Trip of a lifetime

I was feeling kind of down the other day as I witnessed those around me taking exciting trips and travelling the world. I felt very “small town” and “stuck” in my life, but sometimes all it takes is a little encouragement to get you out of your routine to shake off those “why NOT me” blues.

Looking over the photos posted by friends on Facebook recently, I realized that many people my age are seeing the world before settling down to a career. Travelling is something I always wanted to do, but it never seemed to be the right time or cost feasible.

I eventually learned that it is never the right time or cost feasible unless you make it so. There will always be something preventing you from travelling unless you save your money specifically for a trip and book time away from your job.

Another reason that I have been feeling a little “out of it” is because my mother recently left for Australia, her second trip in 10 years. I guess I thought that I would be the one taking a big trip like that before she got around to taking her second trip.

Don’t get me wrong, I am happy for her. Her trip was a gift from her best friends’ children (who live in Australia) to help them celebrate their mother’s 60th birthday. Which it turns out, was a very exciting surprise for her friend.

I finally got out of my funk when a friend invited me to attend a Misfits concert in Regina. Not much of trip, but sometimes it helps just to get away.

After convincing me that I was not too old to attend a punk-rock concert, we embarked on our journey. As usual, I was completely unprepared, wearing heels that were far too high to take me through the day.

Now, imagine if I was going on an international trip...I can’t even prepare for a lousy trip to “the city!”

In any case, the concert was very entertaining. I particularly like to watch people in the “Mosh Pit.” This is a form of dance, for those of you who don’t know, that entails thrashing about and ramming into other “dancers.”

It made me think of my own experience with Moshing. I took a hard hit from another Mosher, knocking me onto the ground – hard. At that point I realized that this form of dance was not for me.

So, I decided that next time I begin feeling sorry for myself I will think back to this experience and attempt to “knock” some sense into me.

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