Wednesday, May 16, 2012

Okay so the formatting for the last post was all messed up. Sorry about that. I'm not sure what went wrong there.

Anyway, I'm sitting in my parent's house stranded because there's no where to go. Even if I did, the seven dollars I have to my name isn't enough to fill up my car with even three gallons of gas. I've spent the majority of my day having staring contests with my cat who appears to be dead on the floor. Correction: her eyes are open and she's looking directly at me with what I can only assume are bad intentions. So while I sit here in perpetual fear that my psychotic feline will come flying at me like a bat out of hell, I suppose I'll post an entry.

Here's what I'd rather be doing:

I'd just have landed in one of these places with only a bathing suit, sunglasses, and a notebook (pen included). I'd find a spot on the nearest beach and lay in the sand taking in my surroundings. After the sun got too hot, I'd walk around and try to find something to do--maybe work in a surf shop, or a hotel or even selling fruit on the beach. If this failed, I'd go back to my space on the sand and pretend to be a famous travel writer, conducting fake interviews with tourists and locals. Friends would be made and drinks would be shared. These new friends would inevitably hear about how my editor had botched my housing arrangements and invite me to stay with them a few days. During that time, I'd find a way to turn my seven dollars into seven hundred, which would be more than enough to last me the first month. I'd stay for several months after that, spending a part of each day writing about my experiences in this new place. Upon my return to the states, my posts about this faraway paradise would have become so popular, my next trip abroad would already be funded and I'd have to start planning my next adventure. :)

But for now, I'm stuck with my cat no where near a beach, resigned to visual standoffs in the solitude of my bedroom.

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