Every February, I have to answer the question of where I'm going for spring break. There's a three second pause right after someone asks me where I'm going. My mind races in this moment, weighing pros and cons of admitting the lackluster truth. Subconsciously, I know that my hesitation is a product of self-consciousness. I don't want my answer to alter someone's perception of me, but, at the same time, I think there's no better way to confess social ineptitude than telling someone you're staying home over break.
Still, my answer has always been the same: I'm staying home and working. This is not an exciting answer, and it's never what the person asking wants to hear. After revealing my lack of plans, I field an array of sympathetic sighs and well-intentioned assurances that I'll find something fun to do. I try to convince the other person that I have found something fun to do -- it's nothing, and I've been looking forward to it all semester.
I have my reasons for staying home. One, trips require planning. You have to select a location, book hotel rooms, figure out transportation, and -- god forbid -- budget. It's a different manifestation of work. Two, spring break is not long enough for the kind of travel I'm interested in. It takes me a few days to get over travel sickness and settle into a destination; that doesn't leave much time for adventure on a week-long break. Three, I could use the time off to handle things at home. Boring, domestic things that slip through the cracks of an everyday grind. Laundry, emails, required readings.
Even as I list my reasons for staying home, I have to ask myself why I feel the need to justify my choice. Why do I bother explaining my decision? It's no one's business but mine.
I'm compelled to explain because, for some reason, I feel wrong. I feel like I should be going somewhere. Life is short, and shouldn't we try to experience everything we can? Shouldn't we crave adventures? Yes. But a stamp on your passport does not equal experience. Expensive plane tickets won't guarantee an adventure. I can have exciting moments in my backyard or abroad. It's important that we refrain from defining experience on scales of grandeur, that we see value in the mundane. After all, most of life is comprised of mundane moments.
To my fellow non-spring-breakers: don't be ashamed of staying home. Turn off your phone, sleep in, and enjoy every boring bit of your life. It's all you have.
