Knock Knock September 23, 2024

It was yesterday when something quite unfortunate occurred during band rehearsal. Perhaps because I hadn't eaten breakfast, I felt disconnected from my sense of balance. Suddenly, my vision blurred and I collapsed face-first onto the floor. Strangely, I didn't experience the intense pain I would have expected after such a fall—maybe due to some bodily pain regulation mechanism. Biology! The more noticeable sensation was akin to water flooding my ears, muffling all sound, accompanied by overwhelming dizziness that left me seeing nothing but darkness despite my open eyes.

During my fall, I accidentally knocked over a friend's iPad—I'm truly sorry about that! With my friends' assistance, I managed to stand and rest in a chair for about five minutes until my mind cleared somewhat. Curiously, I can't recall anything from that precise moment; all of this is a paraphrased version of what my friends later recounted to me. Thanks to my body's remarkable recovery abilities, I felt nothing beyond those painful five minutes in a semi-conscious state.

I awoke this morning with my body aching; there's a slight bruise on my nose and jaw, and I still experience mild dizziness accompanied by a headache. However, these symptoms provide perfect excuses to skip classes and gently decline other people's requests, allowing me to cook for myself, play piano, and enjoy proper rest. It's been quite some time since I've had such a legitimate reason to apologetically turn people down—an unexpected silver lining.

This situation prompted me to think about the concept of travel. I'm not certain when I lost interest in trips or vacations. Not that I dislike going out generally—I still like the moments observing strangers and passing cars on unfamiliar streets, or wandering into random shops on sweltering summer days. But "traveling" has become an oddly distant term to me; I'm unsure what response it should evoke.

People speak of visiting somewhere different, somewhere distinctly unlike our homes; these destinations are often characterized by their potential for maximized sensory excitement or pleasure, as if our non-traveling days are so genuinely boring that we must treasure these few allocated days each year to experience everything possible at any cost.

It was never my intention to critique this perspective, nor mock those who hold it, but these reflections stem from my recent travel experiences. Regardless of my companions, the experiences felt remarkably similar. Perhaps I'm merely laughing at myself for repeatedly believing in travel's promise despite consistently underwhelming experiences.

Maybe accepting diverse viewpoints on this subject is wiser. Just as most people focus more on ideas themselves rather than their origins, instead of delving into theories and psychological concepts, perhaps simply going with the flow is easier. Writing all this serves primarily to clarify my thoughts, both for others and my future self, after experiencing such a jarring incident.

To me, understanding the reasoning behind others' perspectives is more valuable than critiquing them or attempting to sway them toward mine. This might align with saying, "I might disagree, but I can see where you're coming from."

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