I've had a thought. More of a realization. I am a total freaking dreamer. When I was just a tween, hiding behind under-eyeliner, I dreamt of the eiffel tower & ivy grown cottages in the hills. After abandoning my skinny jeans for sweats, sweats, and more sweats, it was simply to escape my small town. After reading Eat, Pray, Love, it was Bali (that dream has not faded). But now I am focusing on realistics, or trying to. On vacation I befriended/fell in love with a family from Santa Barbara who mentioned it only takes approximately a year to get residency in California. There was a lump in my throat and a sudden pulse in my heart. I kind of knew California would make an appearance somewhere in my future, but this sudden knowledge, right when I am on the verge of another transfer-- I just knew.
I plan to see it all: the large expanses of desert sand and cluttered cacti, national parks filled with trees of every species and the cleanest air you could find.
Listening to Angus & Julia Stone's new album, burning incense, and contemplating new adventures.
Travel is an experience that books just can not offer.
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