Dreaming of you...

I can’t seem to shake my predilection for traveling. For weeks upon weeks I’ve been dreaming of Indonesia. I’ve fallen madly in love with the Bali--it's ornate temples and magenta (the one in the Crayola crayon box) flowers. My desire to travel to Bali did not come from reading Eat, Drink, and Pray. Although I found Elizabeth Gilbert’s TED Talk on creativity to be rather fascinating, I threw her book to the floor after the first chapter. Her exaggerated literary voice was so abrading—I almost broke out in hives.

I may not fancy Gilbert, but alas, I am following in her steps. I guess I see myself in Gilbert--it is somewhat disturbing. Like me, she is a woman who does not know what she wants (despite her recent sequel). She, I, am a vagabond, a pseudo nomad—wandering around from job to job, degree program to degree program, marriage to marriage, country to country, bed to bed.

I am the complicated for absolutely no good reason kind of woman—unsatisfied with life presented. I’ve messed up so many good things and messed over so many good people. I feed for a while--but let’s admit it, I am insatiable.

So, I am off to Bali, for hopefully, a mini revolution. I’ve scoured the web—Expedia, Tripadvisor, Baliblogs to find the best places to stay, eat, and explore. I’ve checked and rechecked my bank account, balanced pros/cons, and opportunity costs—now I just have to purchase the tickets and go. But there are a few issues.

First, I want to see and do Bali with someone who is dedicated to adventure, not just a casual vacationer. I want shared smells and visual maps—I want to jump off the cliff with someone just with as tragically free as I am.

Second, the recession is causing a bit of impotence. I have all the goods, but I keep fearing that the world is going to collapse under my feet again (I’ll write about that later.). So like the depression/post-depression generations, I store money just for the sake of storing it, as there is nothing particularly interesting I want to buy. I’ve lost all desire to purchase a home after the housing bust. I like money, but I’m partial to life experiences and shared happiness.

To put an end to my longing, I am thinking of just booking a flight, before I can look back, and going it alone. Who knows, maybe this will be a break-open experience. I may even get my own book deal out of it ;-)