I’m feeling 30 getting closer. I cannot sleep, I cannot hold onto my hair, and Rockstars equal life. I like being me, mostly, and I am really hoping that I have a really beautiful decade. It seems moments away. Meanwhile, my trip back home feels almost over before it has started. Time off is past due, as I’ve complained about recently. I do not look forward to the heat, but I do look forward to the rest. And I miss my family.
I’m reading a book about an older gentleman who I kinda wish I could become, but becoming him would mean a lifetime of being alone. Perhaps I need to concentrate on just being the best me I can be and stop romanticizing what it would be like to be a dreamy old man who is easily duped. Still, I like the idea of it.
I want to go to Iceland. The importance of money is apparent when there are dreams begging for a chance to be fulfilled. Oh, Iceland. And France. And India… and… ….