Revelations (Part 5)

One of many distractions...

Tonight's post should be a short one, however, I won't know until I am done. There have been many distractions this weekend. Two five-hour car rides with the family. Eating delicious meals with in-laws. Hanging out with out-of-state siblings. Salty air, sandy beaches, and crashing waves. Indeed, it is four in the afternoon on a Sunday, and I need a nap. But, I can't quit now. There is still a restaurant and my brother's pool. While I have a legitimate excuse to skip it, I feel a need to produce something. So, I decided to get started on this post now, before jumping into the shower. 

Fortunately, there is one bathroom in this house, and three people ahead of me. Unfortunately, two have just completed their turns. And the third is on her way. Like I said, this one should be short. 

In an older post, I mentioned how my family enjoy long road trip annually, between five and twelve hours long. My wife does most of driving. I fill in on occasion. Sitting in the front passenger for long stretches of time affords me a great opportunity to be productive. Reading and writing come to mind. Given the number of trips across our adult life times, I could have written at least one novel. Maybe two. Or, I could have finished several books. But, not once have I been able to whip out the laptop or even my Kindle, and start writing down my thoughts, or thumbing through chapters.

Instead, while songs from our favorite playlists fill the car, and help tick away the mile markers, I am daydreaming. With the various landscapes--from decaying strip malls and sprawling warehouses, to  swift rivers and choked forests--whizzing past window, my mind conjures vivid stories and scenarios. One moment I could be leaping from the roof of one car to another, dogging bullets like some superhero movie. In another, I am searching through the rubble of an abandoned store in a post-apocalyptic world. Most of the time, I am creating dialogue with real and imaginary people. Some times the conversations are intellectual; most of the time they play out as mundane misunderstandings. 

In the past, I would have berated myself for not writing any of those musings down. Or for choosing daydreaming over reading a book. This weekend, before leaving home for a five-hour car ride, I let it all go. No laptop. No book. No Kindle. Just me and the family, an iPod full of music, the passing landscapes, and my imaginary chats.

After two decades of fighting it, I have finally accepted that road trips are not places for me to be productive.