I feel irrationally blue today. I’d rather feel like blue topaz. Or sapphire blue. Something sparkly. Irrationally blue is the blue of the blahs. The blue of five consecutive days stuck on a ship with absolutely nothing to do. And too much time to think.
I mean, it’s beautiful out here. I’m a sea-girl, I need to live near water. The rocking can be soothing (or not…). But at a certain point. Jesus Christ. Water water everywhere and I don’t even have a surfboard or something.
I don’t think it will come as a surprise to anyone that I don’t think I could have been an explorer. Your Columbuses, your de Gamas, your Corteses, even your Pilgrims…I wouldn’t have run with those gangs. The great unknown…totally freaks me out.
Let’s not kid around. This trip is 13 days long, on an enormous tricked out vessel designed to keep you fed and entertained. I can at least get out and take a bit of a walk. Or get on a treadmill and work out the restlessness. Those early travelers went to sea for MONTHS. In tiny wooden vessels. Powered by fickle winds alone.
I am a pussy.
I’m not proud of the fact that I’m underwhelmingly curious. Or courageous. I’m not alive with the sense of infinite possibility. It boggles my mind that men got into their little tinker toy ships with absolutely no. Idea. What the fuck was out there. And thought: “Yes, I want to see. I want to know for myself the shape and breadth of this earth we live on.”
I mean, thank goodness for their adventurous spirits. The uncomfortableness of Manifest Destiny aside, without them Europe would be a lot more crowded, and it’s bad enough in Florence in July. But seriously, without any certainty that they’d find anything, constantly hounded by fears of capsizing and scurvy and running out of food and hostile peoples on distant shores and sea monsters that could eat their boat in a single gulp (they didn’t know, did they? No. They didn’t.): they took a giant leap of faith.
Maybe it was all megalomania. It must be nice to plant a flag and name shit after yourself.
But I think it’s lovely. Poetic. I think it was fueled more by an exuberant sense of discovery and wonder.
I find that sense pretty awesome. And I just so thoroughly lack it, sadly. I know exactly how long it’s going to take to get where I’m going and I’m still on the verge of clawing my eyes out.
The phrase “uncharted territory” just makes my stomach turn. I could hate myself for it, or just accept it as one facet of who I am. I could have been a wife of an explorer. Waiting and worrying at home. I would have excelled at that, really nailed the worrying part. Embrace your talents, right?
Anyway, here’s where you come in. In a world powered by indifferent nature, without Google maps or vitamin supplements or five seasons of The Wire to pass the time, do you think you would have had what it takes to go out and explore this planet we live on? Would sailing the seven seas with just the stars and a compass have appealed to you? Would the bragging rights have made it worth it? Does your sense of the unknown and infinite terrify you? Or does it turn you on?
Tell me. I want to know. I’ve been talking to the same 20 people for 10 days, I’d like some new conversational partners…please.