Last August, when I left the land of red cups, dubstep, and 2pm wake up calls, I started a new notebook to chronicle my stories of the Pacific Northwest. It took me almost exactly 12 months to fill the pages of that little journal. I just finally put it’s tattered cover to rest. Oregon gave me an amazing amount of inspired doodles and noteworthy adventures. Now, with a new place to call home, I start another notebook.
There is something about a blank journal that intimidates me. It’s too nice. In a way, you don’t want to mess it up with all of your crap. It’s like a smiley face pancake. It looks too good, but then you realize your hunger. So you eat the mouth made of strawberry slices and devour the whip cream hair. Same concept…kind of. What I’m getting at is, at some point, you have to just start writing.
So with my empty notebook at my side, I said goodbye to Mt. Hood, drove a quick 50 hours, and ended up in Vermont. I have a new home, a new job, and a new zest for life. I’m feeling very zesty. (Yea sure, that’s a word.) I don’t know exactly what’s in store for me this winter, but I am ok with that. Actually, I love it. As the days fly by and the pages of my notebook begin to fill, I will happily accept all the adventures that come my way. Happiness folks, it’s the name of the game.