Growing up, every summer, and most winters, we would "take a vacation" and go visit my grandparents. While I love my grandparents to death (rest their souls) this was in no way, shape, or form a vacation. My grandparents were on SSI or welfare, or whatever kind of government income there is for strange old people, and lived in a tiny little shak that fell apart every other week. I used to have nightmares that the back room they had built on would detach from the house in a storm and I would go flying away with it off to some redneck version of Oz. My mother, their most well off daughter, always felt the need to buy something, repair something, and restock both of their fridges and their outdoor freezers, plus cook and pay for any and all meals we ate there and clean the whole house. Meanwhile, my very ungreatful grandparents would bitch, complain, and manipulate my mother into thinking whatever she was doing just WASN'T enough. By the time we left, my whole family was emotionally drained.
Non-grandparent visits were spent with my father and I at each other's throats while my mother tried to mediate to no avail leading to massive amounts of anger filled tears. I think maybe we went to Disneyland once (which I hated... I was a bitch even as an 8 year old), and then we drove through the redwoods or something ridiculous like that.
As I got older, I began to take vacations with friends, which while fun, were always nerve wracking. We had to plan, to spend money that we'd earned on our own, and to see how well we could handle ourselves as friends out in unfamiliar settings. Some were fun, and others were eye openers... big learning experiences. I feel it defeats the purpose of a vacation if you have to learn too many hard lessons.
Needless to say, vacations make me very, very uncomfortable. As much as I complain about real life, homework, work, bills, and other various responsibility, I'm comfortable with them. The stress has become a normal, everyday thing. While the stress I feel on a daily level would probably give a more normal person several ulsers, and a few mild heart attacks, I've come to almost crave it. Real life is my security blanket. How twisted is that?
This vacation, though, was much much different. It had all of the makings of a traditional tear and angst filled vacation, being that I was broke, the people I was going with were also broke, I was going with a friend I'd had to two and a half year rift with and wasn't sure if I could be around her that long, and another friend who, on past vacations I'd had painfull experiences with.
Though I expected pain and frustration, I was met with nothing but pure relaxation, fun, and maybe a bit of healing. We had four days of mutual agreement, food, sun, exploration, laughter, and of course booze. I think the addition of the ex best friend actually balanced out the dynamic between my best friend and me. I think the most frequently used phrase of the trip was "we're never gonna get this again", and I think we might've been right. It was great.
Even though it was an amazing trip, I, being a real life junkie, was still over joyed to get back to the real world. The lack of responsibility made me a little bit restless, and after four days of care free fun, I was more than ready to charge back into school and work. At least I thought I was until I got to work this morning and the customers started bustling in. Now all I want is to lay out by the pool.
Oh life! Will you never satisfy me?
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