I quit my job last month to go backpacking across Asia for seven months. Aside from a few panicky moments of “What have I done?”, I am excited and hopeful for my pending adventure. I know that this is what I really want, even need, to do.
The bottom line is that I don’t do normal well. I tried. I tried really hard. I wish I had that thing inside of me that other people have that makes them want all the normal stuff. Get a real job, get married, buy a house, have a baby, a new car, the latest phone, silverware that matches, a weekly manicure, dinner at the trendiest restaurant, a yearly vacation at an all inclusive resort. I tried so hard most of my life to want some or all of those things, but I’m just not good at normal.
Travel is my one true love. When I stay in one spot for too long I feel like I’m suffocating. I become so restless it’s physically painful. I cannot quell my noisy, wanderlust heart with anything other than travel. When I pressed the confirm purchase button for my one way ticket to Bangkok my heart beat a happy song of excitement, pulsing blood from my racing mind to my itchy feet. My loose itenerary for my seven months of gallavanting is sixty days in Thailand, then on to Singapore, Indonesia, Cambodia, Vietnam, Laos, China, Hong Kong, Tibet, Nepal, and India. But this might change. A few times. I haven’t been every where yet, but it’s on my list.
The Plucky Pixie 