Introverted Vagabonding

Introverted Vagabonding

(last update: April 24, 2024)

Introvert: a shy person who prefers inner thoughts and small groups of people, if any at all.

Vagabond: a person who wanders place-to-place without a fixed home.

These two things go together poorly but equally represent who I currently am.

So, how does one get through such a life-style? Not easily. And, in my case, not happily.

Below, you will find random things- sadness, introspection, wonder, plain silliness. Some of the writings are short, others lengthy. They might pertain to my vagabonding or nothing at all- just thoughts and anecdotes.

No matter the category they fall under, there is one commonality- rawness. You (and sometimes I) may not understand but will hopefully come away from reading it with...... something. I don't know what. Maybe you'll learn about me, yourself, the world, a combination, or another thing entirely.

These are in no particular order and I've refrained from using names when possible. However, if you think something is about you, it probably is.

Cheers.

...

(Note: This post will always appear first.)

Good-bye

When I left the only constant home I have ever known, it was 4:30 in the morning and raining. Fitting, I thought.

My journey began on an airplane between a broken arm-rest and a toddler who did a good amount of screaming and flailing. Thankfully, he slept during most of the trip.

When we landed, the toddler’s mother handed me a holiday card with a chocolate bar. (Milk. I would have preferred dark.) She had prepared the gift for whoever sat where I was, knowing that her child would cause that person frustration. The gesture was nice but it did not make up for my internal aggravation. It was as useless as saying, “Sorry”.

I felt bad for the woman, who has to deal with that child all the time, but worse for myself, whose only mistake was desiring a window seat. I said the toddler was fine and thanked her for the gift. And I felt like a dishonest jerk while doing so.

...

Had we stayed together, the girl I lost my virginity to and I would be celebrating our 25th anniversary today. How different things would be. And, probably, how awful.

But in other news, today is also the birthday of my friend in Australia. I said 'friend' but we haven't spoken in about two years, since she told me to go away forever and I obliged.

There's a story. Maybe it will be told some day.

...

I saw online that an ex-girlfriend got married yesterday.

Good for them, genuinely. I am not jealous nor bitter nor anything negative like that.

But what was my first thought?

'This wouldn't have happened without me.'

Messed up, right?

They met after my ex left the area we lived in. She wouldn't have moved if I hadn't ended the relationship.

My thought, though correct, is disgusting. What a jerk I can be.

...

I don't like this area.

When I first visited Charleston (WV), I went to the Capitol building and the nearby State Museum. I only spent a few hours here, but knew I had to visit again.

So, here I am.

Close to the area I got familiar with? Nope, the opposite side of the city. There are drug addicts and bums and generally questionable people all around.

And me.

Nothing bad has happened (yet; it's only been two days) but I don't feel quite right leaving at any time, especially night.

I already walked (about a mile) downtown twice but have come back during daylight hours. Tomorrow will be different.

Earlier today, I watched a barefoot woman wearing suspenders over a mismatched outfit look through a garbage bag she was carrying. I simply stared until realizing how awful that was, but she moved along and wouldn't have noticed anyway.

What really sucks is I'm so curious about these people- how they got into their situations, what their days are like. Yet I dare not ask. I just ignore them and go about my business, which I doubt is half as interesting as talking to them would be.

What's my point? I don't know that there is one. I'm just wondering if this is what my life has become.

Also, the place I'm in is nice but there is no dining table. And the neighbor's night-time light is right outside the bedroom window.

I have the mentality to be in these situations but I usually hate them.

At least I went to the gym today.

...

I went to a chess MeetUp tonight and it went as I expected it to- I forgot everyone's names instantly, lost easily, tried to learn but was ultimately overcome by the 'I'll probably never see these people again' idea.

'Why bother?' has become a major competitor with 'Why not?' and I don't like it.

But I'm glad I didn't talk myself out of going.

...

My mom would have been 68 today. Maybe I should be upset by or bothered about that in some way but it's just something I realized.

...

I had a waitress who told me it was her first shift. A false sense of honor came over me.

I asked how it was going thus far. Instead of answering that question, she told me it was her third job.

I felt bad for her, followed closely by apathy. Regardless of her situation, she chose it.

Didn't I do the same thing? Probably.

...

Something like this happened at a concert last night:

I went to the toilet-room (there was no bath nor place to rest) and moved back into the crowd. A few minutes later, an aggressive elbow climbed my spine. (The band was not heavy so the audience was not rowdy.) I usually let these things pass but this seemed out of place so I turned around to see some guy holding a beverage in his left hand and assumed drinking it was the cause of the spinal intrusion.

After making sure he had a right arm, I asked if it worked. He said it did so I questioned if he considered using it so elbowing my back wasn't an issue.

Nope.

His response was that he had already been standing there when I moved near him, prompting me to ask if it was his first concert ever but he claimed to have been to "hundreds of shows".

What he didn't say was that he was actively choosing to bother me. I mentioned that out and he *asserted* that I was infringing on his personal space. I pointed out that such a thing does not exist in a crowd. He repeated his claim without adding any information.

Then I used his words against him.

I said that we were not touching until he used his left arm to drink, therefore, if anything, *he* was infringing on *my* personal space.

For a third time, he confidently stated his argument that he was already standing there when I moved near him.

Although true, I realized what kind of person I was dealing with. Nothing I could have said would have been impactful so I simply thanked him and turned around, never to see him again.

That's my version, anyway. His is probably different. And somewhere between the two is what actually occurred.

This probably would have been more interesting had he attacked me or something.

For somebody who hates confrontation, I seem to attract a bunch of it. Then my knees shake uncontrollably.

And here we are.

...

Yesterday, I drove past the cemetery where my father is buried. I haven't been to his grave in over ten years.

So, why didn't I stop? Why would I?

I was against the idea and hated that he put it in his will. I knew then that nobody- including myself- would visit after a little while. And now the space is just being pointlessly filled.

I hate cemeteries.

...

I was reading earlier when an insect (but not a bug) landed on the table.

It seemed to be injured, moving only in short distances and quick motions.

Or, perhaps, it was simply doing back-flips.

I watched until it ceased all activity.

What a privilege.

...

I heard two locals discussing road rage incidents they had seen and was very interested in talking to them. Then the topic changed to how there was no work next week because of Thanksgiving so I shied away.

However, it got me thinking about my own road rage story:

Believe it or else, I used to have ridiculous road rage. (With nobody else in the car, of course.)

Stopped at a red light, the car in front of me began reversing. I had no choice but to back up for a while until it moved into a street spot that was well beyond passed. This wasn't an 'oops' situation, but a 'you have to go around the block now' kind of thing.

I remained next to the car as it settled into the formerly-missed spot. I rolled down my car's window and yelled something at the driver, who got confrontational.

My actions were absolutely justified but were they necessary or helpful in any way? Imagine the mentality of a person who would do such a thing. Would angry words make that person go, 'Oh yeah, I *was* being a jerk'?

No.

And this happened in a city. The guy could have been in a gang or just a lunatic with a gun who'd had a bad day.

If either was the case, you would not be reading this.

From then on, I filed my road rage into the 'Not worth it' category and have not expressed it since.

Mind you, the rage is still alive and well within me, but that's where it stays, even when other drivers are being absolutely horrible.

I bottle it up instead of unleashing. That's healthier, right?

...

When I was in Texas seeing a large statue of a cowboy (or a statue of a large cowboy), an older couple asked me for directions. They had gone to the same place for the past however many years but the road to get there was closed.

Despite repeatedly saying I was not from the area, they boldly kept proposing alternatives- routes I was not even a little bit familiar with.

The one thing I did offer was the map feature on my phone, yet they did not share the location they were seeking, making it truly impossible for me to help.

I suggested asking the clerk at a nearby store, which had apparently never occurred to them. I assume they did so because they parked in that lot and I got out of there as quickly as possible.

Should I have just made something up? Probably.

...

Wasn't this thing supposed to be a chronicle instead of a journal?

Oh well. I'm fine with the change. I suppose.

Currently reading a book I got out of a Little Library. The narrator is gritty and the subject matter leans toward the darker side of life.

He just flashed back to his childhood, specifically when his father got him a crummy present but took the time to explore it with him.

I had the first part. Never the second.

...

Once I finally finish the first draft of the film-script I've been "working on" for over a decade, I have another idea. One that's more personal.

It's called Give & Take. Perhaps Give Or Take would be more appropriate.

...

Today would have been my father's 69th birthday.

Why did I mention it? I never cared while he was alive.

...

I went to a zoo today for the first time since... no idea. I never liked zoos because there is usually very little to learn and the animals are just there, on display. It's weird. And they're doing regular things like eating, napping, walking around. Nothing exciting happens.

On the way in, protesters were loudly demonstrating against the presumed cruelty or neglect toward the animals inside. I agree that those things should be stopped. I also found those people annoying.

Yes, both feelings are possible.

I also saw a bunch of people in novelty shirts taking pictures they'll likely never look at while their children ran around aimlessly screaming.

My instinct was to hate them but I was also jealous in the 'ignorance is bliss' kind of way.

It must be really nice to get so much joy out of such a simple time.

There was also a lot of bamboo. I dislike pandas.

...

I had dinner tonight with my friend Sylvia, where I also met her husband Josh. It was short but very nice.

Toward the end, Sylvia and I reminisced about how we met last year, so here's that story:

The Icelandic metal band Skalmold announced they would be performing a special show at a great venue in Reykjavik for their second album's 10th anniversary. I immediately put it on my calendar then did nothing with it until months later, when I was checking on such things.

'Well, am I going or not?'

I decided to go but quickly found tickets had been sold out. And in other countries, sold out means someone who wants to go cannot, as opposed to the U.S., where that potential attendee could see a performance but would have to pay at least double the cost of the ticket because the system is atrocious.

But that's another story.

Expecting nothing to come of it, I commented on Skalmold's page that I was interested if anybody had an extra ticket.

Enter: Sylvia.

She was set to travel with her daughter-in-law but that was no longer happening. (Long story.) So, if I truly wanted the ticket, it was mine.

Too good to be true, I thought, and waited for "Sylvia" to ask me for money as part of some scam.

But that never happened. We chatted and everything seemed legitimate.

Then Skalmold announced a second show because the initial one was so popular. I bought two tickets for that to even out the ones Sylvia had.

We met, saw the band, and it was incredible.

I guess the moral is that sometimes you should trust people.

Also, go to Iceland.

...

Earlier today, I was going to visit the William M. Bass Forensic Anthropology Center at the University Of Tennessee.

That place is better known as the Body Farm, where actual human bodies lay in various stages of decomposition for the sake of research.

An active laboratory.

It's obviously located on the school's campus, near the medical facility.

Driving to the location, I saw people going into the hospital for whatever ailments they had. And I was going past it all to take a picture with the site's sign.

Ashamed of myself, I turned around.

Important research is happening at a place that changes lives. That's much bigger than anything I wanted to do.

…

My current post-California idea (not yet a plan) is this: go to Hawaii and check out Volcanoes National Park, take tours in south-east Asia to see interesting things and eat many noodle dishes, go to Australia and New Zealand, take a tour of Patagonia, visit the Atacama Desert and its observatory in Chile, see my family in Mexico City, return to California and drive east, get a place in the Lehigh Valley and go to school for something involving Sustainability.

Right now, I don't know if any of that will happen. And, really, the only thing getting in its way is myself. That's what my life has become.

...

I was justifiably called out for my last post for being too negative. It was by someone I dated most of this Summer who felt kind of insulted that I omitted the good parts, some of which she was a part of.

Without listing everything, here are some highlights of my time in Easton- drag queen Bingo and (separately) a Golden Girls parody written by one of the queens, hiking and hammering at Ringing Rocks Park, random bar trivia, seeing friends, playing with dogs.

She and I also went to a place called Terry's, which (to me, at least) is a very amusing name for an Italian Restaurant, not a ristorante. It was nice and the food really good so there was probably no joke intended but I'm sticking with the possibility that it was the case.

Thinking about positive things is nice.

...

Tomorrow closes this chapter of my vagabonding experience. I'll be leaving Easton.

How has my time here been?

Wasted, largely.

Upon arrival, I wanted to accomplish four things before leaving: 1) finish a movie script; 2) get my legs and lower back in better shape; 3) volunteer as much as possible; 4) learn how to play the drums.

And this is how I did...

1) Barely worked on the script; 2) I've joined a gym but didn't go often enough and could have definitely exercised on my own more; 3) I volunteered at four places, two of which I stopped after a few shifts, one ended up being completely unfulfilling, and the other place I stuck out, though I could have helped there more than I did; 4) I set up my electronic drum kit within the first few days and it was right in my face but I ignored it more days than not; also, I took two lessons from an insane guy then stopped because it was up to me to set up the next one.

I spent a lot of time alone, especially at the bungalow I've been renting. It's so isolated that not leaving would likely result in zero human interactions. It's probably fitting I avoided that happening but finally did it today.

Will my next chapter have me feeling this useless? I would think not, but I said the same thing before coming here.

Time, as always, will tell...

...

This morning, I saw the building of a restaurant that closed years ago will be demolished and people in the comments were upset, largely because they had been going there since childhood. Even the empty building and parking lot meant something to them.

My father worked at that place when he was a teenager and got me my first job there. I've been a few times since quitting but never felt attached to it.

Related, a Nabisco factory near where I grew up also closed a few years ago and has been getting taken apart. I never worked there but would open my car's windows when passing because the smell was always delightful.

When it was announced the place would close and be destroyed, people were upset. It had been a landmark of sorts and was more important than being "just a business" to locals.

Is nostalgia a good thing?

...

I've always hated that other planets, moons, and stars have interesting and historical names yet we got stuck with Earth, The Moon, and The Sun.

We made the system up! Shouldn't we have reserved the best names for ourselves? Or was it an exercise in humility?

...

Today was my last shift volunteering at the food pantry I've been going to for many weeks. On my way there, I began to get choked up. Some might call this feeling something.

But that subsided and the time went on as usual. I took a picture with the people I've worked with and gotten to know, though I wouldn't quite call friends.

Knowing you'll (probably) never see someone again is an odd thing.

It reminds me of a few months ago, when I was working on a farm for 10 days. A woman who lived there (renting, not working) wished me "Have a nice life" when we said farewell.

That struck me as rude but quickly turned to realistic because it was true- there was no reason to think we'd ever see each other again.

But today... I don't know. It felt different. Maybe that's because it was the only consistent thing I've had in my life this Summer.

...

Things have always been average for me. Boring, I might say.

I rarely get into bad situations yet good ones may be just as uncommon. Most of the time, an experience is forgettable.

And that's fine occasionally but not constantly. Good things are blah, bad things are inconvenient.

I should provide an example of this but am too tired to think of one right now.

...

With less than a week left in Easton, I'm very ready to leave. Just get me out of here. I am ready for the next thing, even if it sucks. I can't stand lazy days in the bungalow anymore.

...

I went to see Monty Python's Meaning Of Life tonight for its 40th anniversary.

The theater was not full but that did not stop an old lady who laughed at everything from sitting directly next to me.

Yes, I know the film was a comedy but she seriously made some kind of noise every five seconds- laughter, wheezing, a sort of chirping sound.

It was horrendous. And of course I thought about enduring it for nearly two hours but gave up and moved down the row after maybe ten minutes. I could still hear her but it was actually less, as hoped.

Empty seats surrounded me but beyond them on the other side from the wheezing woman was a guy who answered his phone mid-movie. I never thought that sort of thing actually happened but there it was, a few feet from me.

I looked at him and audibly said, "Really?"

That did nothing but thankfully he did have the sense to tell the caller he would talk to them in an hour and hung up.

Great movie but I wish I'd experienced anything else tonight.

...

If an actual magician made something disappear, I would not be impressed. However, when an illusionist tricks me into believing the object disappeared, I am in awe.

...

A bartender was wearing a Subaru shirt, as was one of the employees, who I later learned was his girlfriend.

I asked why they were wearing the shirts and was told they both drive Subarus.

I do as well but have no such shirt.

He then showed me a picture of his vehicle and recited all the modifications he's done to it. I had no idea what most of them were but didn't care enough (or at all) to ask.

He just... offered up the information. Why do people do that!?

...

Months before this journey began, I had a dating app (Bumble) profile and kept it going while vagabonding. As made clear, I was not looking to hook up but instead experience new people and places, in an attempt to be more social.

Aside from a relationship that formed with someone I'd met before leaving, here is the noticeably-short list of my encounters:

*Victoria – one message followed by nothing
*Sheryl – one message followed by nothing
*Rebekah – a traveller who sent nothing after one message until sending two pictures of herself at an event I told her about
*Rachel – was willing to meet up but had her kids until Sunday and I was leaving Friday; her kids switch houses every week, like I did growing up
*Kate – we had a plan to meet but she cancelled because “something came up”
*Heather – had a plan to meet but she hurt her back and cancelled, though we later had dinner and a nice chat at GWARbar
*CC – drove an hour each way to meet me after briefly messaging during the day; I felt like it was a waste of her time
*Brandy – one message followed by nothing
*Autumn – we did not meet while geographically close but did in Savannah, Georgia; had a plan to hang out again but that did not happen

Since then, I gave up and deleted my account, realizing my major flaw was probably looking for non-dates on a dating platform.

...

Do hipsters still exist? I feel like they always have but perhaps in less-dramatic form.

I saw a guy at a bar with thick-framed glasses and a beard wearing a Starbucks shirt. He left at some point, which I thought was horrible since more than half of his beer was still in the glass. Then I thought it was even more horrible upon seeing him through the window, vaping.

I wanted to poison his drink but am pretty much incapable of acting on mean thoughts. Plus, I don't know how to obtain such things.

...

I was thinking about the dog my ex and I got together.

His name was Fill. She chose the pronunciation but the spelling was mine.

He was a great dog who somehow knew things, like ringing bells to go outside, without being taught.

Whenever I came back from anywhere, he would excitedly wait for me to sit on the couch so he could jump on my lap. Eventually, this led to me purposely delaying, just to mess with him.

Keeping a creature from something he enjoyed brought me pleasure. But it was "cute", so it's OK.

When we gave him up during a complicated situation, there was no fanfare. Someone took Fill's leash, led him away, and that was that.

For the first time in a while and the last time as of this writing, I cried. His ignorance was what got to me. Fill had no idea he would never see the people who raised him again.

The place that took him said he got adopted by a farm in New York.

A few months later, I was set to volunteer at a farm in New York. The odds were crazily against Fill being there but the possibility existed.

I wondered if he would recognize me and, if so, what we would do after our initial embrace. It's not like you can "catch up" with a dog.

'So what have you been doing?'

'Driving around unsuccessfully trying to find a spark of some kind. You?'

'Chewing things and chasing creatures and sleeping upside-down.'

Fill, of course, was not at that farm. And perhaps it was better that way.

...

At no point during my vagabonding have I regretted leaving my house. It was a decision that had to be made, though I was years late in doing so.

For the majority of the past fifteen years, I have felt unproductive and lazy. I have also been un-guided, which my therapist brought to my attention has been an important factor during most of my life.

There is an idea called ‘benign negligence’, which in my case basically means I was given fundamental things (food, clothing, etc.) but not much more. I had material items but nobody taught me life skills.

My parents divorced when I was young and I have no memory of them together. As a couple, anyway. My dad was not so much strict as rigid and expected things to go in certain directions. My mom was a lot more easy-going but also suffered from Manic Depression.

I am an only child who switched houses between these two every Friday until my senior year of high school.

An example of their different attitudes- I was grounded for two weeks (not because of anything interesting; probably for getting lower than a B on something), which meant I was unable to see my girlfriend. Anybody who recalls high school knows this was nearly impossible to deal with. At my dad’s house that first week, I was not to see her and that was that. My mom, on the other hand, let me out to pick her up from work.

I tended to prefer the weeks with my mom.

…

Table For One

For me, introverted vagabonding has largely meant dining alone. A certain negative stigma is attached to sitting anywhere but at the bar when going to a restaurant solo.

In Boise, I went to a German-style pub and sat at a long table where a couple was already seated. And I was prepared to mingle with anyone who would indulge me.

Until a group of 20-somethings walked in.

People at a table-for-two were getting up so the 20-somethings asked the couple at my table if they would sit in the open space, leaving the long table just for them.

And me, who they did not acknowledge the entire time.

Instead of moving or getting my food to go, I sat and listened to their tales of drunken debauchery while one shouted at the college football game on TV. All the while, I thought that if somebody asked me on the way which one specific group of people I would have no interest in talking to, the answer would have been this crew.

I ended up holding my spot at the table while eating lunch (out of spite?) but certainly did not come out victorious.

So, why did I stay there?

For one thing, the company was nice. I usually avoid talking to strangers but being surrounded by them can be comforting for a reason that probably has to do with an unconscious desire for human connection. Or something.

I have thankfully not run into a situation like that again but have certainly dined alone many times since. Even when others are doing the same, I feel like I am somehow not doing it correctly. They seem better at it and more confident.

At a trivia night in South Carolina, an older lady asked if I was in college, then a college-aged bartender called me ‘sir’. I took both as compliments.

...

A friend told me about another friend's wife's first marriage.

No. Let me start that over...

I heard a story about a couple getting divorced.

She was diagnosed with late-stage cancer and he left, apparently because he didn't want to deal with the situation, though I'm guessing there was more to the story.

Good for him.

Not that what he did was noble in any way but he was insanely realistic about things. His daily existence would have been a struggle- taking her to doctors, cancelling plans, talking to people who care. And, ultimately, it all would have been for nothing.

However, she beat the cancer and survived.

Good for her.

And good for my friend, who is now her husband.

Often enough, I can't help but think about that first guy. Does he regret his decision? Does he know she made it?

A lot of people would probably consider that situation and think they would never leave, and maybe that's true. But it's easy to look at something from the outside.

Being faced with that and given the idea of leaving would mess some people up. I think they would at least think about it but far fewer would actually go through with it.

And why?

Love or obligation- call it what you will.

Hopefully, I'll never be challenged by such circumstances. I really don't know what I would choose to do.

...

One of my least-favorite parts of vagabonding has been people referring to it as a trip. They are well-meaning and not foolish for thinking such, but this is my life. Wherever I sleep is where I live, even if tomorrow brings a different address.

This is no vacation and has certainly not felt like one. It is a life-style I should be enjoying but have not been.

I blame a big part of that on my introversion. So many times, I thought about doing or saying something only to decide against it. Or, commonly, talk myself out of it.

A friend's mom gave me a book called Blue Highways by William Least Heat-Moon. It came out in the early 1980s and first-person details when he left his hometown for a life on the road. I find it interesting and relatable but am also jealous of the adventures he talks about, namely that he has them at all. He is out-going and has practical skills (like knowing how to start a campfire), which makes his vagabonding experience worthwhile.

I, on the other hand, am simply going places, finding things to occupy my time, then moving on. I have met very few people in the past 9+ months and have a chronicle of places I have visited but no real “stories” to speak of.

One aspect of the book I dislike is that it presents most of his journey as engaging. From experience, I can say with certainty that it was not. He has made no mention, say, of searching for a bathroom. Then again, that might not make for an interesting part of the tale. The book is very “real” but I wish it was also such in the other way.

I need to start doing things I want to do instead of picking a place and making the best of it. For example, I went to the Vermont History Museum in Montpelier, not because I have always wanted to go there, but because it was a thing to do.

...

Taking a tour of a new place is a great way to learn and meet people at the same time. Unless, of course, you are on the tour alone and the guide hesitatingly proceeds. This has happened to me a number of times. I did get to learn but spent a lot of the time thinking about the fact that I was the only person being led around. Was it just that other people are lame? Am I? Or was the timing just poor?

...

An important but often over-looked aspect of vagabonding is getting laundry done. Booking a place with machines or finding a nearby establishment is crucial.

In Syracuse, I utilized a laundromat for the first time. (Yes, I am 41.) It went exactly as I thought it would, all for $3.50.

What I did not expect was that every other customer would be loud and angry. One of them used a dryer’s window as a mirror to comb his hair and I wondered why he made such an effort, since he was wearing sweat-pants and a ripped T-shirt.

I did not talk to anybody at the place, save for one of the workers who told me a machine had an extra 20 minutes on it, which were mine for free if I wanted them. (I had already put my load in.)

The fact that I was reading a book definitely made me stand out. I thought doing so was standard laundromat procedure. Instead, the other patrons spoke loudly on their phones (or to themselves) and harassed the pizzeria next door.

The experience made me feel superior, though I am certainly not so. I was just more well-behaved. Sometimes that can be a weakness.

...

I prefer going to museums by myself because I feel bad for moving slower than someone else’s pace. (Others are *always* faster than I am, in museums and in general.)

I have been to all sorts of museums- state history, battlefields, farms, planetariums. (‘Planetaria’ is an acceptable pluralization but I think it sounds weird. And annoying.) They have mostly been great but my only consistent complaint about them is that there is so much information given. By the time I get to any exhibit, I have already forgotten most of what I read in the previous one.

One thing I have learned while vagabonding is that science museums are commonly catered to children, which I think is great but would rather not be around.

Plus, people tend to find a solitary male in a place teeming with kids off-putting, to say the least. I usually care not how others view me but chaperones’ staring eyes is not something I've gotten used to.

...

We have probably all seen pictures on social media of friend’s or family’s vacations. The people involved might be in front of an interesting monument or holding a drink somewhere, looking like they are having an excellent time.

What commonly does not get posted (or even photographed) is the same people sitting at the airport or dealing with a bratty child.

Why? Because those things are not glamorous.

Early in this journey, I posted a picture of me just sitting on the floor, not doing nor wearing anything special. That is what most of travel is like and it should not be hidden.

Obstacles can even be used to propel the story. For example, instead of complaining about lots of rain, take pictures of yourselves *in* the rain, being unhappy if that is how you feel. Then do something enjoyable despite the rain- what you were originally going to do or a completely different activity.

All emotions should be explored, not just the positive ones. If your day is tough, say so. And take a picture of yourself having a less-than-great time. Do not hide the fact that your flight was delayed.

Embrace the negative and maybe even turn it into something positive. It just might work.

...

Here is an example of how I think:

While hiking, I absolutely hate when people going the other way say something cordial to me. Are we friends now because we are in the same place at the same time? Do you do this at the super-market or while stuck in traffic?

What jerks.

But if they pass without saying anything, I hate that as well. How rude. What, are you too good to just say ‘hi’ to somebody? There is no excuse to avert common politeness.

And would I say ‘hi’ if the other person fails to? Of course not. I am no monster.

Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.

...

“When the leaves turn upside-down, you know rain is coming,” said Joe, whose grandfather used to work on this same farm.

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