One step backward, one cannon blast forward.

Pulling the thin, pale cotton over my head, permitting a skimming over freshly bathed skin.Familiarity and comfort engulf me as I inhale the scent of this flimsy garment, the scent of my recently abandoned nest. Within the past few days I've managed to shed my job, my home, and all routine, supplanting them with unemployment, a large backpack, and the inklings of a vagabond outlook.In approximately one week, my physical being (and with any luck, my fragmented mind in tow) will be preparing to board an aircraft destined for Lima Peru.

Relinquishing my home of the previous 6 months has likely been the crux of this endeavor; slowly dismantling that magical haven was irksome at best. Each picture peeled from its established post, each trinket placed into a bag or box, resembling a morsel of my quintessence stripped away. Fruition of my packing and cleaning left me feeling placid and exposed. Stranger yet, may have been the brief return to my mother's home (moving back into mom's basement for any duration of time is hardly an indication of progress in my thoughts). My bald soul feeling so fragile, it was nearly overbearing to feel as though I was reversing rather than advancing.

Presently, I'm hardly confident in my machination of travel. Unable to imagine why I would ever desire my own expedition to a foreign land... "It's a dangerous business walking out your front door." written by Tolkien, and by god I feel horribly endangered, enraptured, excited, overwhelmed, and EXHAUSTED!

I question the drive to uproot oneself in the pursuit of.... what? enlightenment? beauty? I don't feel as though I'm "looking for myself" as many do. Perhaps it is the simple notion of 'traveling is good, it will expand your horizons, broaden your character, incite worldliness and culture' that drives me.

Perhaps I need some sleep My brain is requiring screen-saver time.

Bonsoir! orather.... Buenas noches!
Soothing sounds.