Planes, Trains, and Automobiles...or Buses or Boats

It's no secret that the cost of air travel is increasing at what most of us would agree is an alarming rate. The cost of the tickets themselves are skyrocketing. It costs a small fortune to check a bag. And we all run the risk of becoming all too familiar with the TSA employ and his metal detecting wand. These developments have me thinking: is there another alternative to air travel that is perhaps newer, fresher, and less invasive?

There was a time in this country when people relied solely on the ability of the railroad to carry them to their farthest continental destinations. When they left the country, they traveled by boat (unless, of course, they were going to Canada). Could it be that the airlines themselves will force us back into this mode of transportation? And if they do, are we going to like it anymore than we like what we currently have?

There are efforts being made to revive the rail industry, and I am intrigued by the possibility of its comeback. There is something about the idea of rail travel that makes me nostalgic. I feel more connected with that previous generation. There is something old-fashioned and romantic about the idea of traveling by train.

I'm sure that train travel is just as riddled with potential problems and hiccups as air travel; safety is always a concern, no matter your mode of transportation. And it is entirely possible that the only reason the idea of traveling this way make me feel nostalgic is because I have never experienced locomotive foibles. Perhaps that's what is most intriguing. Maybe the only reason I am enchanted with the idea is because I don't know what a headache it really is. The possibility is the thing. I'm always curious about what I don't know.

The Peter Pan Problem

Disclaimer: I am not opposed to the occasional carefree superhappyfun day. But I am a firm believer that there is a time and a place for everything.

Generally I am not a fan of adults who behave like children all day every day. Fun is one thing; prolonged adolescence is something entirely different. Isn't it hard enough to experience it once? I hear my inner monologue incessantly complaining when I encounter those people who still think it's good fun to bounce the bouncy balls all over Wal-Mart or draw obscene pictures on the walls in the bathroom or play paper football while waiting for their food to be delivered to their table at a restaurant. Before I can stop myself, I hear the groan of exasperation escape as I say to whoever is closest, "Seriously? You haven't matured beyond all that?"

Then I snap out of it and realize that I am taking myself far too seriously.

I remember what it was like to be unencumbered by the baggage that inevitably comes with adulthood. Filled with nostalgia I contemplate what it was like when my biggest concern was which Barbie I should ask for at Christmas or what would happen if a classmate stole the pencil bearing my name from my desk. At the time, they seemed like monumental problems. Now they seem like idyllic scenarios that couldn't possibly exist.

There is a time and a place for everything, but I think a lot of us take the boundaries a little too far. Why is it that there always seems to be more time and more places for serious, adult things that only serve to bring us down? Wouldn't life be a lot more engaging if we created more time and places for the fun stuff?

There are some things about adulthood that have their perks. I can stay up as late as I want to, and if I want to have ice cream for dinner, there's no one to tell me not to. But at the end of the day I have to think about what time the alarm will sound the next morning, and the sugar in the ice cream makes it difficult to sleep. The bills don't pay themselves, and the house could use a good cleaning.

Maybe perpetual childhood isn't the answer; after all, when we're kids all we want to do is grow up, so we pretend to be older versions of ourselves. But I can't help thinking we could all do with a little more fun and a little less doom-and-gloom.

P.S. While I see the value of a good bouncy ball and I do think paper football is a good way to kill time, I do not condone obscene pictures on bathroom walls. : )

Why Here?

I didn't choose to live here. And if I had the chance to choose, I probably wouldn't choose this place. I have no particular averison to El Paso, but it's not my ideal home. There are other places in this country that I would much rather be. This has me thinking: why do we settle where we do?

I know for most people it has to do with proximity: proximity to home, proximity to family, proximity to the only worlds we know. But for others who don't limit themselves, what is the motivation to choose one place over another?

In truth most of us could live anywhere in the country (or outside of it for that matter) that we wanted. What makes one choice better than another? What makes that man choose the house in the country surrounded by hills where the nearest neighbor is not really near at all? What makes that family choose that little spot in the desert where there is nothing visible except the road leading away?

Some things I understand. I know why people choose to live in New York City. I know why they like LA. What I don't understand is why we gravitate towards these out-of-the-way places that don't make sense. Why would someone choose to live in the desert where there is no anything: phone, cell phone, Internet, cable etc.? The same could be said of the hill country. Some places seem like they would be more miserable than anything else. So why do we keep ourselves trapped there?

I know there are a lot of rhetorical questions here, and I'm not sure I'm really even looking for answers. I don't know that any explanation will adequately explain why we choose to limit ourselves when it comes to a homestead.

Thomas Wolfe said, "You can't go home again." What if you didn't want to?

Sitting in Judgement...of Me

I hold myself to standards that, thankfully, I do not apply to anyone else. At least when I let myself down, I'm the only one I can be angry with.

Why do we expect so much from ourselves and so little from others?

In the recent crisis that has afflicted El Paso and completely crippled the city, I find myself wondering how it came to be that I find myself questioning whether I should pick up the slack for others in the city who don't feel the need to obey restrictions on water and other utilities. It throws into sharp perspective how self-centered and entitled I can be sometimes.

I am bothered by the fact that we are being told to consume as little water as possible (to the point of not bathing ourselves). I don't like that I am paying for bottled water when I have a perfectly fine filter in the refrigerator. I don't like that there is an eminent possibility that we may, as a city, run out of water.

Then I remember that I have a warm home to sleep in. I have a nice, soft bed to crawl into at night. I have food to eat and clean clothes to wear. My pipes didn't burst, and my ceiling didn't cave in. I have a car to take me where I need to go to acquire the things that will make this whole experience easier. And don't these things count for something?

Realizing this question has led me to ponder myself as a person and whether or not I am as good and decent as I like to think I am. This is no attempt to garner self-worth from external sources of validation. I'm just wondering when it is going to be enough. Will I ever be happy with what I have? The very fact that I have to ask this question of myself is painfully telling. I know what the answer should be. I know what I would like for my answer to be. I also know what my reality has become, and I am ashamed.

Funnily enough, I don't hold other people to the same standards. You can want what you want when you want it and get it and go on wanting as much as you like, and I think no less of people who live that way. I almost expect it of everyone else, and I wonder if they expect the same thing of me. The difference is that there comes a moment when I stop and chastise myself for thinking and behaving the way I do. Then I continue doing what I've always done. I wonder how many of us think these things and never say anything about them. We just go on living the way we want to fulfill what we believe to be everyone else's expectations.

Is this how life really is? Is this how it's going to be?