I hate throwing up in front of people. I hate when people can hear me throw up. Both of which are difficult to avoid when you live in a freshman dorm and share a bathroom with 20 other coeds. So I came up with this brilliant idea of walking across the patio to use the bathrooms in the Union (which were usually deserted on weekend mornings) when I got sick.

This plan was all fine and dandy until one fateful morning when I was about to enter the women’s restroom but it was occupied. At this point, things were dire and lord knows I wasn’t going to throw up in front people in a public restroom, of all places. So I obviously chose to dart into the men’s room. Unfortunately for me, about mid-vomit, two gentlemen entered said restroom. So now not only was I stuck vomiting in public, I was stuck vomiting in public in a men’s room. I could do nothing but power on. One of the men asked in a concerned tone: “Is everything all right in there, man?” I responded in what I thought was the most logical manner. I assumed a gruff, manly tone and said “Yeah, dude. Thanks.” After I was done being sick I sat just sat on the toilet and willed time to pass so that I could run away as soon as they left.

Age 20, on a train somewhere between Munich and Frankfort.

Oktoberfest. One word: oof. Let’s just say there were liters of beers consumed. I was in town for the weekend and, by GOLLY, I was going to take full advantage! Unfortunately for my timing, it rained pretty much the entire trip. This proved not only to be a bummer because all the tents filled up very quickly, but because of the mess that occurred. Thousands of people + drunkenness + food vendors = mess. And when you mix that mess with water, well, the ground becomes covered in sludge. And when you mix tipsy Paige with slick, sludge-y ground, you will see her take a few spills. And she will end up coated in what can only be described as a grey paste that smells of sewage.

This is the one time my penchant for packing light turned out to be a curse. I only brought one pair of pants, which I was wearing. And which were covered in sewage paste. Needless to say, my trip home the next morning was not a pleasant one. I spent it wearing toxic jeans while trying to steady myself in a closet of a bathroom on moving train so I could successfully aim my vomit into the toilet. For the record, toilets on trains are pretty damn tiny. Also discovered that day: sewage jeans and the steady motion of trains only exacerbate one’s nausea. The silver lining was that I smelled so awful I had an entire row of the train to myself. Win?

Age 23, on the grounds of the Blue Mosque in Istanbul.

I woke up that morning feeling like crud and wallowed in bed until noon or so, but being the good little tourist I am, I knew I had to persevere through the sick feeling. I was in Istanbul with my good friend from high school and had 8 days to explore, and godammit, I wasn’t going to waste a day in a hotel room! We typically took the tram into the city, but walking nearly a mile to our stop, then being crammed on the train for 20 minutes was unthinkable at that point.

So I insisted we take a cab. Looking back, this may not have been my best plan, for as we neared the city center, the roads got progressively narrower, steeper, and more crowded, and in turn, the cab driver got more and more aggressive. We’d accelerate and STOP. Then a quick turn! Then more acceleration! And another STOP. All the while I had my head between my legs, talking myself down from vomiting in a Turkish taxi. My friend, who felt perfectly fine, tried to make conversation to distract the driver, who kept asking if I was ok, if I’d be sick in his cab.

Finally, mercifully, we made it to our destination: Sultanahmet Square. I unfurled myself from my makeshift fetal position in the cab and stumbled into the square, determined to make the most of the afternoon. First, we stopped at The Obelisk of Theodosius where I dutifully took photographs, even in my sad state. (Look! I even crouched down to get the best shot. EVER THE PROFESSIONAL.)

After the obelisk, we made our way over to the Blue Mosque. Now this is one of the most important sites in Istanbul. Built from 1609 to 1616 during the rule of Ahmed I, it is an architectural achievement. This is the kind of structure you learn about in Art History 101. It is also still currently used as a place of worship. So of course this is the place where I can no longer hold it, where I absolutely have to throw up. And I did. I rushed over to a hedge and I threw up. I threw up on the grounds of the Sultan Ahmed Mosque, a four hundred year old religious site. I’m so very considerate of other cultures.

(And for your viewing pleasure…this is what nauseous Paige looks like when trying to put on a happy face)

For most of life I’ve had a longing, a tugging feeling that I just need to go. To do and see and experience that which I’m not currently doing, seeing, experiencing. To be hurled into a completely different situation, a new start. To shape myself all over again.

In the past, I’ve reacted to my unhappiness, melancholy, or dissatisfaction by listening to that longing, following it wherever it called me. Following that urge was the easy answer; I could simultaneously get away while collecting new experiences. Following it has led me to Maine, DC, France, Tennessee, New York City, and most recently, Dallas.

I first remember feeling this in high school; my goal at that point was to get the hell out of Texas, to go away far, far away. Because even though I loved my friends and my school, I saw Dallas as a fake, plastic city and I needed to leave and go somewhere with culture and history and importance.

So I did.

I went to college as far away as I could, the furthest of any of my classmates, in fact. I started there in the fall, in a school in a quaint little New England town. And I was downright elated that I was finally where I was supposed to be. It was sickeningly picturesque: red brick dorms, hundreds year old buildings named after famous alumni, a campus littered with trees whose leaves were painted brilliant oranges, reds, yellows at the beginning of the school year.

But.

Wouldn’t you know, as much as I tried to ignore it and pretend it wasn’t there, that familiar tugging crept back. Even though this was the place I was supposed to be, even though this is what I’d always wanted…my heart was still pulling me away. That first year of college is when I realized that maybe my desire to go far, far away wasn’t only Dallas’ fault. Maybe it was an inherent part of me.

I’m not really sure what to call it, this tugging feeling, this desire to go. Is it wanderlust? Is it a product of being young? Am I just too choosy? The thing that really gets me about it all is that even once I go and start over somewhere new, I typically end up yearning for the places I left. Never truly satisfied.

Now, I’m here, back in Dallas, and in a place where I’m content…but that longing persists, the strings pulling me away. As much as I try to swallow that feeling and to push away that tugging…I feel it.

I know I should take advantage of the fact that at this point in my life I can just get up and go, relatively easily. Because lord knows that won’t always be the case. So doubtless, though I try to convince myself I won’t… I’ll go. And leave again. And start over, again. And collect more experiences. And collect more failures. And collect more successes.

But I always wonder… Will I ever just be?

Traveled from Maine to NYC to see Cristo’s the Gates in Central Park. So worth the 6+ hour trip.

Central Park, New York City, NY

Februray 2005

A bright summer day in Stowe, VT. With my sister, eating lobster rolls and onion rings for lunch outside.

Stowe, VT

August 13, 2010

Tuesday the 22nd — blue, originally uploaded by Paige Weaver.

Little blue Deux Chevaux. This scene is so terribly French

Anglés, France

August 28, 2009

How fortuitous that Thursday = green = St. Paddy’s Day! This picture couldn’t be more appropriate: a scene of the green Irish countryside, taken from the top of the Blarney Castle (home of the one and only Blarney Stone).

Blarney Castle, County Clark, Ireland

October 14, 2009

Little yellow house, seen along the quaint streets of downtown Stowe

Stowe, Vermont

August 13, 2010

The seaside town of Collioure, known for it’s anchovy (anchois) production

Collioure, France

September 8, 2010

An orange Hawaiian sunset. Thankful that Hawaii seems to have escaped devastation from the tsunami. Praying for those in Japan.

Honolulu, Hawaii

September 24, 2010

In the gardens of Casa Loma, an unfinished castle in Toronto. Begun in 1911, it’s the largest private residence in Canada.

Toronto, Canada

July 25th, 2010