Hey, Where's My Fizzy Umbrella Drink?

I think I'm due for a vacation.

One of the things that has always struck me as strange, though, is the fact that my idea of a "vacation" is different from everybody else's. To most people, a vacation is a basic getaway, a complete escape from the pressure of workaday life. It's a movement from a tense scenario into a more relaxing situation, one that probably involves long distances, new experiences, and alcoholic fruit drinks with little umbrellas in them.

To me, however, a vacation is a question of getting into a different sort of pressure. I'd like to do some of the stuff I've been neglecting, for example: Fiction has slid further and further down the priority list for me recently, and I'd like to take a crack at it again. When was the last time I doodled in my sketch pad, really? When was the last time I searched the bargain bookstores? And when was the last nerdcore gathering I that actually attended?

Oh, don't get me wrong — while I'd jump at the chance to explore a foreign landscape (especially if Hawaii is involved), I think that I've been on too many international junkets already. As a result, I immediately tend to associate these with such things as morbid expense rates, suitcase living, and language barriers. While they never turn out as bad as they seem (and I do enjoy my international junkets), they just look like dismal options in the face of my simpler choices.

Now that I think about it, I may have taken so many genuine vacations that I've developed an affinity for personal getaways. That's remarkably ironic.

For a start, though, my company has generously approved my request for two days' leave for the second week of April. That effectively gives me an entire free week for the whole Philippine holiday season, a span of time that I will spend focusing on one specific task.

Frankly speaking, I'm going to get some sleep. And this is not the eight-hour-long "healthy" sleep that those outspoken media personalities recommend; this is the sleep-like-a-rock sort of sleep, the kind where you nod off at midnight, wake up at eight for a large breakfast, fall asleep at nine, wake up at two for a late lunch, nap for the rest of the afternoon, scrounge up some dinner, and then doze off just before David Letterman introduces his Top Ten list.

Yes, it's the kind of sleep that would make Rip Van Winkle proud. They'll be rewriting the record books, if everything goes according to plan.

But of course everything won't go according to plan, mostly because I'd like to squeeze in some other stuff as well. I'd like to take at least one visit to a day spa, for instance. Or perhaps visit a nice restaurant with some friends. Or catch a random movie with the largest bucket of popcorn I can buy — there are quite a few things that I haven't done for a while.

As much as I'd like to plan out my down time, there's this little squeaky voice in my head that tells me that the act is tantamount to doing more work. It's like bringing your day planner to the Bahamas, I suppose, so I'm not inclined to do that right now.

It'll just be a question of vague plans, I think, and then a brief waiting period. The waiting period is always longer than we think.

I can hear that clock ticking right now. And it will only get louder as the next two weeks roll by.