Me and My Big Ideas.

Thank you to everyone who piped in on my one (and hopefully only) political post yesterday. I have enjoyed reading people's opinions, and I looked up--and investigated--every single link I was given. I feel more educated on the subject now than ever, and I've decided my choice must come down to what I value most in life...financial responsibility, or family matters. It seems like neither candidate will let me choose both.

Despite what many [or all] of you might think, I don't write posts like that just to stir up a little bit of loco in people's lives.

Oh, who am I kidding? Of course I do.

But I can almost swear never to get political again, on account of every time my phone rang yesterday, I answered it with great trepidation. I was just sure somebody with access to my number was going to really chew me out for going postal and signing up to be a Democrat (which I haven't, but I don't promise I won't make any rash decisions).

Which brings me to the topic of today. Rash decisions.

The most monumental rash decision I ever made was to move to Canada after my first year at ASU didn't go so well. It was monumental because it led me to meet Poor Kyle, and I can honestly say my life has never really been the same since. When I drove North to this country for the first time, and saw all the sights of Alberta, I had no idea the role this place would play in my future.

Here's me, not yet 19 years old, in the midst of said trip. So oblivious to the fact that the bridge I was admiring would soon become a feat of architecture I'd see almost daily.

Another rash decision I made was to pack my bags and become a nanny in French-speaking Belgium. I thought I knew the language, but I knew nothing. It was one of my life's most profound experiences, and I would not have changed it for anything.

I lived in a tower, and to get to my tower I had to climb this itty bitty winding staircase [which I soon discovered to be slippery when wearing socks]. I climbed it at least 10 times a day. There were 16 steps. It was the highlight of...well...it was just a highlight.

It was that voyage that taught me how to truly travel lightly, how to communicate with people in their home country, how to be independent...how to make it on my own. I was in Paris for a week...all by myself. On a "family" trip to Amsterdam, I woke up early one morning to see the Ann Frank House, and wandered through the streets with a map until I eventually got there. I did it. I have a huge sense of confidence (not indestructibility, just confidence) in myself because of all the opportunities I've had to see the world.

Oh, Paris. How I miss you.

And that brings me to my next topic: what if I had a travel blog, documenting all the places I've been or would like to go? Would you read it? Would that be boring? Would you groan at the thought of yet another blog you feel obligated to follow?

Hit me with your honest opinion--I can take it.

I Wonder How Many Readers I'll Estrange in Writing This Post?

Sorry I've been on the down-low lately.

My sister is here to visit me. She's brought along her husband (good guy) and child (even better). We've been having more fun than any family should be allowed to have. I won't post pictures quite yet, because we haven't taken one, or any. But I will--I promise.

Suffice it to say that I may or may not be posting much for the next few days. But I'll be back--I always come back.

Oh, and I might as well answer a question, since I'm here and all...

Question, From RatalieNose [one of my most favourite blog readers]: Camille, if you were still living in the U.S. which presidential candidate would you be voting for?

Picture from here.

Answer, from Me: Barack Obama. And I am still voting, because I'm an American citizen even if I've moved far far away. I'm allowed.

[Now all of you can debate in the comment section as to whether or not I'm telling the truth. Remember I come from Mesa, Arizona and I also have a penchant for sh*t disturbing.]

{This Place Reminds Me of Somewhere I've Been Before.}

I'm in Fargo.

Which is a fancy way of saying, "Meh."

Photo from here. And I drove past this historic theatre on my quest to find a place to lay my head.

Inasmuch as I've just been in a vehicle (albeit the plush leather passenger seat of the Ford F-[I-Forgot-The-Number]-50) for 17 hours, I'm kind of tired.

Hopefully I'll have time to explore this historic city, and then we'll see about writing a real question-answering post.

Also, today marks the 200th post I've written (201 if you count the deleted "Mayberry). Congratulate me if you will, but only because I've stuck with it this long--not because I've changed the world or even slightly altered it.

Someday...

{I've Never Been to Boston In the Fall}

I've never been to Boston in the Fall, and I think I'd like to take a birthday trip there this year.

I mean, why not? I have no job; I have no classes to attend. I have no children to fuss over. I'm turning 22 years old, I have already set a goal to see all fifty states, and I've been given a free airline ticket to anywhere within the continental United States. If I fly into Boston and drive through all of New England, I could cross six states off my list for the price of one! What a deal.

The original intent of my airline ticket gift was to come visit my family in Arizona, but I'll be down in October for a wedding and again in December for Christmas, making a total of five trips down in one year. Plus I'll see all my family in July (Utah family reunion) and my big sister is bringing That Baby up for a visit in August.

So why shouldn't I swing over to Boston in September?

My only problem is that nobody will go with me. [Actually, I don't view this as a problem so much as a minor setback. I mean, I toured Paris for a week all by myself and could not have had a better time.] I'm not afraid of traveling alone--it's just that...well...I won't be able to rent a car once I get there. Because I'm too young.

Also, I would love to meet up with some blogging friends while there, but it seems that my already-sparse readership is especially scant east of Albany, New York [and by "scant" I mean nonexistent].



Short of begging the vast internet world for a travel buddy over the age of 25 (and who wants to tour New England with a stranger? I'd rather be alone [no offense, Internet]), there's really nothing I can do about it. Poor Kyle won't come with me because he doesn't care to, and nobody else I know has the means (either financially, physically, time-wise or child-wise) to come along.

On top of all this, I really don't know how to squeeze all of New England into five or six days by car. In fact, I don't even know if it can be done. Aside from landing in Boston, I haven't a clue as to where I should start.

But now I've confessed I'm going, there's no way I can back out of it. So there it is. I'm going to Boston in the Fall.

And I can't stop singing Veggie Tales because of it: