The single-minded pursuit of mischief, revelry, trepidation and glory.
Here's the shimmy:
In roughly three weeks, I will begin a 10 month odyssey that will take me from the sun scorched desert of Australia to the mosquito-infested jungles of Southeast Asia.
If you're looking for a story with all the right elements-- exotic destinations, noble quests, torrid love affairs and penetrating insights into the human psyche-- well, you should probably save yourself some time and get off this page and onto whatever Oprah's endorsing this week. This will not be a dropout art student's predictably unpredictable journey through Tuscany in search of themselves and a notion of home. It will not be a chronicle of overcoming existential crises or a pseudo-inspirational "you-can-do-it-too" novella.
No, this will be the simple ramblings of a disgruntled 9-to-5er with a gift for (subjective) rightful indignation and a lurking tone of condescention. It will be the written testament of whatever I happen to be preoccupied with wherever my pack may rest. More like than not, it will devolve into a journal concerned largely with the glorification of impropriety and the severance of temperance. Everyone knows that's the most interesting part anyway... if you want a description of what to see and do in a place, check Lonely Planet.
Will I update this blog? Who knows. I certainly don't. Frankly, I find myself rather bewildered as to why anyone would bother checking this. Ergo, in all likelihood, finding updates on this page should be the virtual equivalent of whalewatching-- it'll happen eventually if you wait long enough, but don't hold your breath.
That said, I'll do my best to keep the three people that do check it entertained. Momma-- I'm so sorry.