There's a part of me that's Chaos Theory incarnate. Getting it together to organize a mortgage or annual trips overseas is slightly beyond me. Less literate souls have snapshots of their trip aboard the Trans Siberian Express; more prosaic personalities fill the tea room with their talk of how they've got a great matching carpet curtain combo for their den. Meanwhile the clock ticks on and I start to wonder whether I'll ever gain sufficient ground.
Is it really necessary to be seasonally adrift to produce great art? There's only been one song with the unwieldy title "You can't write the blues in an air-conditioned room" but that's enough for me.
Of course I'm not completely stuck. I now have a good job, which still pays a little less than my friends did twenty years ago, but it's a sure sign of progress. They each have a travel series in them if they should ever wish to set it down, and my solitary OS trip was with the hostel in high school when we took a flying ten day holiday to Singapore, Malaysia and Indonesia. Yet I'm the one with two teenage kids and they're not even hitched yet. Swings and roundabouts? I don't know.