Three Decades on a Blue Marble

:: More rants / raves / reviews here ::

The Blue Marble.

So, I ask you, dear reader, are there two people any more ill-suited than my mother and I to be trapped with on a boat for, say, I don’t know, seven to 10 days?
 
Yea. See, I didn’t think so either.
 
 Grant it, the boat is supposed to be relatively large, but you know what they say about boats (and booze and b****es): never buy or invest in any one of those three things. It’s like throwing your money into a hole. Or something.
 
 Which is why I have to ask myself, why, oh why, am I contemplating taking another cruise to mark three decades on this Earth?
 
And why, WHY, when I had such a terrible time on the last one, which, as an aside, played a pretty hefty role in my failed relationship, would I contemplate hopping aboard another boat? And this time, as if to make matters worse, would I invite my mother?
 
 If I’m being completely honest, though, then I’d have to venture to guess that I’ve already answered those questions. First, I had a lousy time on the last cruise because, well, the nearly-wed thing wasn’t going well and we both knew it and so we had a lousy time. A plus B equals horrible experience, right? Second, I know my mom and I can survive anything when she’s by my side. A-N-Y-T-H-I-N-G.
 
 Like, we didn’t kill each other at the Grand Canyon and I’m pretty sure she doesn’t hate me WRT the OMTs and all the snafus that ensued around that, ahem, particular venture (again, sorry, mom).
 
 I love traveling and vacationing with my mom. Yea, sure, we fight. Just take this latest trip from Baltimore to Philly and back again when she asked me while trapped in the car if I’d ever really been happy.
 
 This. From my mom. Who only recently got happy.
 
 Ouch.
 
 I tried to answer honestly. I don’t recall exactly what I said, but I know that I’m not 100% happy all the time and that I’ve been happier. But I also know that I’ve definitely been more miserable than I am now. The thing is, though, that at least for now, I know I am happier with the misery because I know when I get to the good I’ll actually be *truly* happy.
 
 Regardless of what I might have said or attempted to say, my mom pointed out that she no longer worries about trying to make others happy. She realizes (now) that that’s an impossible task. She’d definitely still love to win the lottery and live in a massive house along the shore, but she wants that for her. No one else. She’s done proving things to other people, which is truly why I want to take a cruise to Alaska for my 30th. It’s not to prove something to him or my Facebook “friends” or even to myself. I just want to travel and take a vacation and be somewhere on my birthday.
 
That’s it.
 
 And, so, why not? Why not go with my mom and be where I want to be?
 
 Not that 30 is any big deal, but I earned it. Actually, it’s really my mom who earned it. WAIT! Hold on. Maybe we earned it!
 
 Say what you will, but this is what I want. I want to travel and I want to see the world and I don’t want to worry any longer about not running or running or dating or not dating or working too much or not having a dog or wanting to spend some QT with my family at thirty or forty or fifty or sixty or whatever. Age doesn’t matter.
 
 Now. Now is what matters.