My alternate hobby of browsing real estate listings (and imagining I live there) has crashed into a little tinge of wanderlust. I'm not even traditionally stricken with wanderlust. I don't travel well. I don't even like staying overnight with family. It's just a thing, I'm not in my safe place, which isn't even safe anymore but whatever, I've never gone anywhere or done anything interesting in my 30 years of life.
How cute are some cities? I wonder what it's like to be one of those people who just goes on airbnb and rents a CASTLE for a week. Or what it's like to be born and raised in some beautiful cob house - would I pine for the boring, beige streets of my hometown? Can someone grow sick of rainbow-coloured row houses and intricate Moroccan tiles?
The best part is when these images aren't beating me down but rather striking a fancy. Perhaps I am turning into an optimist. Perhaps I am ready to become less fearful, to think that great things aren't just things that happen to "great" people - that they could happen to me, or to my friends, or to anyone who feels like the small fish in this pond. I don't choose an official "word" for every year, but if I did, it would be something akin to the word "open" because I've been receiving universal signals. People are reaching out to me. I'm riding another little cosmic wave. Here I am, universe! I'm ready.
This all sounds very familiar.
Hello! I'm Melissa, and here you'll find some behind-the-scenes footage of an artful life. Won't you join me?