I'm beginning to have a sinking suspicion that reading travel books might not be the best thing for me at the moment. One of the downsides of being able to travel vicariously all over the world through books is that it makes my cube (home), and my cube away from cube (work) become awfully confining and small. The travel bug I've had for months has now become a strong, debilitating flu, drawing my mind away to some exotic locale when I lose focus.
Thankfully, the trip I'll be taking soon will be a salve. It'll be great being away from computers and email, etc., and I think I might actually be able to relax somewhat, seeing new sites and meeting new people. However, I'm already thoroughly convinced I won't want to come back. There's nothin more demotivating than arriving, dead tired, at Newark after a fun trip.
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