I've been away for awhile and I feel guilty. I challenged myself in February to write every day for a year and I was going at it well until June 23, exactly four months to the day that I started this crazy idea. I feel like I have failed because I stopped writing and every day I told myself, maybe I will post something today. It's like going to the gym, you think positive thoughts about it, but it never happens. Suddenly a month has gone by without a post and my faithful readers are worried about me. Well, at least four of them anyway. To those who have missed my posts, I apologize. Life has been crazy and busy and basically just plain stupid. I will tell you a little secret though, I missed communicating with you every day. I've missed writing. Sitting here in bed, with my laptop on my crossed legs, feels damn good. Whatever shall I reveal tonight? Probably drivel, but I hope you enjoy it anyway. As always, your kind words, your emails and your thoughts mean more to me than I can express and I appreciate you taking this journey with me. I've been told many times recently that I am too hard on myself so I will forgive myself this month-long hiatus and I hope you will too.
Moving on.
Yesterday, or maybe Wednesday, I decided that I would go away by myself this weekend. I recently bought I new car, whom I've christened Veronica on her first (of many, I hope) road trip. Thanks to a new, but profoundly good friend, for suggesting the name! I think the sassiness of my car, a red 2012 VW Beetle, is described perfectly with that moniker. Y'all know I'm a bit sassy myself, hence the car choice. Having this shiny new toy inspired me to finally take a trip I've wanted to take since I split with my ex. I want to visit the place I spread my dad's ashes last year and I wanted to be by myself to contemplate life, the universe and everything. The answer, my favourite redhead, is 42.
Here's the funny thing about being single and being me. I've always really liked doing things by myself. I shop by myself, I go to movies by myself, I travel by myself and I enjoy it. I really do. I love, I cannot stress this enough, I love being with my people and I love being social and talking and learning new things about my friends, but I immensely enjoy being alone and singing at the top of my lungs and eating junk food in the most sloppy way possible and not worrying what anyone is thinking about my rambling and constant monologue. So. I decided, basically on the spur of the moment and mostly because I just bought a new (to me) car, that I must go on a road trip. Just try and find someone that isn't doing anything this weekend when it's Wednesday. In truth, I didn't even bother to look for someone, I just made a plan. So Friday night, I hopped into that beautiful red car and drove until 10:30 at night when I found a hotel and turned in for the night. This is where you currently find me, in a king sized bed of a suite, the only room left. Not only is a something-palooza happening at Beausoleil Island, but apparently there is a Bass fishing tournament to look forward to as well, yay me, win/win. Hopefully I can still find a boat to take me to the island for the day. I might be making another plan tomorrow, which hopefully you will hear about when I'm done for the day!
So, I've explained my affinity for being alone, but I haven't even told you about everyone else's reaction to it. I got various responses when I told people I was going away for the weekend on my own. My one friend asked me who I was going with and I replied, 'No one, just me." She smiled at me and said, "Come on, you can tell me, who are you going with?" "Honestly, no one, although there is someone I wish could have come, I am on my own!" Several other friends expressed envy that I was going to be by myself for two whole days and that I planned to unplug and not answer messages or go online. The best one though, was the front desk at the hotel when I showed up alone at 10:30 at night with no reservation (Yes, I'm kind of a crazy, fly by the seat of my pants kind of girl). The front desk person asked me how many adults and I said, "One." She asked me why I was visiting and you could tell it was just polite small talk. I told her that I've been wanting a solo weekend for a little while and that I spent many summers here as a kid, so it holds a special place in my heart. I did not add that I (probably illegally) spread my dad's ashes in a provincial park last year and that my plan was to go visit that spot and have a little spiritual commune with him if I get a chance. She then asked me if I had any family or friends here and I replied, cheerily, "Nope! Just on my own!" Now, this is the best part. She was clearly starting to think I was a total loon to travel up here on my own, for no reason, with no friends and no plans to visit any friends. I could tell she was getting desperate to know why I would do this. I almost made up a boyfriend ("My boyfriend is away this weekend, so I just thought I'd do a little trip on my own, he is going to join me later") just to put her at ease, but I couldn't lie. Isn't it funny how we feel we owe complete strangers an explanation? I resisted the urge to tell her anything, make up anything and just left her to think what she wants.
So starts my solo weekend. I leave you with these random thoughts that I had while I drove:
xo
-Megs
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