Shinybass post 6/02/2024

I cannot relax.  

Ask anyone who knows, and they will tell you that ‘sitting’ is my least favorite activity. Don’t get me wrong; I can sit. Oh, I can SIT. I can sit on my butt with the BEST of them. I can lie down, I can sleep, I can speak (I won’t beg), wait…I sound like a Border Collie. Maybe that’s me:  always watching, always ready to get to work.  

I was raised near the ocean. Virginia Beach is like the Gulf of Mexico in that we don’t get waves until before or after a major weather event occurs, so it is the perfect type of beach for kids. On those glorious summer days, when the brown-faux wood paneled station wagon was loaded up with our towels, empty peanut butter buckets for sandcastles (yes, we ate BUCKETS of peanut butter) and blue cooler full of bologna sandwiches, I would love riding with the windows down feeling the hot air on my skin and passing through my now-extinct hair. When we finally got to the beach (and argued with each other to make life even more miserable for my Mom, I certainly didn’t sit on the towel or under the umbrella. Nope, I was frying my skin and running like a retriever up and down the shore, chasing birds and digging up anything I could find. There was treasure to be had, right?  

Crap. Maybe I am part canine.  

‘Just come sit’ my wife says to me. Most days, especially these days, I cannot.   

There was a distinct ‘sit and do nothing’ period in my life. It was called ‘college’. So maybe I’m off the hook and don’t need to be microchipped.  

If you have read any of these entries in the past 20 years, you know that I cannot sit idly by in some cookie-cutter hotel room as the world spins outside without me. There is simply room much to see out there. Sadly, strangely, I also feel guilty just ‘hanging out’. I used to play golf, then honestly felt like there was something better I could be doing with 4-5 hours of my day. (Hear that? It’s the collective, audible gasp from midlife men everywhere…) The worst part of golf: driving to my ball. I hate it. In the cart, out of the cart, in the woods, out of the woods… 

Here is how I see it: Sleep later. Get the sleep your body needs, but dammit, why on Earth would you just hang out and ‘kill time’? ‘I’m killing time before_____’. What a crap expression. Do you know how many people wish they were you? Spin that expression around – they would kill for more time. When will you not have any more hours? Of course, we do not know that answer, but man, oh man, why waste the time we have? 

Before we get any further, your time is your business, for sure. If you need self-care, chill time, wind down time, whatever, do it. I am not saying you have to ‘carpenter ant’ your life like me. I’m a nut, a unicorn maybe. If we’re going to have a coffee, let’s have it while walking. I love to sit and chat, but I like to walk and chat more.  

These days, when I go to the beach, I sit in a chair for about 5 minutes. That’s about my sit and do-nothingtime limit. I want to move, swim, dance, be silly, whatever. Sitting is not fun for me. You want to torture me, put me on a tour bus and tell me I can’t get off and stretch my legs for 14 hours. Touring at times is a sick sort of torture for me. Caged rat comes to mind at times.  

‘Then why do it?’ Great question! I’ve slowed touring lately, but the real beauty in touring is the chance to explore; the chance to see something new and learn something every day. I know what my street looks like. I used to know what Nashville looks like. I love seeing where you live! (That’s not creepy at all…) I love exploring the forgotten sides of the city (and by the looks of some midwestern towns, everyone apparently has amnesia), and seeing the places a tour bus can’t go.  

Back to my lack of relaxation. I’m sure there’s a therapist out there chomping at the bit to get me in the chair, but it’s not going to happen. I am perfectly fine staying in motion. I started by saying I cannot relax. As I think about it, that’s not entirely true. My relaxation just comes in different forms than maybe a ‘normal’ human being.  

OK, I’ll backpedal a little bit. I cannot relax when there are too many songs left unwritten, too many rocks to climb, so many seas to sail, and lightning bugs to catch. Once I have painted all the paintings my inner child can paint, walked all the cobblestones, and made my way into all the alleys and coffee shops that this world has to offer, then I shall sleep.  

Maybe my headstone will read ‘Restive in Peace’.  

Now get out and enjoy the world. Or don’t. That leaves more room on the sidewalks for me.  

See you on the road!