Tower Of Song

Yello.
How's the good life treating you then? Plodding along hopefully... willing to punch me for asking such staid questions?

Argh, so desperate to sound cool. Sigh. Ok fine, I take full blame. But in my defense, I didn't have anything to start with, so I shot from the hip. And I'm more Indian than cowboy (*and then proceeds to remove tongue from within cheek*).

Now I've lost my chain of thought. I was going to take the desperate cool forward, but as you saw, my consciousness stepped in. Or something like that.

So instead I'll throw a thought that's been nagging me, your way.

Vacations. I've had it with canned vacations. Like driving out to see fall colours in Vermont, or some stupid trees in DC, going skiing in the Alps/Colorado, golf holidays, going to big cities like Paris, London, or even Miami. I don't really know what exactly I have had it with, what irritates me about them. It's most likely the feeling that they feel so... so safe. So normal. So boring.

And like with most forms of angst, I don't know the solution just yet.

Perhaps Everest Base Camp; Backpacking in colombia, where I don't know the language, maybe biking across it; River rafting for 10 days across a dangerous untamable river; A drinking trip, except one inspired by the ten deadliest drinks (found here, a website The Girl found and one that'll absorb me for the rest of the year for sure).

You got solutions?