Pretending to be her
Time to reveal a secret:
The person flying to London tomorrow isn’t me.
It’s this persona I came up with a few years ago so I could go to Iceland.
See, the real me can be very small. Very nervous and stuck in her ways. She always eats at the same restaurants, orders the same thing off the menu, goes to the same gas station, the same grocery store–we’re very cozy in our routine.
She doesn’t like to leave her nest. She likes to do things in the same order every day: Get up and write Morning Pages while drinking coffee; walk the dogs and the husband; have oatmeal and a banana; play on the internet; load Bear into the car for the Starbucks run; then finally get down to work.
The Routine works very well for me. I am great at meeting deadlines, always checking things off my to-do list, working steadily on a novel or other work until it is done. That’s the me I’ve been since I was a little girl. She’s so dependable and efficient. I really love her a lot.
But there’s this other pretend me–the one who’s going to London tomorrow–and we need to be her sometimes or we’ll never live a life. We’ll never try new foods or go to other countries or even switch to bagels some days instead of oatmeal.
So I flip a little switch. I make a deal with myself. Starting yesterday I became Her–the fearless traveler, the adventure writer, the explorer. I have an image in my mind from an aricle I read in Outside magazine a few years ago. It was a photo of one of their writers, a man, hunched over a box with his laptop on top, typing some story in the middle of nowhere.
That’s me. Even though I’m going to London and I’m not a man and I’ll find something better to put my laptop on.
But it takes an actual mental shift. I have to decide to set aside the person I am most days, and make a conscious choice to be the woman who loves this kind of stuff, who lives to get out in the world and meet new people and feast her eyes on new landscapes. And once I flip that switch, like yesterday, the terms of the deal are clear: for the next however many days or weeks, I will not be afraid. I will try new things every day, all day. I will talk to strangers. I will (as Annette made me promise last night) give up Starbucks and find some local cafe instead and let them impress my tongue with their coffee.
I don’t know how to explain it any better than this: I am not myself right now. Myself would not go on this trip. She would just read about it instead and wonder if one day, some day, she would ever do that.
She might not, but I am. I’ll write to y’all from London.
Technorati Tags: Writing, Travel, Travel Writing, London
Good thing I read this before leaving tomorrow! Otherwise I would have been looking for the old you at the hotel in London and would not even have recognized the new you. Are there any other surprises you have been holding back that I should know about NOW?Annette- thanks for the good trip wishes. We will have a blast and I will try to keep Robin from the tattoos, piercings, and Starbucks. I surely did not pack a single pair of shoes with any kind of heel but we will still look stylish.Don’t look for much in the way of blog entries since I will not let Robin spend all day on the internet….we are tourists and not writers for a bit.
I’ll be the one in the safari jacket and pith helmet.
You eat something other than oatmeal some days?
God, I can’t even SPEAK to you…
Can we call the other pretend you, Xena?
When I don’t have oatmeal, I like to go all the way and have the Sausage McGriddle Sandwich. It keeps the digestive system on its toes.
Have a blast, Kids! Try to avoid driving lessons. That means you, Sue.
Um, Patrick, I didn’t want to say anything, but I am Xena. Totally. I have her picture in my office. I’ve watched every episode. I even watched the documentary on the woman who was her stunt double. Xena and I could be twins–you know, except for the body and face and all.
But for purposes of travel, I’m actually this Icelandic heroine named Freydis, who scared away a marauding band of warriors by screaming like a maniac and cutting off one of her breasts with a sword. The warriors were so freaked they ran right back to their boats and rowed away.
Not that I’ll be doing any of that in London, but still.
Erik the Red’s axe murdering daughter?
I’ll stick with Xena and Gabrielle. I feel better that way. And really, it’s all about how I feel.
Either you know your Viking sagas, or you know how to Google.
Those who haven’t been paying attention probably won’t expect this.
I know EVERYTHING.
know everything AND win everything–awesome. that’s why you’re on my list!
All that and I’m humble, too!