To be honest, I'm not sure which road has made all the difference.
The infamous Vietnam Airlines stewardess, just anxiously waiting to greet you.
Mary, Jessica and I went to see our first movie in the theaters in 2010, “Up In the Air.”
Thoughts:
I’ve been flying solo in airports since I was 18. If I could make a guesstimate, I’d say I’ve been on over 75 planes by now. Maybe more.
I’ve spent so much time alone in airports | sat next to so many strangers | slept overnight in three airports (soon to be 4).
I’ve explored every wing of several different airports | with my headphones on | walked some of my longest walking meditations in airport terminals |thus, never minded long connecting flights.
I would run through these daydreams of meeting that lone traveling girl of my dreams in the bookstore | then meeting her again in my flight’s boarding line | always romanticizing silly daydreams.
Why am I so infatuated with constantly being in new environments/surroundings? Why do I feel like other places in the world can give me something that living in the United States can’t right now? I’ve questioned myself so often to make sure that my intention behind my frequent traveling wasn’t just some form of self-righteous escapism. I know I’m happy (or at least content) being home in the U.S. near all my friends and family, and it makes sense that I would feel comfortable here, because what’s more comfortable than being in your primary comfort zone / the one community that you’ve spent the most time building in your life? But, I guess the only time I feel truly at peace with no anxiety whatsoever, is when I think I’ll be somewhere new soon; when I”m not feeling stagnant, but feeling like I’m “on the move.” I think it’s partly harmless excitement and anticipation to see how my life unfolds (which seems ordinary), but I recognize that it holds me back from being completely “present.”
The one thing I can sorta make sense of, is that I’ve come to realize how much I want to live with difficult challenges. It may be the Vietnamese work ethic that my parents instilled in me (although, our motivations are clearly different since their’s was a matter of survival), and perhaps it involves an acceptance of the fact that life should inevitably be challenging, but I just don’t think I’d ever want to be comfortable and spoiled. It’s not that I like being a busy bee- oh, it’s far from that. I think I like not having it all figured out. I like living in a state of confusion (makes every day interesting, right?), like I’m living some video game where I have to absolutely try my hardest to make sense of things. I like having to always problem solve or be somewhere where all of my previously-learned perceptions and knowledge contribute to understanding nothing. I enjoy being in a new place and starting from a point of “lost,” so that I can work towards the point where I feel like I’ve completed whatever it was I was supposed to learn there. I like how I have to put so much effort into adapting to new surroundings and am so magnetized to the process of transforming that initial experience of discomfort into one of, well, comfort. It’s exciting. It feels important. It feels rewarding. It feels like I’m actually doing something of value in my life.
Maybe I’ll never be satisfied again if I choose to live in an environment that I’ve already figured out. It’s a strange example of being non-committal, because in a way, I’m actually completely committed to understanding that environment at first, until that one point where I get this subconscious green light that says, “Okay. It’s time to leave this joint.”
Perhaps I’m just younger, healthier, and more energetic than I perceive, and this lifestyle choice won’t last much longer; I guess I should just enjoy the fact that I have the ability to do the things I’m doing. Other times, I daydream that I’ll never find something to ground/stabilize me, and I was chosen to live this life in an eternal state of transience. I guess I’ll never know until I’m older if that’s a good or bad thing for me.
Well, since I’ve only been analyzing the negative undertones behind the frequency of my traveling, I should at least shed light on the other end of the spectrum: appreciation that the year 2009 was by far my most traveled year (that’s pretty cool.) I’m 23 years old, and I’ve covered a pretty large chunk of the world already. Neato bean burrito.
A 2009 Hy Huynh Timeline (for future, old man Hy with memory loss)
Hy Huynh
