If I’m up this late, I might as well write before bed. I’m trying to write more, though this crazy “vacation” I’m on as my boyfriend likes to call it isn’t much of a vacation. More of a how-many-people-can-I-see rally that has lasted for a month so far. Plus working on top of it isn’t splendid, though I’m happy to be making back the money I spent on my flight over.
My days are filled with family, friends, work, and writing. I’m trying now to make something of this blog and may move it to my own domain pretty soon – just like Jess Dante, a friend who certainly knows her blogging better than me. And I’ve hit the point where it’s happening – instead of latenight searches on Youtube for New England or Boston or Ragged Mt, I’m searching Duomo, Firenze, picturing myself there again.
So I guess that’s it then, a restlessness that emits a hungry growl everytime I plant my feet on the same soil for more than a month now. Really? Am I going to live my life like this forever? Always wanting a ticket booked. Always wanting to run, fly. I’m hoping one day those wings will stop twitching and I’ll be able to sink down into a calm again – but I honestly don’t see that happening anytime soon.