Half-dead crickets keep appearing from out of nowhere in my motel room in Dallas. I found a squashed one under my sink (, must have stepped on it), and I found a couple of legless ones, too – still alive. Damn the housekeeper’s vacuum cleaner.
I’ve seen grasshoppers, but I don’t think I’ve seen any crickets in real life before; plus, I’ve never shared a room with so many. This morning I fed them to the birds that were loitering around outside. There must be something deadly in this room that triggers blackouts. They hardly move – now and then, their antennas would show a little signal. What signal is there to receive, though? I hear no chirp.
This is one of the random things that will always remind me of Dallas.
I’m nearing the end of my holiday, but honestly, I’m not sure if that’s what I really needed. Never mind, let’s say yes.
It’s wrong to believe that you have holes to fill, mysteries to solve or distances to travel. Despite knowing your problem and how to solve it, you have no idea how to make it happen. First, there are other important things to do. Many unpleasant distractions resulted in a lack of time and space for personal activities that stimulate creativity which has always defined you.
However, there will always be important things that need tackling first. I must say that during this holiday, I’ve hardly done any intensive writing or reading. Most of the time, I felt blank anyway; I wasn’t half as creative as I usually am. I travelled by plane, train, motorcoach, van, boat and car, which usually fill me with a sense of escapism. And the exhaustion is different from the one triggered by stress from working a dead-end job.
I get up early naturally. The only thing out of order is my diet, which is normal when you travel. Walmart seems to be the only grocery store here with fresh food. Yet, I don’t have a car, therefore, no convenience. I have no fully equipped kitchen either, and I don’t know what people put in my takeout.
Travelling is fun – if on your own you get to decide what you want to do and when. You focus on your things to do to make the trip worthwhile. So I did. But what can you do if every place feels the same? The place doesn’t necessarily inspire you or distract you the way you want.
If I feel most at ease in the library, I shall go there, and it makes no difference which one it is and where.
I’m still conflicted between two worlds – one that helps me identify myself, whereas, in the other world, I have to play the game even though I couldn’t care less.
Actually, not much has changed – my point of view hasn’t changed; my concentration still lacks depth and clarity. On the other hand, I engaged in solitary pastimes, lived up my independence, and fed my crickets to the hungry birds.
I just feel far from home.