A few days into the trip, I posted my first string of photos from Vancouver. I sat in my Seattle residence, pleased as a kid drinking punch that the world was about to see how amazing the kick off of my trip was.
I posted this alone. In a house I was sitting. Alone. Tucked in for the night. My head buzzing. My wallet not fat enough to take advantage of the night life. Alone.
Many hours of my life have been - regrettably - dedicated to scrolling through my Facebook feed. Coincidentally, many hours of my life have been dedicated to being miserable. My adult jobs have pretty much always ranged somewhere between lackluster and sucking on some hard, demonic balls. My romantic life has always ranged somewhere between nonexistent and disappointing. And my goals and aspirations have floundered right around the "what a nice hobby you have, dumpling" realm. Essentially, I'm a perfect candidate for Voyeuristic Toxic Shock Syndrome (VTSS). You know, when you leave the tampon known as social media inside you for way, WAY too long.
It beats you down; staring at the fantastic lives of people you either hate, love, or kind of can't remember how you even met to begin with. (The answer is: drunk.)
"Hey, there's Chad swimming with sharks in Borneo. Wow, that's cool."
"AnneMarie's new job has a standing Friday night tradition of drinks atop the Wit once a month. Man, that'd be so sweet."
"Gloria and Terry just got engaged hiking Mt. Everest. Hope they make it down. But still, fuckin' rad, man."
The problem is, however, that no one is happy all the time. No one is happy all the time. Let me repeat that once more, NO ONE IS HAPPY ALL THE TIME. However, most people project a life of happiness to their peers. Aside from the high schoolers you have randomly befriended on Facebook (I did a community theater production of "Auntie Mame"! I swear! - Don't worry. We get it), we are used to seeing the high earmarks of each others lives. Long gone are the mopey Dashboard lyrics and intentionally vague "Wish it was yesterday...:(" posts (hopefully).
So I refused to allow my trip to contribute to VTSS. Yes, I had an absolutely spectacular time. And I encourage any and everyone to travel as much as humanly possible. I also encourage any and everyone to travel alone at least once in their lives. You will change. Hopefully for the better. Please don't come back a douche bag. We need far less of those.
As I sat alone; lonely, I knew that there was no way to properly convey the lows of my trip - the only antidote for VTSS. But there were lows. You can't travel for a month by yourself with a constant smile on your face. No one is a marshmallow Peep.
Here is a list of bummers I encountered on my trip (that I will get into more detail as I journal for your bemusement):
- Arriving far too early for my first sunset and growing more and more bored as I watched friends together on the beach.
- Getting locked out of the house I was housesitting. And the ensuing panic attack.
- Walking for hours trying to get to this ONE BAR because I did this trip without wifi. Ergo, without bus routes.
- Getting lost on a bike for hours with the final dregs of water in my belly and not my bottle.
- My plantar fasciitis kicking in as I realized my bus doesn't run past midnight and Portland is a black hole for cabs.
- Being alone when I've thought every thought I could possibly think. Twice.
- The only day of rain for an entire month occurring while I camped.
- Not being able to shower for 3 days while still forcing myself to walk the streets of San Francisco in uncharacteristic 90 degree heat. Uphill. Always uphill.
- Feeling lonely.
- So. Many. Meals. Alone.
- Breaking the heart of someone I care deeply.
So yes, my trip was amazing. And the good outweighs the bad. But before I continue with this series, I felt it was important to inform you all about the depressing lows. This trip wasn't some fantasy land to which I escaped for one month. It was just an extension of life. And life is going to suck a good portion of the time.
Because social media doesn't portray life. It portrays the cinematic version of it. The parts we want the world to see. Edited to reflect a happier version of ourselves than we care to admit.
Please remember that the next time Erica and Frank post pictures of their dream wedding. Yes, their wedding was a beautiful affair, and deserves to be celebrated. But they are married now. And how often are we going to see pictures of their financial woes when Frank gets let off? Are they going to post pictures of their difficulties getting pregnant? The affair that Erica had during the seven year itch? The inevitable distance that grows between them as they realize they bypassed their hopes and dreams to follow a life suited for society instead of themselves? I may be projecting with that last one.
The point is, I stopped posting pictures because I want to show them to friends and family with a personal explanation. Not to inject it into the ether of the Internet for near strangers to interpret. I resisted journaling in web form in lieu of journaling on paper. On a coast. Staring at the sunset over the Pacific Ocean. Listening to Father John Misty. I ignored Snapchatting airport and train station scenes with a neck pillow draped around me. Because there's no story in that. Simply a projection. A projection that takes zero to little effort for me to post, yet can send an unsuspecting voyeur's world into turmoil.
So the next time you click that button that sends your thoughts into the vastness of cyberspace, think about what you are trying to say. Why are you sharing this with people you'd probably pretend you didn't see if you saw them on the train? What's your end game? To boost yourself by attaining likes? To show everyone how awesome your life is? Because remember, someone may not be living the fantastic life you are living right now. And likewise, you may not always be living your fantastic life. So in the style of The Most Interesting Man in the World: Post responsibly, my friends.
*I will be continuing this series with a retrospective view of my trip in lieu of posting some day-to-day play-by-play with little creative pursuit. Up next: Vancouver*
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