I have a problem.
If we’re being honest – I have many problems:
– my interminable pottymouth (sorry, Mom)
– the fact NBC canceled Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip after a single season (No, I’m still not over it and as stoked as I am for Newsroom, I will forever lament the loss of Danny Tripp)
– knowing that funneling copious amounts of cheese into my gaping maw will not result in a body like Doutzen Kroes.
Straight men and gay women – I KNOW. And you’re welcome.
But my problem right now is a serious case of wanderlust.
Dana introduced me to the term a few years ago. It means a strong desire for or impulse to wander or travel and explore the world and I have got it bad.
During the past month, I’ve researched (shockingly expensive) trips to the Masai Mara wildlife preserve in Kenya, Uluru in Australia, Yellowstone, Denali and Yosemite.
Let me explain something – I hate nature.
Hate it.
It smells funny, it’s difficult to navigate, the terrain usually sucks, there’s all this weather to contend with and let’s face it — the chance of me being mauled to death by some frenzied animal is much greater out in the middle of nowhere than it is in the Philly suburbs.
Like a bear. Dear God, the bears. They run, they climb trees, they swim and one swipe of a paw could end your life. If the zombie apocalypse happens and it infects the bears, we are beyond fucked.
Also, walking is way more fun when there’s pavement, buildings and swarthy dudes hawking falafel from a cart every ten blocks.
But I’ve had this itch lately be out in the middle of it. Big sky and an endless canopy of stars. Bison grazing on plains. Red rocks and canyons. Trees like Atlas, holding up the heavens.
Obviously, I’ve lost my mind but that’s what wanderlust does to you. It makes you a little nuts, a little itchy, a little restless…which is a little worrisome when you’re prone to these characteristics in the first place.
Unfortunately, this kind of travel isn’t in my immediate future so for right now – I’ll have to satiate my jones by devouring National Geographic Magazine, spending lots of quality time reading Sending Postcards (all the recent posts on Morocco are making me want to pull a Penny Lane like you would not believe) and dreaming of hopping on a plane and flying to anywhere that’ll take me.