A multi-month trip across a continent by motorcycle isn't a vacation, despite what many people may think. It requires discipline and sacrifices before, during, and even after.
Before I left, I sacrificed time and energy in order to prepare mentally, physically, and financially for the trip. Now that I am on the road, every day I evaluate each choice to make sure my time, energy, and money are being used as efficiently as possible. Examples include eating canned pig liver, camping between my bike and an air-conditioning unit behind a gas station per a friendly hobo's recommendation, and descending canyon roads after midnight with the motor off and the bike in neutral (ok, so the last one was kind of fun).
After turning down dozens of massages by attractive women (though something tells me I would have encountered more than pan-flute ambient music and hot stone treatment had I said ''yes'') and after all of the stomach-shrinking and nights shivering in a tent, I thought I had built up enough mental fortitude to overcome discomfort, loneliness, and homesickness.
Today I found out I was wrong.
Allow me to explain. This afternoon I received an event invitation via facebook from a relative back home in Texas. Normally it is easy for me to decline such invitations given the fact that I am tens of thousands of miles away pursuing my passion, but this time was different. The event in question is a joint party for my cousins' eighth and first birthdays, and those who know me well would attest that running around with a bunch of little kids and eating tons of food are two things that I never turn down. However, it was the theme of the party that really caught my eye:
MRW I realized that I, in fact, will not be able to attend the Star Wars Backyard Bash....