“The world is a book, and those who do not travel read only a page.”

– St. Augustine 354 AD

As Emily Dickinson wrote, “To live is so startling it leaves little time for anything else.” Yet I’ve found myself drawn back into the familiar trudge of being a homebody, being slave to depression and poverty, while wistfully sighing over the seemingly endless stream of far-away adventuring Instragrammers with their sunshine filled exotic adventures. As someone who once traveled across the world alone and knows the soul-filling capacity of travel, my heart aches much these days.

As a child, time seemed to be vague, ambigious at best. There was a sunrise and a sunset, but at the end of the day, time did not seem to exist outside of homework deadlines and afternoon snack. Until adulthood, I never really took notice of its passage. It was seemingly effortless, not affecting me in a way I could comprehend. Yes, I would technically get older each year and progress to a new grade, new classes, etc. But in the broader sense, not much changed. I still lived in the same house, the same town, went to the same stores, had the same friends – a time “bubble” if you will.

Events in our lives happen in a given sequence in time, but their significance to ourselves find their own order through the continuous thread of revelation. The latter part happening more rapidly as of late. College ushered in a new book in my life as I lived on my own for the first time and then leapt across the world to the far reaches of New Zealand with nary a thought to normalcy. Although I returned with my tail between my legs due to being victim to being abroad during the global economic collapse and my own declining health, the lessons I learned from living alone overseas shaped the foundations of the adult I am today.

The chapters of childhood have long closed and the written pages are being crafted of my life as an adult. It was not at all what I was expecting. Now I fully understand many adult’s depressed desires to return to a youthful state. I did not take into account just how much I had taken for granted when I was younger. Naturally I had the childhood bruises and scraped knees, but nothing from the eyes of a child can prepare you for the pain of heartbreak, destitution, of dealing with friends’ suicides, drug addictions, overdoses, and having your own body ripped apart. (Not to mention the fiscal, emotional, mental, and societal responsibilities of being an adult).

I’ve realised that half our life is spent trying to find something to do with the time we have rushed through life trying to save.

Still, I find myself wondering if my time is well spent. Much gets sacrificed to my disabilities or unfortunate mental health that I find myself grabbing for social media as priority over the movement of my own two feet. It’s easy. It’s comfortable. It’s safe.

But fulfilling?

Not in the slightest. I find myself longing for something much, much bigger. Now that’s not to say I have not grasped it on occasion. Between the new experiences of work on film sets and the intermittent thrills of photographing cosplays in the wild, I get to dip my toe back into adventure. But my heart longs for more.

What’s a poor girl to do?

After much debate, I’ve decided I’m going to embrace the locale I currently reside rather than constantly have my eyes coveting far away destinations out of my monetary reach. There is SO MUCH richness that Georgia has to offer in a wide variety of backgrounds. From towering stone ruins to mini grand canyons to the largest Indian temple outside of India to the one of the largest blooming of cherry trees outside of Japan. I want to connect with more local photographers, local historical sites, local bloggers, local natural wonders!  (If you’re local and want to collaborate, please message me or leave a comment!)

Though it wouldn’t be me if there wasn’t some aspect of geekery involved. I’m sure the word “travel blogger” brings particular image to mind, especially in regards to Instagram. A solitary figure (usually female) admist a sprawling vast wilderness or exotic landscape, bedecked in a flowing dress and matching hair. While it may be a cliched image these days, I still love it. The images provoke a feeling, a stirring within me (be that wonder, awe, or jealousy). The twist I’d like to bring to the table is to mimic the same style, but instead of it just being yours truly as the figure (because let’s face it, I would be lost in the sea of white female Instagrammers), it would be me as various fandom characters; like Lara Croft, Carmen Sandiego, Daenerys, Belle, Bladerunner, etc.

The internet boasts a lot of travel bloggers as it stands, each trying to make their stamp of individuality. This is mine. For I am not content to simply stand by to watch others have adventures or to relegate costumes to convention halls. (One of my favourite experiences to date is still wandering up the densely fog covered Stone Mountain in my Rey costume. A dismally grey day that would’ve otherwise kept me bound to bed.)

So in conclusion…

There is no time like the present. Let’s go on an Adventure!