Dear future hubster

Dear future hubster, I thought it was weather-related, but it happens regardless of the continent or the climate. I thought it required the presence or the painful absence of a specific person, but it happens with no relation to anybody in particular. I thought it was event-related, but it happens contextless. In May, I just happen to be like this. Anticipating, feeling deeper, loving more.

Dear future hubster, having spent a significant amount of time reflecting on life course in general and mine in particular, and having concluded that I have been living outside my comfort zone for quite a while, somewhat alarming thoughts rose in my head. While trying to define the fluid concept of the comfort zone, I often refer to my Luxembourg sofa (which is technically Kristina's). Then the Tshukudu one. Pisti's, with the animal bedsheets, and the most refreshing sleeps and occasional Champions' League's finals. Shari's, with history, Ricky Martin music videos and copious amounts of alcohol.  Now, in terms of comfort zone, this seems to suggest that mine involves a sofa, which often isn't mine. 

Dear future hubster, the problem with inspirational people sometimes is that they make you see how the world should be and could be. No that's actually not the problem. The fact that then you want to change the world is not the problem either. It's more that when you're inspired, you want to change the world all at once, make it a better place, where compassion, community, and love are the guiding principles of life, and where cows are not sad any yet you can get cheese (my definition of a win-win). Still, this wouldn't be a problem if it was possible. But the moment we want the world changed in a blink of an eye, we are setting ourselves up for constant, bitter disappointment. Change only works if we do, as any sunset poster quote would tell you, and it only works very, very slowly. And for that, dear future hubster, I promise I will keep trying to change the world one day at the time. I commit to remind myself (and you, and all others involved) that although ...

Dear future hubster, if you ever need to define or measure the extent of my neuroticism and insecurities, consider this: I try to be a safe driver and avoid all possible crashes even on a bumper car track.

Dear future hubster,  I may have mentioned that I no longer get excited about flights of any length, and the longer they are the more I dread them. That is still true. However, I have to admit that there is something comforting in the trip as a whole: taking that long bus ride where all I can do is staring out the window and let my thoughts flow if and where they want to, no reading (yay motion sickness), no urgent anything.  Same at the airport, I just have time to kill, and since this country makes a point of having the crappiest wifi connection in the developed world, my killing time comes down to reading (Nick Hornby really needs to write something new) and people watching. Two of my favourite passtime activities. Besides being excited about the place I'm going to and the people I'll see.