I’m sitting on an airplane to Chicago as I write this. Just 5 days before this I was boarding a plane back to NYC from a weekend trip to Los Angeles. And in about 2 months I’ll be traveling for 24 hours to get to Melbourne, Australia. That will mark my longest flight alone.
I like being the girl who is “always going somewhere”. I like spending the money I make from my unfulfilling job on experiences that I cherish with people that I love. I’ve never felt fully complete where I am. Never fully settled. Always itching to get away, which my mom and dad can never fully seem to understand. And while I do love stability, and having a comfortable space that’s “mine”, I also get antsy to see new places or get out of that routine I suddenly fell into. I don’t want to be that person who “never left”. Wrapped up in the drama and lives of people who I barely know. I want to explore and see and hear and taste and experience the world. And I want to write. I want to write about it all. I want to inspire people to get out there…and if they aren’t able I want them to feel like they can experience through my lens. I want landscapes and cultures and strangers to continue to inspire me.
I want to keep making friends in places far away that ‘force’ me to visit. I don’t want a life of “I wish I had gone there”. I want to be that aunt, mom, daughter, sister who’s seen it all. So I make it happen. I do research, I keep flight alerts on certain places, and I work with my limited PTO from work.
I’m the girl who loves to travel. Who’s always on a plane. Some people may feel like I’m running away – but in reality I’m becoming even more in touch with myself.