I'm in Miami, b*tch.

I'm not but I would love to go on a vacation.

Well hello there. I figured out it’s Sunday some how so here I am in your inbox once again.

I am continuing on with the subscription donation project. For February and March, the organization is the MENA Arts Advocacy Coalition. If you are new here (welcome!) or need a refresher, you can always find more details on the project on my About page.

I have also decided to extend the paid subscription discount offer! Paid subscriptions are 10% off for the whole next year as a celebration for NYC Decade-aversary. If you want to upgrade, between now and August is a great time.

It’s also also always a great time to share the newsletter. If you do, I can’t promise to take you on a vacation in real time but I can promise to take you on a vacation in your mind.

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When you’re a kid, the definition of ‘vacation’ is narrow.

There are a lot of parameters to what you can do as a vacation when you’re young because you’re limited by various factors. Up until a certain age you, yourself, cannot drive and you, yourself, likely, do not have a disposal income. The scope of any vacation is also subject to the decisions of your guardians or school or team or church, their finances, the economy, the distance, etc. etc. etc. You don’t necessarily get to make a lot of decisions but, hopefully, you do get to go on a fun little trip every now and again. 

Starting about the time I was in middle school, our annual family vacation was to Lincoln City, Oregon. For being basically the same trip every year, it was always something to look forward to. We’d leave Cheney, the town I grew up in, pretty early in the morning, drive seven to eight hours across Washington and Oregon, stop at the Dulles and in Portland, and arrive in Lincoln City sometime in the late afternoon or early evening. From there, the week’s itinerary was some variation on a standard list of activities: the beach, the pool, a few drives up and down the coast, a lighthouse, a specific pizza place, a Tillamook Cheese factory tour, an aquarium or a weird attraction, and, of course, multiple trips to our favorite salt water taffy store. It was a nice yearly tradition that I know was relatively affordable, which was an important factor for us, that I have a lot of fond memories of.

A few other trips would come up from time to time—most commonly trips across Montana to see either or both sides of my family and/or to indulge my Dad by taking him to the stinking outdoors for fishing and falling into creeks and streams. (That was me. I was falling in creeks and streams.) Disneyland once or twice as well. Seattle one year. That was pretty much the full roster. 

I don’t think I’ve been on a real vacation. 

Scratch that. In my adult years, I don’t think I’ve been on a real vacation. 

This is a realization I had not that long ago and it kind of threw me for a loop. I certainly travel a decent amount. By the very nature of living 3000 miles away from my family and some of my friends, I’m making that cross-country journey a couple times a year. I’m no stranger to a standard travel routine and downloading a ton of things I’ll never watch for a six hour plane ride. And yet, I don’t think I’ve ever been on a ‘real’ vacation. 

If I said something along these lines in therapy, I’m sure my therapist would ask, “What does ‘real’ even mean?” 

I’m sorry. You want me to explain my thinking?? That seems incorrect but okay. 

My personal working definition of a ‘real’ vacation* is approximately: a trip you chose, lasting a decent amount of days, to a destination where the main activity is doing…whatever the fuck you want. It’s not a trip for an event or focused on family or an expected trip for a specific purpose. You get to be in charge of all the plans or activities. 

*Because this is the internet, I will add this disclaimer in case someone stumbles upon this post and decides I’ve made an egregious error. This is my personal definition of a ‘vacation.’ Yours is whatever you want it to be. That’s what a vacation is. Good? Good.

Operating under this definition which I’ve just now pinned down (in a very wishy washy way), I have gotten close to a ‘vacation’ a couple of times since I technically became an adult. In college, a few friends and I went to Vegas around our 21st birthdays which would, likely, fit my definition except that I’m not much of a Vegas person. I had a nice time but I probably wasn’t as open to things as I could have been. That’s a me thing. Similarly, my family spent my Mom’s 50th birthday in Vegas but that was a celebratory trip for her that also had a whole host of rough moments. Also in undergrad, I went to Italy and Greece with a small group from school but that was largely an educational trip that was preplanned. Four out of six of us almost always fell asleep on the bus from location to location so there are probably more pictures of us sleeping than anything else. Obviously, we needed more naps and less locations to be. 

Post-undergrad the trips have mostly been for weddings and/or funerals, holidays, playwriting work-related trips, short weekends to see friends, that sort of thing. In the realm of celebratory birthdays, my Aunt celebrated her 60th in Nashville. As happy as I was to celebrate my Aunt, I wasn’t in charge of my activities and that trip also had some rough moments. I guess what I am winding my way to is that I obviously consider ‘travel’ and ‘vacation’ to be two entirely separate things. A vacation often involves travel but travel does not always mean a vacation. 

I’m well aware that my experience is not all that uncommon. Getting older means more obligations and responsibilities, more people to work with and around, and many more factors to consider. For me, and for a lot of people I imagine, the factor at the top of the list is finances. (This again?) The last time I had any amount of a savings account was longer ago than I care to admit so, the idea of having disposable income to travel and/or a whole separate vacation fund is a foreign (wow, jokes) concept. Fully honestly, I’m not noting that to indicate some sort of ‘woe is me’ mindset. Not to be a broken record (yes, to be a broken record), but that’s what therapy is for. It’s just been a reality of my adult years. It’s a reality that I’m hoping changes at some point but that day is not this day.

It’s not that I never get close to a vacation mindset. I do puzzles! And crafts! And bake! And zone out to home reno shows! And watch a whole bunch of Disney content! Exclamation point! I have tools to relieve some of the pressure on ye olde brain box and for now, I’ll consider that a bit of a vacation from what’s happening up there. But most of my current working knowledge of vacations is through media. I’m not mad about it.

Do I have a whole host of long denim overalls favorited on Thredup in preparation of a Grecian sunset and living my best Donna life (minus the three dads)? For sure. Am I constantly building a playlist of songs to listen to in a cabin in the Cotswolds (minus the breakup)? You bet! Am I picking out my best battle-jacket so I can make a good impression on my fellow pirates when I run away to sea? …Okay, that one is more about running away and starting a whole new life but you get the picture. I’m inserting myself into vacations all the time. 

In the middle of my current situation, as I’m trying to figure out how to get closer to the life I want, a ‘real vacation’ feels like a really nice goal to have, actually. It’s so much more fun to think about then, say, unemployment or my financial situation. It’s not quite as wibbly-wobbly of a goal as, say, “success.” It’s something I can be in charge of and doesn't require someone else’s subjective opinion to give the idea (or myself) worth. While neither a vacation or a job necessarily has a timeline beyond AS SOON AS POSSIBLE, planning for a future vacation still feels more tangible than whatever is or is not going to happen tomorrow. 

You know, sometimes I get to the end of writing these posts and think, “Is this anything? Do I just sound sad?” But that’s a rhetorical question and I probably don’t want the answer anyway. I just came here to have a good time, okay?? 

Basically, don’t cry for me Argentina. I’m in Miami, bitch. I’m not actually but the goal of a nebulous vacation sometime in the future is a good reminder of what the sticky notes all over my apartment are trying to remind me of: things can change and nothing is forever.

And no matter what, there’s always a fruity cocktail to be found.