I’m a nomad.

I never knew I was up until a bit over a year ago. I’ve never identified with the concept of “home,” even though I have relentlessly badgered anyone and everyone for their precise definition of the term. I wondered what was so wrong with me, feeling that way.

I traveled a lot last year. Working for DeviantArt, I have had a lot of flexibility in where I can be while working, but I had never thought to take advantage of it, until starting to date another nomad and being inspired by him and getting a sense of reassurance that I am not alone, crazy, or weird for having these restless feet. Whenever I am grounded into one place, I am constantly walking. When I was a little girl, I was really into cartography and sometimes I think a piece of that is still entrenched in my heart, making me want to step over every piece of land that I can.

I’ve been in Austin for a few months now. I have a “home.” And it feels weird. The closest it felt to “right” was sharing it with someone who I love. But even then, my restless feet were starting to anxiously twitch, ready to step out of this beige-carpeted box of boredom and back into new, challenging things. There’s something about routine, at least for now while I am young, that strips me of my passion–it dulls me. And that’s tough when I’m not happy unless I’m shining.

It’s time for me to go again. Some stuff in my life just got scattered around and I’m left standing here telling myself I can either:

  • Sit around navel-gazing and lamenting and wasting time
  • Realize I care enough about myself and those close to me to do everything I possibly can to make things better.

I’m not one for wasting time. I am one for self-improvement. Not only do I want to make myself happy, but I want to make the people I love and care about happy by proxy. Sometime later next month, I am leaving Austin for some indefinite period of time. So far, I am [probably, although not definitely] going to be visiting:

  • Croatia
  • Serbia
  • Sweden
  • England

But I’m open to this list growing… and I want it to grow. I want to be around other people. I want to meet new people, old friends, current friends, anyone. And I want to see the world. And I want the world to do its magic on me, to blow up the deflated balloon that is my passion, to remind me of what I’m here in this world for, to make me feel good again about making an impact on the world… because I know I have the talent and the energy to do it.

I don’t know when I’m returning. I just know that I’m going. Last year, I went through some incredible conflict while in Paris. I kept telling myself, “I wish I were ‘home’ because the stability would help.” And although I look back on Paris somewhat ruefully, I could never deny to the world that those were some of the most profoundly deep and introspective moments I’ve ever lived, where I found out what a survivalist I am… and that I can do anything I want.

Take it as an apology, people of the general public. I’ve been holding back on you. There’s an amazing woman inside of me… who needs to be set free.