strange feeling after having been relatively care-free with time for so long. But it's exciting, in a way.

I knew when I left that it would eventually come to this. Since I started travelling alone when I was 19, one thought has always crossed my mind when boarding the plane to leave Salt Lake: Before I know it, I'll be on the plane back home thinking, "what the hell just happened?" And that's exactly what I think every time. It's not a bad feeling, but it's always laced with some degree of anxiety. It's kind of a pre-traumatic stress syndrome that lasts only as long as it takes to get into the swing of things. Your mind and body know when you're about to enter into an altered state -- like how you feel in the moment before a race, or the hours before an exam, or prior to other extracurricular activities.

I'm feeling the onset of this already. Strange, considering I have more time left than the total time I have had for some of my past trips. It's all relative though I suppose. Over the last several months I've talked to lots of people about their thoughts on going home, and it has usually evolved into a conversation of photos and writing . It's interesting if and how people chose to document their adventures. You can tell a lot about a person from their decisions on the matter, and even more from their justifications. You could say, writing turns the experiences that are but puddles of wax in your memory back into candles. Pictures and videos do the same, although they stimulate your more physical senses. All this is especially true for experiences that didn't feel particularly important or interesting when you were in the moment, because naturally, these times are the most easily forgotten. Actually, there are apps being developed right now based on this idea.

One girl I talked to said that she didn't even know what she was going to tell people when she got home and they asked what she had done in the year she was away. For a moment, I felt the same way, until I thought of the blog and the pictures I've taken. I'll always be able to defer people to those. In some way or another, I've accounted for most of my time away. I can't imagine not having anything to look back at. Already, the month or so in China and the few weeks in Central America that I've missed, feel a little lost. This makes me want to be more diligent about keeping track. But I've talked to others who argue that if they allowed themselves the distractions of writing and photography, they couldn't possibly make the most of their time abroad.

I've decided that it all boils down to what drives you. For me, writing is something (not the only thing) that I could see myself doing later on, so any excuse to write is a good one. And anything that makes me really think about life, is a better one. This is fun for me. For many others, it's different. Some live to travel and prefer to spend every moment present in the experience. Some travel to escape. Some to discover. Some to remember, and some to forget. Some in search of opportunity. And some in search of the unknown. Et cetera. Writing aside, I fall somewhere in the middle of all these. I did not have a clear intention or vision of what I wanted when I left. I remember having a general feeling of lethargy, and lacking ideas and motivation. I just figured that the exposure to new environments and the absence of comfort zone related bad habits would shed some light on my life.

It has. I think the most rewarding thing about my trip so far has been all the time I've spent alone -- the reading, the writing, the hours and hours, and hours, in trains and buses and planes just thinking. I wouldn't chose to live like this forever, but it has done wonders for clearing out the build-up of mental clutter. When I'm in Salt Lake, I'm never alone. At least not for long. I find comfort in company, and I keep myself busy with projects that give me little to no sense of accomplishment once they're complete, should they ever reach that stage. Like most people of our day, I've grown accustomed to choosing activities that are relatively simple and offer instant gratification.

Instant gratification is a novel concept. More often than not, the more instant, the less gratifying. Having a mentality that's driven by instant gratification will disarm you of your common sense. It's a lifestyle -- a debilitating attitude of which procrastination and addiction are primary symptoms. I've found that most everyone subscribes to it to some degree. Forget the consequences of your actions and just as importantly, inaction, and stay busy or distracted at any cost. A life spent seeking and settling for instant gratification is like looking at every pixel in an image without ever zooming out to see what they represent together. Sure, they each have their charm, but what can you make of it all when you're done?

I know this mindset well. I'm no stranger to procrastination. For a while in college I even convinced myself that all the fun I had not studying and doing homework was worth the one or two days of stress before each exam and due date. In my work life, I've mostly had jobs that pay the bills but aren't stimulating. As for my health, I rarely limit my intake of food and beverages that I know will make me feel and look like hell on the grounds that they're magically delicious. In my social life, until recently, I avoided building close relationships with people where I could. And since then, in my closest relationships, I can think of a few instances where I wanted something different but refused to put in the time and effort.

So what now? Here I am figuring this all out but still not making any discernable progress. I've been here before. What makes this any different? Maybe it's the time I have left abroad actually working in my favor. Maybe it's the select few people that I've met since I left that have made a real impact on me. Maybe it's the ideas and inspiration I've gotten along the way. Maybe I'll be 30 this year. Or, maybe, nothing makes this any different at all. In any case, I'm ready to face the joys and challenges of tomorrow. Wait, no. I'll create them.