Me, According to My Search History
If you looked through my search history, you would think several different women were sharing one computer.
One is studying yoga philosophy and trying to understand spiritual surrender.
Another wants to know whether a cream can do anything about her neck.
One is planning a solo trip to Costa Rica. Another is wondering how long to cook a ribeye in the air fryer.
But they're all me. Sometimes within the same twenty minutes.
My search history suggests that I want to understand the deeper meaning of life, but I also want a printer that isn’t a pain to set up.
I want to learn about the yoga sutras, the chakras, and the nature of the self. I also need to know whether the candles in my outdoor lanterns are going to melt.
And to be honest, right now my life looks a lot like my search history.
I can be all business one minute, talking commercial real estate or attending a conference, and then be perfectly happy hanging out at a barbecue competition with a baseball hat on, smelling like smoke and arguing with someone about whose ribs are better.
Or hiking through the woods, where I have temporarily forgotten my inbox but have stopped fourteen times to take pictures of leaves.
I enjoy getting dressed up and being in a room full of people with ideas. I also enjoy putting on hiking boots and heading somewhere with very few people at all. Or putting on a swim suite and heading to the beach. It does make packing for a weekend an interesting exercise. Will I need a blazer, trail shoes, or extra napkins? Possibly (or probably) all three.
There are practical questions. How much do you tip someone who carries furniture up three flights of stairs? Can I get everything I need for Thailand into a carry-on? What, exactly, am I spending on cat food?
Then there are the Savannah questions. Does she need a kitten? Is she happy being an only cat? What does it mean when she starts meowing before I even get the door open when I come home from work. I bet she has never once Googled whether I need a companion. She seems confiden
t that I have her and that the matter is settled.
My travel searches would suggest I’m rarely home. Bali. Thailand. Africa. I've searched for a room in Ubud where I can walk everywhere, preferably for less than $200 a night and where to to find the best deal on European Christmas markets.
I can spend an entire evening looking at places to go while sitting quite happily on my couch. Then once the trip is booked, I'll start the seach for where my next trip will take me.
And apparently, even while contemplating a spiritual awakening, I still want a nice bathroom at the hotel.
It's really funny seeing all these topics together. In my head, each question makes perfect sense when I ask it. Put them in a list, and I sound like someone preparing to open a yoga retreat, adopt six cats, become a travel writer, and furnish an apartment by Thursday (thankfully the furnishing of my apartment is complete.)
But I like this woman. She has questions. She gets distracted. She looks up one thing and discovers three more things she wants to know.
I hope I never run out of questions.
Although I do wonder how much more I could get done if every quick search didn’t end with seventeen open tabs and a possible trip to Portugal.
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