Fuck I'm bored.
Something must be seriously up for me to use the F word right here in the blog.
It took long enough to get comfortable with the S word.
And you can forget me ever spewing out the C word.
But nothing in particular is up besides the usual dreariness of this dream life I've got myself into.
It's a champagne problem, I realize. To be gainfully employed as a writer in the creative department of an advertising agency, living in Santa Monica and seeing the ocean everyday. I actually saw dolphins and a rainbow on the drive into work today. All I needed was a unicorn for the perfect trifecta picture of paradise.
Yet is a very important word.
Yet, I've grown tired of this straight line. This building of a CV, an account balance, a down payment, etc. I would like to twirl out of this building of things and flit about with a complete disregard for sensible living. To check out of my current definition of self.
My current self was photographed by my coworker at lunch time today while she was pumping gas. The photo above was me being really in my stuff, which is being really done with this straight line.
That's why I'm gazing at Europe these days. It's made up of a lot of squiggly lines. All those countries. All those places to see. All those people to meet. All the photos I could take and the fun blog posts I could write. Ohhhh it makes my teeth tingle. And all that without a plan of where and how long?
Speaking of not knowing where on earth to go... have you got an idea, dear reader?
Let's say I end in Rome. Where should I begin?