Comfort Zones

Pushing myself -- hm, actually it's more like impulsive flinging -- out of comfort zones is not unfamiliar territory for me. While it's true that in some respects, I cling onto the confines of my familiar construct, I also went to college in Chicago without knowing so much as the difference between Midwest and East Coast, let alone a person, and then continued to take my sorry, to-be-bed-bug-bitten tush over to Jerusalem (as in Israel) without knowing hivrit ("Hebrew" in Hebrew -- at least I learned something). I can look at pictures and think fondly of Northwestern and about how I'd like to visit Israel again, but the reality was it was painful and very, very lonely, especially in the beginning.

From Sloane Crosley's How Did You Get This Number?:

While the emotional sum total of my trip would eventually add up to happiness, while I would feel a protective bond with the few objects I acquired in Lisbon — a necklace from a street fair, a piece of cracked tile, a pack of Portuguese cigarettes called "Portuguese" — hidden between the cathedral and castle tours was the truth: I have never felt more alone than I did in Lisbon. A human being can spend only so much time outside her comfort zone before she realizes she is still tethered to it. Like a dog on one of those retractable leashes, I had made it all the way to Europe's curb when I began to feel a slight tug around my neck.

How does she say it so well?! I love writers that can bore into my soul.


And she makes me laugh.