It’s 9 a.m. on Christmas morning, and I’m starting a blog; thus breaking every New Year’s resolution I’ve made since about 2004. I am not a fan of blogs. The internet has made it too easy for any idiot with a keyboard to sound off. Sure, there are some people whose insight is worth sharing. I am not one of those people. Neither are 99% of bloggers. Most people are pretty average, and sadly those with blogs are often below average. I’d say about 99.3% of the time, I'm flat out boring. I go to work, I watch TV, I hang out my boring, average friends. Yet, every so often, I do something that gives people pause and makes them say, “hey maybe we should give that girl a closer look.” Then, I inevitably start talking about my cats or an episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer I recently saw, and that elusive 0.7% of me is gone again.
I started thinking about my averageness a lot this last week while vacationing in the Caribbean. My husband and I visited a little island off Puerto Rico called Vieques. Puerto Rico is an interesting place. It’s sort of Spanish and sort of American. Apparently, Puerto Ricans can fight in our wars but cannot vote for our president. That’s messed up. I had to resist the urge to wear an "I Voted" sticker for fear of an international (or maybe just national…this territory thing is very confusing) diplomacy crisis. But I digress.
Because Vieques is sort of part of our country, a lot of U.S. ex-pats (or sort of ex-pats) have moved there. This meant that I did not even attempt to speak Spanish the entire time I was on the island. Now, before you pin me as an ugly American tourist, I spent 2 weeks in Costa Rica on my honeymoon and readily used what little Spanish I knew (mostly a lot of gesturing) to get by. I can do it when I have to.
Anyway…the ex-pats were sick of their average existences in the U.S. and decided to take up the island life. Most of them work in restaurants, run inns, or act as tour guides. Of course, as the sun bore down and the pina coladas took hold, I couldn’t help but fantasize about what a lovely life that would be. Every day you wake up to 80-something degree weather, turquoise waters, herds of dogs, semi-wild horses, and iguanas at your doorstep. "Those ex-pats," I thought, "they’re not the 99%." They denied the ordinary life and aspired to something more. They can come to this beach any time they want to frolic or snorkel or boogie board. The rest of us have to save up our money and put in vacation requests. We spend a week or two in paradise and then it’s back to our cubicles where we spend the remaining 50 weeks of the year fantasizing about quitting our jobs and moving to this white-sanded oasis.
Yet, just as I was about to denounce my country, I started wondering, “hey where are all those ex-pats?” In the 5 days I spent going to the beach, I saw not a one. That’s because they were all at work. Sure, they could wear tank tops in the winter and look out on the sparkling sea, but just like the rest of us, they had a job they had to go to every day. I talked to one guy who was stressing out over his job and his ex girlfriend. Hmm, that sounds familiar. And he doesn’t even have a trip to Vieques to look forward to!
Wow, I hate to admit this, but blogging is sort of fun. I’m really just doing it to put on my resume (honestly, what writer doesn’t have the foresight to make a portfolio?), but now I’m thinking I have a ton to say! Oh thank you internet for pumping me full of these delusions of grandeur. In my next installment, I’ll post some pictures from my trip and hope that someone is interested enough to read about it.
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