Chrisonomicon

Thursday, November 29, 2001

I?m leaving for San Francisco today and, in a way, it feels as though I?m going home despite the fact that I?ve never been there except for a brief stay with the family back in 1983 or 1984.

The airport is eerily quiet. Only a handful of passengers and airline workers fill my view of an otherwise lifeless terminal. Occasionally, a voice will echo throughout the terminal, booming from the intercoms. Single conversations can be heard and understood. A laugh or the sound of a cash register will sometimes puncture the quiet din. My flight leaves in three and a half hours, so I?ve got a bit of a wait ahead of me and I?m making friends with the calm.

A kid around my age just sat down in the row of seats to my left and I?m attempting to make out his appearance without being too conspicuous. He?s working a crossword and his arms are thin. He?s wearing glasses. These simple, physical details are all I can get down on paper, but my mind races at a thousand images per second, wondering what his story is, who he is, where he comes from, filling in the blanks. Sometimes I look in the mirror and step away from my life to see what blanks about myself my mind might fill in. What would I see or think? Sometimes something interesting will pop into mind, and I can spend a few seconds imagining it to life.

In a way, that?s what this trip is. When Peter and I spoke last, he mentioned sensing I should get out and travel somewhere before Christmas. After writing my book, the Nanowrimo party seemed like a perfect excuse to do so. This trip is also an experiment of sorts, in that I?m going with no real plan besides meeting up with Jessie and attending the party on Saturday night. I haven?t made hotel or lodging reservations. Originally, I had planned to stay with Jessie, but my pesky allergies deemed the decision unwise, so now I?m going with little-to-no plan. It?s sort of exciting to an extent. On top of going without plans, I?ve also managed to pack everything into a backpack so I?d be mobile and not burdened with luggage. These two things go against everything I?ve built up as habit in the past, but as I read in my grad advisor?s office, growth only comes from questioning habits and perceptions.

For some reason, this questioning fills me with a quiet fire, burning with the excitement of change and anticipation of opportunity. This feeling is unfamiliar to many people and I wonder what brings some to consider their life and everything within as paramount. The idea that I may be wrong or have universes left to learn fills me with the thrill of adventure.

Questioning one?s self is the pinnacle of human ability, I am convinced.