Derik Badman's Journal

There's been a Yoshitoshi print show up at the Philadelphia Museum of Art all summer. Before it even opened, I marked my calendar because I wanted to go see it (Japanese prints (or really prints of any kind) don't often get displayed in quantity). Months later, the show closes tomorrow and I still haven't been to it. The museum is fairly close, a drive, or a train ride and a walk, but it always just seems like too much effort. Not in a lazy way, but in the way that any travel for me becomes an obstacle in my head. Even if I know it's a simple trip, the closer the travel gets in time the more apprehensive I get about it. I don't know that I can even explain it, because I'm not sure I understand it.

It's not that I haven't travelled a bit: I've taken pretty long car trips, I've flown to California twice. But in some of those cases, I like I was motivated because I wanted to get away from where I was or there was some imagined goal (often visiting a girl I liked). But for a long time now, I'm happy in my home and life (and wife), I like being in my house, and there is alway so much that I can do here already.

I do liking going to museums and seeing new scenery but I also am just not that motivated for all the bother I feel travelling is. And sometimes I feel guilt about it (Edit: clearly, as I just wrote about the topic 2 weeks earlier), because it's become this cultural expectation to travel and see places, and because I know Lianne would like to travel places more. But I also need to not feel guilty about it, because why should I? Plenty of humans have spent their whole lives without even getting as many places as I have been. If I want to stay home, that's fine, that's just how I am.