The Traveling Itch

It's at my sides, it's in my fingers, it's pushing all other thoughts out of mind.....I've got the traveling itch. I miss the beaches of Barcelona, where the red rope structure stands in a pyramid reminding me of the duplicate with a variation on shape that stands erect in my elementary school playground in Portland, Maine. See how small the world is? I traveled across the Atlantic to find a piece of architecture made for climbing and it mirrors what I had in my small home town.

The light and the smells outside are of spring. Even though LA lacks seasons, I feel a change. And it's asking for me to change with it. The only problem is I can't pick up and leave to explore San Francisco or New York City or even, dare I mention Paris, with a negative sign next the amount in my checking account. So sad. ::sigh::

When will I be able to just grab a flight on a whim, even if it's $900? Not until I start booking features. Or national commercials, those would be nice too. I dream of the day when I no longer have any debt. Maybe I could win the megabux. This is a big dreaming day; perhaps because I just finished listening to Joan Didion's The Year of Magical Thinking, and I'm half way through Jerry Lewis' Love Story of he and Dean Martin. Didion led this life, well later in life, that was somewhat lavish. Although she was often put up for her journalistic adventures, still she and her husband, had a place in Malibu, a place in New York City, and went back and forth, all over the world they left footprints. I want to be able to do that: track my steps throughout the world.

And I will lay everything down at your feet and follow you throughout the world.