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psipsyY'know how sometimes in your daily travels there's an invisible boundary? It's generally determined by familiarity; like say you take the same turn or exit to go to work or home or wherever, but it's a rare event that you continue on. The few times that you do, it's no longer mundane travel, it is now a journey and usually you're not coming back for several hours or possibly days. Well, lately I've been having dreams where I continue on a little past this self-declared checkpoint, just to flout it. Just to expand my ever-increasing recognizable territory.
This one's easy and self-explanatory to me: As I was growing up, there was always a particular range I would stick to when riding my bike (mostly because I knew that however far I went, I was gonna have to pedal it back), and when I would go anywhere with my parents, it was always to the same places, for the same reasons. It's true that there's more of those "same" places than I could possibly count, but getting to and from them held to a significantly smaller set of courses. Except for once in a great while, we would go outside of this range, and it would usually turn out to be a very long trip indeed. I always looked forward to these.
Nowadays, since I drive myself around, my range has increased dramatically but the rules are more apparent. For example, it's tempting to just up and go one fine weekend and keep going. Then I realize that while that would be fun, it would cease to be fun when it's late Monday morning and I need to be at work but instead I'm 900 miles away from home. So, the boundaries remain, a specific point of delayed return, to define when it stops being familiar and when it starts becoming unknown, uncharted, unexplored. A boundary just to let me know that I'm gonna be a little or possibly a lot further from home than usual.
A boundary that I'm always willing to stretch.
This one's easy and self-explanatory to me: As I was growing up, there was always a particular range I would stick to when riding my bike (mostly because I knew that however far I went, I was gonna have to pedal it back), and when I would go anywhere with my parents, it was always to the same places, for the same reasons. It's true that there's more of those "same" places than I could possibly count, but getting to and from them held to a significantly smaller set of courses. Except for once in a great while, we would go outside of this range, and it would usually turn out to be a very long trip indeed. I always looked forward to these.
Nowadays, since I drive myself around, my range has increased dramatically but the rules are more apparent. For example, it's tempting to just up and go one fine weekend and keep going. Then I realize that while that would be fun, it would cease to be fun when it's late Monday morning and I need to be at work but instead I'm 900 miles away from home. So, the boundaries remain, a specific point of delayed return, to define when it stops being familiar and when it starts becoming unknown, uncharted, unexplored. A boundary just to let me know that I'm gonna be a little or possibly a lot further from home than usual.
A boundary that I'm always willing to stretch.
