i love vacations; they provide a wondrous outer body experience. ironic that i refer to it as 'outer body' because it's at work that i feel most removed from self. the weekends aren't long enough to provide anything but a reprieve from waking up early. it's only on vacations that the blood rushes back for me to regain all sensation in actually living ie- shaking my toosh like an uncut video chick, scaring helen with my own rendition of the african dance and of course butchering songs at the top of my lungs with no shame or inhibition. i usually return from vacation one of two ways: happy and relaxed, welcoming work thanks to the time off to collect myself; or, sad and dejected that i have to revert to my numb state of mind as a 9-5 zombie. this last trip has left me feeling the side effects of the latter scenario. humans weren't designed to sit in front of a screen all day- i've got the back problems to prove it. ergonimically designed chairs may alleviate the physical ailments but what about the bruised spirit? do we just get old and accept it? nyc, as unique and beautiful as it is, leaves my airway feeling constricted at times. meeting the people in our last trip breathed some life back into my utopian beliefs. guards were down, pretentiousness gone; everyday was just a celebration of life. and although guaging life by way of vacations only produces a biased view, i can't fight the idealist in me that imagines palm trees on park avenue... while standing in a crowded train amongst other ipod listeners who are grudingly making their ways to zombie nation. life should be, and actually is, a great vacation in the making. i just need to continue my faith in the happy ending. 
"the gift of fantasy has meant more to me than my talent for absorbing positive knowledge."
- Albert Einstein
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