It has been almost two years since I went to Central America and realized what my true love in life was: travelling (Well, one of my loves.  I also love cats. And cupcakes.  And something else that starts with 'c', but I'll keep this PG for now).

When I got back from Central America, I was so in love with travelling I saved my ass off and took myself to Australia for six weeks. And since then, I haven't left North America.  Wtf?

My man takes me to the States pretty much all the time now, and not to sound ungrateful, but it's not 'travelling'.  He takes me to fancy hotels, and we eat out at restaurants all the time, all possible amenities provided for.  No adventure, no uncertainty. Lots of fun, yes, but.  I miss the uncertainty.

Not to say I've been lacking adventure completely - when A and I did our east coast trip, we decided as we went along where/what we were doing; we turned my car into a bed for three; and we saw things that rival what I saw in Belize, and Australia, for most gorgeous scenery ever.

But I want to get out of my own again.  I want to do my southeast Asia trip.  Me and my backpack.  I want to go somewhere foreign.  Where I'm challenged, every day, to socialize, adapt, and survive.  Life here in North America is pretty damned easy,  no matter where you turn.

This past year I kept trying to recover from my robbery, and couldn't.  And other things happened which changed my life, in very hard ways, and made it difficult to leave.  When you keep losing friends, it's hard to pick up and run off on the ones that are still here.

But I'm still here.  And part of who I am is having to run off from time to time.  It's the biggest reason I do the job I do: I have the freedom to do what I want, when I want.  I have a good income.  So why the hell haven't I left?  Hmmmmmm.