*** Warning: This is quite a self-indulgent post for me. ***
... And so I took a holiday. Somewhat.
Looking back on the last several years there is a pattern. I have been on holiday several times. The majority were busman’s holidays. I have invariably brought work from home with me as well for good measure. I've had no holidays without work.
That’s just what you do.
(Especially in research. It’s not like I can leave my research at the office.)
So I took advantage of the fact that I was going to the states to present (x2) and work as a student volunteer at a conference in DC to go on holiday. I extended my flights and bought others. I planned a tour.
(I took some work with me to be getting on with of course. Who needs tourism when you have editing to be getting on with?)
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The first week away was at the conference. Working, presenting and socialising turned out to be pretty full-time, so I didn’t get my additional work done. I hadn’t shaken myself out.
I did have a good try with the facepaint though. [Photoset]
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The second week away involved imposing on an acquaintance in LA. ‘Put me up, I’ll be quiet and get on with work. I’ll be good, you won’t even need to talk to me.’
This started a shift. I did that work I’d brought with me, I procrastinated with tv, but somehow, inevitably I slowly faced the fact I was somewhere new, not Brighton. I was away from all close friends, all procrastinating work. I didn't know what to do with myself - going out exploring on my own was unthinkable.
My rhythms broke, my thinking changed.
For the first time in a decade (or in my life?) I slept in front of people (people I didn’t even know well) with trust – they came, went, chatted, sewed while I slept. I went out and met new people. I slowly remembered just a little bit what it was to be self-sufficient, to understand that my mood was my own and, fundamentally, that I actually quite liked my own company*. I still wasn’t comfortable with the idea that I was completely on my own, but I was working on it.
I made it out and explored. [Photo Set]
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Week three (and a bit) was in Burning Man, about which I shall write more and separately. I didn't camp with my friends from Brighton, a chance choice which helped me further expand this idea of my own individual coherence. It was hard. By the end of the first day (after two days awake) I was hot, lost, dehydrated and fretting that I had friends out there somewhere that I couldn’t find. I had no laptop, no
mobile, no work to read, to hide behind, and I was somewhere alien to everything I knew.
Over the days I slowly coalesced my thoughts, and grounded myself. It was lovely when I found my friends, but it made me realise how much I missed my once independent spirit. I re-evaluated my fear of walking about alone; was alone so bad? Where was my random self-reliance?
I don’t know at what point things shifted, I don’t know that they ever did completely.
All I know is that by the time I left I was happy and content in myself. Closer to someone I recognised. [Photoset]
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Week four culminated with the journey to San Jose from Burning Man, where I realised I was brave enough to rekindle an old friendship, which in turn led me to San Francisco, views, beaches, twisting roads in town and mountain, the smell of eucalyptus, sons of butcher at high speed and good laughs. 
The next day I took my time, rediscovered sleep, encouraged randomness met up with Sophie and went exploring. Oddly happy. [Photoset]
Thankfully this set my mood well for the two days and four flights that my odd travel plans had left me for the journey back to Brighton. I didn’t mind the occasional security issues**, the fact I almost missed one of my connecting flights due to my phone resetting its clock, and I actively rejoiced when my bags turned up with me at my final destination.
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Hopefully I will carry the memories of this time with me for a good while longer.
I had a holiday. I welcomed randomness and wonder back into my life.
More astoundingly I... relaxed.
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