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I love adventure as much as the next person but I’d never classify myself in any category described by the words “care-free” or “spontaneous”.
What really gets me going every morning, what really gets me excited about sucking in the sweet (gloriously dry) Los Angeles air in the AM, is the knowledge and security that the day I’m waking up to is (almost) entirely planned.
Not the little things like what I will eat or what item of clothing I’ll wear (that’s easy, though: whatever is in the ‘clean’ pile on my bedroom floor as opposed to the ‘dirty pile’ right next to it) but the big things I know about the night before.
I’m going to work (either from the office or from my couch), I’m going to a café to get coffee in the morning (usually Starbucks since I don’t have to drive to get there), I will most likely be ordering in/picking up lunch and dinner, which is a horrible young, unmarried, childless person cliché that I happily perpetuate.
Delicious, delicious perpetuation.
Anyway, my point is, I am a planner.
It’s also cliché to think of people “like me” (young, unmarried, childless) as unhindered by responsibility or commitments to our time outside of work. Sure, it’s much more uninhibited than someone trapped at home by children bouncing off of their walls (and I say ‘trapped’ with all the love one can muster after wiping countless faces, noses, and tushies without a moment’s peace).
But there are still things that shackle me to my home and keep me from hitchhiking across the galaxy. I’ve been meaning to read that series of novels titled similarly–gotta put that on my list. I digress.
I hoard my vacation days for “what-if-emergencies”. I Ebenezer Scrooge the crap out of my paychecks (if you don’t know what that means, you certainly aren’t familiar with the works of Charles Dickens…or the Muppets).
Sometimes, though, I get tired of planning and putting things off for another day.
I get frustrated when friends working full-time, getting paid much more than I do, and with less bills to pay (i.e. an undergraduate education, rent, etc.), use ‘money’ as an excuse not to do something.
Kind of hypocritical if I’m using the same ‘ole excuses. And if I know one thing about myself, it’s that I’m not a hypocrite. That, and I love ice cream. And Parks and Rec.
Last night, while sitting on my couch, I felt an inexplicable tingling sensation in my fingertips.
That funny feeling started to spread up through my palm, into my wrist, and began to irritate my elbows.
“Strange,” I thought to myself as the tingling found it’s way up through my arms, circumnavigated my armpits (because what’s romantic about including armpits in a story? Oh wait…crap), and made it’s way to my brain.
My eyes pointed meaningfully at the laptop sitting beside me. I had just recently relegated the computer to standby status in favor of the Victorian novel North and South by Elizabeth Gaskell (old English Literature Major Habits die hard).
While reading I came across this quote: “Thinking has, many a time, made me sad, darling; but doing never did in all my life. My theory is… ‘Do something, my sister, do good if you can; but, at any rate, do something.'”
Here, my phalanges (that sounds like such a dirty word…good job, Latin) took on a life of their own and quickly typed in a URL that I’d been to many a time in my digital lifespan.
Click. Click. Click.
A box filled in here, a calendar selected there.
Tap. Tap. Click.
Aaaaaand I’m flying to Hawaii next month thanks to the irresponsibly low fares on Orbitz.com.
Can’t wait to see my first round of living spontaneously pay off when I reunite with some awesome friends and enjoy this time of near-but-not-quite-reckless abandon in my life.