Just like everything else about life, the problem with adventure is that there are no instructions. You’ve heard it before “these darn kids didn’t come with an owner’s manual!” or “this life must be a practice round, if it were the real thing we’d be given better instructions” …wocka-wocka!
|free moustache rides… *giggle*|
I’ve spent most of the last hour hoping the magic of the internet will reveal the custom-designed adventure of my dreams… and it hasn’t (anyone interested in writing a scavenger hunt for me? there should be lots of opportunities to break for snacks and drinks with bubbles in them, a considerable amount of tasks that don’t involve talking to strangers, but just enough that do to keep it lively, walkable is better than driving-required, and I don’t want to have to get naked).
There is a TON of stuff to do here. I live in a city where people come on vacation (thankfully they’ve mostly gone back home because school is back in session), but none of it feels particularly adventurous.
I want to go to:
The “Psychiatry: An Institute of Death” Museum
The Echo Park Time Travel Mart
Peace Awareness Labyrinth and Gardens
I want to take adorable pictures of myself next to:
The Statue of the Businessman whose head is stuck in a building
The 200 orderly lampposts outside of LACMA
and I probably will, but those things don’t feel like “adventure” those feel like things to “do.”
per el dictionario:
[ad-ven-cher] Show IPA noun, verb,ad·ven·tured, ad·ven·tur·ing.
In seeking adventurous activities for this weekend I’m finding myself wanting to do a lot of “planning” which seems to be where I’m getting stuck. If I plan it, it’s not as exciting, unusual, bold, risky, hazardous, or of uncertain outcome because I’m a damn good planner…
I have this idea in my head that getting lost somewhere in Los Angeles and finding my way back home will be an adventure… but I don’t know “how” to do that. I’ve been looking for a manual (there isn’t one).
I’ve got a five year old whose behavior makes him unrecognizable a lot lately–meetings with the principal, navigating the waters of new family relationships and playdates, and homework (homework!) all feel like adventures.
I’m in the early stages of a fantasical relationship–finding the balance between space and connection, learning a new vocabulary of words/facial expressions/wordless moments, and staying in bed all weekend (yes, please) all feel like adventures.
I’m living in a brand new (to me) city–figuring out which trader joe’s to go to and when, not using the GPS (I’ve made it all week so far! woot!), and aiming to not order the same thing at any given restaurant twice in this next year all feel like adventures.
So maybe that’s it. Maybe I’m not giving myself enough credit this week (it makes sense… it’s been a difficult week)… Maybe, like I already said (duh) when I welcomed this “month” in, I’m already adventuring. The adventure of authenticity is enough.
Yes, I could accept the invitation of a stranger to go have drinks or do a variety of other things that sound terrifying but would probably be wonderful…
but AND I can go ahead and reward myself with something fun: exploring an absurd establishment or taking seemingly impromptu but completely staged adorable photographs of myself at Los Angeles landmarks–and THEN spending the rest of the day in bed. I’ve earned it.