I've the utmost unfortunate displeasure and regret to report and inform that fullofhype has returned from his vacation.
The official mourning period, which has started at 1:10 in the afternoon, on the 29th of May, in the year of our Lord 2006, will last as long as when the world was without Light, 'til it was greeted with the glory of Easter. The first day is reserved for the bereaved. The second and the third days are opened to the public. Please convey to the bereaved your heartfelt condolences.
A little j-pop to lighten the graying sky.
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
Friday, May 19, 2006
174: See You Laters, Alligators!
I'm off!
I shall be travelin', travelin', travelin' through Spain.
I shall also be celebrating this Sunday in Spain my Big "Three-Oh!" Birthday.
So wish me "Bon Voyage" and "Happy Birthday."
I'm off!
I shall be travelin', travelin', travelin' through Spain.
I shall also be celebrating this Sunday in Spain my Big "Three-Oh!" Birthday.
So wish me "Bon Voyage" and "Happy Birthday."
I'm off!
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
173: "If I Lay Here"
Chasing Cars - Snow Patrol
We'll do it all
Everything
On our own
Ever wonder if you are truly alive?Everything
On our own
In times of reflection, I find I've let life pass me by.
Too often. With a shrug. Saying, one day it'll be different.
We don't need
Anything
Or anyone
Living vicariously through movies and TV dramas*,Anything
Or anyone
through books and blogs, always through someone else's life...
I need it to stop. I must stop.
If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?
Do I stay here?If I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?
Do I remain the same?
Where's the flash of electricity up my spine?
I don't quite know
How to say
How I feel
Have you ever given up everything?How to say
How I feel
Pushing on, forward ho! To forget the consequences;
To not look back; to never say sorry.
Those three words
Are said too much
They're not enough
Afraid and alone; complacent and stagnant;Are said too much
They're not enough
What is there to lose?
What is there to lose?
If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?
Do I stay here?If I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?
Do I remain the same?
Where's the sudden hold, the quick gasp of breath?
Forget what we're told
Before we get too old
Show me a garden that's bursting into life
Have you ever felt free,Before we get too old
Show me a garden that's bursting into life
Like the common cliché we've all heard before?
Are you flying, soaring, lifted up, up, up and above?
Let's waste time
Chasing cars
Around our heads
Why is it that a junction with many pathsChasing cars
Around our heads
Feels more enslaving
Than a lone, single path?
I need your grace
To remind me
To find my own
I'm ready to burst out,To remind me
To find my own
To make things happen,
To stake out a place of my own.
If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?
Do I stay here?If I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?
Do I remain the same?
Where's the rush, the fast beating of the heart?
Forget what we're told
Before we get too old
Show me a garden that's bursting into life
Have you ever lost yourself,Before we get too old
Show me a garden that's bursting into life
Forgetting the power that's within you,
Killing the divine within?
All that I am
All that I ever was
Is here in your perfect eyes, they're all I can see
I stand, stand tall and proud,All that I ever was
Is here in your perfect eyes, they're all I can see
Ready to fight, ready to fly,
'Cause I need to sacrifice all!
I don't know where
Confused about how as well
Just know that these things will never change for us at all
I may not know where and I may not know how,Confused about how as well
Just know that these things will never change for us at all
But if losing myself is to find myself,
I shall let myself get lost.
If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?
I won't stay here.If I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?
I won't remain the same.
I shall travel far and wide
...for LOVE
* Please note the irony: this post has been inspired by the song and the season finale of Grey's Anatomy.
TAGS: chasing cars snow patrol grey's anatomy lyrics
Monday, May 15, 2006
172: Meat-Free Monday
I'm participating in VUBOQ's Meat-Free Monday. I took this picture with my cellphone. I'm having pasta for lunch. Doesn't it look yummy? In it, there's onions, mushrooms, zucchini, peppers, basil, olives, and garlic. Mmm... Garlic.
TAGS: meat-free monday vuboq pasta
Sunday, May 14, 2006
Monday, May 08, 2006
170: David, David, David...
...You crazy jackass!
So after spending a whole week under water inside a giant sphere, breathing through a regulator, feeding and peeing by tubes (hopefully not the same ones), tonight, David Blaine will... wait for it... hold his breath! For NINE minutes!!! Oh, and he'll be chained up and he has to free himself. Within NINE minutes!!!
Yippee!
I can't wait!
If David can't free himself... I want to see the emergency rescue team jump in to save him. I want to see a hot paramedic do a CPR on him. I want to see the pads of the defibrillator touch his chest: the electricity flowing, his body convulsing.
Now, David's holding his breath.
It's been four minutes.
He's starting to free himself.
It's the six minute mark... He's got his second cuff off. Was it his second one?
Soon after the seven minute mark, divers jump in and take him up (7:08).
He has failed!
But he lives.
And he's crying.
He ain't dead.
...
Too bad.
TAGS: david blaine drowned
So after spending a whole week under water inside a giant sphere, breathing through a regulator, feeding and peeing by tubes (hopefully not the same ones), tonight, David Blaine will... wait for it... hold his breath! For NINE minutes!!! Oh, and he'll be chained up and he has to free himself. Within NINE minutes!!!
Yippee!
I can't wait!
If David can't free himself... I want to see the emergency rescue team jump in to save him. I want to see a hot paramedic do a CPR on him. I want to see the pads of the defibrillator touch his chest: the electricity flowing, his body convulsing.
Now, David's holding his breath.
It's been four minutes.
He's starting to free himself.
It's the six minute mark... He's got his second cuff off. Was it his second one?
Soon after the seven minute mark, divers jump in and take him up (7:08).
He has failed!
But he lives.
And he's crying.
He ain't dead.
...
Too bad.
Sunday, around 5PM
TAGS: david blaine drowned
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
169: It's a Phase
Okay, okay. It's just a phase. It's an obsession. What can I say? But, this is the last one for tonight. You really have to check this one out, yo!
TAGS: immigration youtube native americans pilgrims humour
TAGS: immigration youtube native americans pilgrims humour
168: Equal Opportunity
167: Heart's A-Pumpin'
My God, I so needed it.
I have my arms swinging, my legs flailing. My skin's oozing salt and water, my heart's squeezing blood and air. Inhale, exhale. Huff, puff. I pant, pant, pant. Now, my body throbs with pain and pleasure.
What a great workout!
Tomorrow I may pay for the long overdue workout, and might I add, a strenuous workout. But for now, I lie in the afterglow.
I shall make it a routine in my life.
I have my arms swinging, my legs flailing. My skin's oozing salt and water, my heart's squeezing blood and air. Inhale, exhale. Huff, puff. I pant, pant, pant. Now, my body throbs with pain and pleasure.
What a great workout!
Tomorrow I may pay for the long overdue workout, and might I add, a strenuous workout. But for now, I lie in the afterglow.
I shall make it a routine in my life.
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
166: Parade
I like parades.
Like this one that came down my street:
All they want is a chance for a better life. If they are hard-working, if they can contribute to this society for the better, why, then, deny them the chance? Besides, how can I enjoy myself at a Korean restaurant without the Mexican busboys busing dirty dishes? I don't do dirty, and certainly I don't do slow restaurant service.
Like this one that came down my street:
All they want is a chance for a better life. If they are hard-working, if they can contribute to this society for the better, why, then, deny them the chance? Besides, how can I enjoy myself at a Korean restaurant without the Mexican busboys busing dirty dishes? I don't do dirty, and certainly I don't do slow restaurant service.
Monday, May 01, 2006
165: QueerTube
Confession 1: Initially, I've clicked onto QueerClick for the men. (Not work safe)
Confession 2: Um... I still do.
Confession 3: Now, I click on to watch the video. (Totally work safe)
Like this one:
Confession 2: Um... I still do.
Confession 3: Now, I click on to watch the video. (Totally work safe)
Like this one:
Thursday, April 27, 2006
164: To Lust Or Not To Lust
I think I've made the wrong choice in deciding to go to Spain, when in fact I should be heading down under. To him. Forget the art of literacy. Give me the art of lust. Oh, Brodie Holland.
163: "The Smithy Code"
Apparently there's humor in the British justice system, and thank God for it.
In Today's New York Times, there's an article about the recent copyright ruling of the lawsuit filed by two of the three writers of Holy Blood, Holy Grail against Dan Brown, the writer of The Da Vinci Code. The justice, Peter Smith, who is now my new hero, embedded a coded message, a puzzle, as the article reports, in his ruling. Throughout the 71-page ruling, he italicized certain letters. In the first 13 1/2 pages of the text, the first ten of those abberant typefaced letters spell out "Smithy Code." The next thirty are jumbled; and further clues hidden throughout the ruling are needed to crack the mystery. The fact that, as the article reports, "nobody seemed to notice anything unusual about it when it was first released," would have been "probably [a] disappoint[ment] for Justice Smith."
No doubt.
In this day and age of eletronic media, where we see less of allegories and parables, where we're too busy to read between the lines, I think, we've lost the fun in the art of literacy. 'We want clearly spelled out information NOW,' as the unspoken mantra goes. Where's the fun in that? A while back, I read a post in this one blog where the writer purposely chose not to use a certain letter, I don't remember which, but I think it was a vowel. Genius! Clever! I'd like to see more creative writing in blogs.
But then again, what do I know?
In Today's New York Times, there's an article about the recent copyright ruling of the lawsuit filed by two of the three writers of Holy Blood, Holy Grail against Dan Brown, the writer of The Da Vinci Code. The justice, Peter Smith, who is now my new hero, embedded a coded message, a puzzle, as the article reports, in his ruling. Throughout the 71-page ruling, he italicized certain letters. In the first 13 1/2 pages of the text, the first ten of those abberant typefaced letters spell out "Smithy Code." The next thirty are jumbled; and further clues hidden throughout the ruling are needed to crack the mystery. The fact that, as the article reports, "nobody seemed to notice anything unusual about it when it was first released," would have been "probably [a] disappoint[ment] for Justice Smith."
No doubt.
In this day and age of eletronic media, where we see less of allegories and parables, where we're too busy to read between the lines, I think, we've lost the fun in the art of literacy. 'We want clearly spelled out information NOW,' as the unspoken mantra goes. Where's the fun in that? A while back, I read a post in this one blog where the writer purposely chose not to use a certain letter, I don't remember which, but I think it was a vowel. Genius! Clever! I'd like to see more creative writing in blogs.
But then again, what do I know?
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
161: Appa
Our eyes are glued to the television set.
And the AC hums.
He is on his side, his hand propping up his bald head, his thumb caressing gently the ridges of his ear, him, lying on the tatami mat. Me, I'm sitting. The loose straws tickle my bare calves. I hug in my out-stretched legs, towards my body, as my hands caress the itch away; and I rest my chin on the kneecap, and glance, if for a fleeting moment, at the very first man I have ever loved... and hated, Abeoji, Father.
"You go fuck yourself," he yells. On the TV screen, Sam, Hayden Christensen's character, pleads, no, demands, that he'd not be sent away to his father's place for the summer. "I hate you," he growls.
But inside my Japanese bungalow, the cool air wafts; the AC hums.
The trace aroma of mapo tofu, a meal share between father and son, a meal prepared by the son... (was it a gesture of devotion from the son to his father?) the aroma, a trace of what once was, it seems to linger. Ephemerally. Transiently.
Our eyes are glued to the television set.
As father and son watch a movie about a father and a son, the both of us watching the both of them, fighting to reconnect, fighting to make right, us, we.., I... I think...
...About the man who was never there for me, about the man who made me see my mom's tears flow continents away, about the man who chose this country and his other family over ours. I think about my heart breaking.
Sam again rages at his father, George, played by Kevin Klein, "You are unbelievably stupid!"
I steal a glance. 'Does Abeoji realize the same rage is inside me?' I wonder. 'I hate Japan, I hate my sister, I hate him!'
But the beautifully calligraphed washi paper hanging down from a furin, a wind chime, flutters; the cool air wafts; the AC hums.
George is playing with his baby boy out in the ocean, bouncing up and down with the waves; I am hiding in the attic. The doorbell has rung, and this little boy is ready to surprise. The waves hit them both. Sam embraces George hard, too overjoyed to have his father near; I hear him ask for me. I throw open the trap door and jump. Into his embrace. Too overjoyed to have my Abeoji near.
That moment, George explains, was the happiest he had ever been. That moment, I recall, was my fondest memory of him.
And it's the last time I remember calling him, Appa, Dad. Just plain old Dad.
The furin chimes; the washi flutters; the cool air wafts; the AC hums.
And our eyes are glued to the television set.
And the AC hums.
He is on his side, his hand propping up his bald head, his thumb caressing gently the ridges of his ear, him, lying on the tatami mat. Me, I'm sitting. The loose straws tickle my bare calves. I hug in my out-stretched legs, towards my body, as my hands caress the itch away; and I rest my chin on the kneecap, and glance, if for a fleeting moment, at the very first man I have ever loved... and hated, Abeoji, Father.
"You go fuck yourself," he yells. On the TV screen, Sam, Hayden Christensen's character, pleads, no, demands, that he'd not be sent away to his father's place for the summer. "I hate you," he growls.
But inside my Japanese bungalow, the cool air wafts; the AC hums.
The trace aroma of mapo tofu, a meal share between father and son, a meal prepared by the son... (was it a gesture of devotion from the son to his father?) the aroma, a trace of what once was, it seems to linger. Ephemerally. Transiently.
Our eyes are glued to the television set.
As father and son watch a movie about a father and a son, the both of us watching the both of them, fighting to reconnect, fighting to make right, us, we.., I... I think...
...About the man who was never there for me, about the man who made me see my mom's tears flow continents away, about the man who chose this country and his other family over ours. I think about my heart breaking.
Sam again rages at his father, George, played by Kevin Klein, "You are unbelievably stupid!"
I steal a glance. 'Does Abeoji realize the same rage is inside me?' I wonder. 'I hate Japan, I hate my sister, I hate him!'
But the beautifully calligraphed washi paper hanging down from a furin, a wind chime, flutters; the cool air wafts; the AC hums.
George is playing with his baby boy out in the ocean, bouncing up and down with the waves; I am hiding in the attic. The doorbell has rung, and this little boy is ready to surprise. The waves hit them both. Sam embraces George hard, too overjoyed to have his father near; I hear him ask for me. I throw open the trap door and jump. Into his embrace. Too overjoyed to have my Abeoji near.
That moment, George explains, was the happiest he had ever been. That moment, I recall, was my fondest memory of him.
And it's the last time I remember calling him, Appa, Dad. Just plain old Dad.
The furin chimes; the washi flutters; the cool air wafts; the AC hums.
And our eyes are glued to the television set.
Sunday, April 23, 2006
160: Weekend Update
Enjoyable. (Stomach grumbling.) Exciting. (Stomach grumbling.) Exhausting. (Stomach grumbling.)
Those words pretty much sum up my weekend here in D.C. Oh, yes, by the way, I'm in my hotel room in D.C. ready to turn in, because, well, I'm exhausted. But before I do, let me give you the highlights.
Yesterday, I arrived in D.C. to an overcast sky, and took the Metro over to my old place. While I was away, a new Korean restaurant with a nice decor and delicious foods, something you'd find in NYC or in LA, had opened up, according to my roommate, and he took me there. What a vast improvement in Maryland's Korean food scene. While we ate our Soondubu Chige, we caught up. He regaled me with a story about his recovery from his recent addiction to on-line gambling; I bored him with a tale about my addiction to a masochistic tendency to take on more work than I should take on.
After my late lunch, I metro-ed back to D.C., through the wind and rain, to have the pleasure to meet a fellow blogger, Steven. We went to Halo for their happy hour, 2 for 1, special. Steven graciously bought my drinks. I had the caramel apple martini, which was very caramel-ly and not very apple-ly, for my first drink; and for my second one, I had the appletini, which was very 'tini-ly and not very apple-ly. Steven's friend, Robert, who is also a blogger joined us. The three of us later moved on to Logan Tavern for a late dinner, where two other friends of Steven, Ray and Joey, joined to make a Party of Five. The food was sumptuous, but I guess the alcohol had taken over too much room in my stomach, I barely finished half the plate. Yes, all in all, it was a sunny rainy night.
On my return home, my other roommate was waiting for me. We hung out for a bit, made a run to a 7-11, hung out a little bit more, and then I crashed.
This morning, my stomach was unhappy. And my drinking a god awful Mocha Latte didn't lessen my stomach's unhappiness. But we had made plans for lunch, so the three old roomies found ourselves at a Japanese restaurant eating raw fish. My uncooperative stomach prevented me from enjoying the goodness that was laid before us. But as is the rule, a good conversation can make any meal absolutely yummy.
After lunch, I trekked my way to the hotel. As soon as I got to my room, the porcelain goddess beckoned and I offered her up a sacrifice. I crashed. Again. Then, I woke up a couple of hours later, only to find my troublesome stomach grumbling for food. So, I went outside and walked around looking for a quick dinner. As I was walking around, I realized I was very near to Halo, Logan Tavern, and the Whole Foods Market! A healthy, light dinner from Whole Foods! Dinner, done.
Now, I must go to sleep. Work awaits tomorrow morn.
Those words pretty much sum up my weekend here in D.C. Oh, yes, by the way, I'm in my hotel room in D.C. ready to turn in, because, well, I'm exhausted. But before I do, let me give you the highlights.
Yesterday, I arrived in D.C. to an overcast sky, and took the Metro over to my old place. While I was away, a new Korean restaurant with a nice decor and delicious foods, something you'd find in NYC or in LA, had opened up, according to my roommate, and he took me there. What a vast improvement in Maryland's Korean food scene. While we ate our Soondubu Chige, we caught up. He regaled me with a story about his recovery from his recent addiction to on-line gambling; I bored him with a tale about my addiction to a masochistic tendency to take on more work than I should take on.
After my late lunch, I metro-ed back to D.C., through the wind and rain, to have the pleasure to meet a fellow blogger, Steven. We went to Halo for their happy hour, 2 for 1, special. Steven graciously bought my drinks. I had the caramel apple martini, which was very caramel-ly and not very apple-ly, for my first drink; and for my second one, I had the appletini, which was very 'tini-ly and not very apple-ly. Steven's friend, Robert, who is also a blogger joined us. The three of us later moved on to Logan Tavern for a late dinner, where two other friends of Steven, Ray and Joey, joined to make a Party of Five. The food was sumptuous, but I guess the alcohol had taken over too much room in my stomach, I barely finished half the plate. Yes, all in all, it was a sunny rainy night.
On my return home, my other roommate was waiting for me. We hung out for a bit, made a run to a 7-11, hung out a little bit more, and then I crashed.
This morning, my stomach was unhappy. And my drinking a god awful Mocha Latte didn't lessen my stomach's unhappiness. But we had made plans for lunch, so the three old roomies found ourselves at a Japanese restaurant eating raw fish. My uncooperative stomach prevented me from enjoying the goodness that was laid before us. But as is the rule, a good conversation can make any meal absolutely yummy.
After lunch, I trekked my way to the hotel. As soon as I got to my room, the porcelain goddess beckoned and I offered her up a sacrifice. I crashed. Again. Then, I woke up a couple of hours later, only to find my troublesome stomach grumbling for food. So, I went outside and walked around looking for a quick dinner. As I was walking around, I realized I was very near to Halo, Logan Tavern, and the Whole Foods Market! A healthy, light dinner from Whole Foods! Dinner, done.
Now, I must go to sleep. Work awaits tomorrow morn.
Monday, April 17, 2006
159: Breathe Me
(Breathe me by Sia)
Sigh...I swear my iPod can sense my mood. It's like a mood ring. Hell, my iPod is a moodPod. An evening spent chatting with a friend leaves me from being greatly melancholic to slightly melancholic.
Help,Why is it that when one part of your life goes well another part falls apart?
I have done it again
I have been here many times before,
Hurt myself again today,
And the worst part is there's no-one else to blame.
Be my friend,Seriously, breathe me. I don't smell bad.
Hold me, wrap me up,
Unfold me.
I am small, I'm needy,
Warm me up,
And breathe me.
Ouch,Maybe MyHeritage.com has a point when it says I resemble Asahara. I do suffer from some sort of messianic complex, where I feel I must take a lot more responsibility for events that, even though they're out of my control, somehow affect me, where I become a martyr. Seriously, if I hadn't coughed after I've returned home from a private lesson class I taught at back in Japan and turned on the TV to see the Twin Towers on fire, those towers would still be standing! I'm sorry. I am horrible. It was in bad taste. I take full responsibility for being so stupid. See, even my personality DNA, Part Deux, tells me that I've a high agency, "agency" defined as "how much you believe you determine your own outcomes. High means you believe that you have control over your life. Low means you believe that other factors—such as chance, fate, and powerful others—influence your life."
I have lost myself again,
Lost myself and I am nowhere to be found,
Yeah, I think that I might break,
Lost myself again and I feel unsafe.
Be my friend,Seriously, breathe me. I don't smell bad. Well, maybe my breath.
Hold me, wrap me up
Unfold me.
I am small, I'm needy,
Warm me up,
And breathe me.
Sunday, April 16, 2006
158: My Personality DNA
So, I took a personality test, and at this very moment in time and space, I'm a...
It's telling me that I ain't confident, that I am shy, and that I'm a stereotypical woman! You know what? This gurl ain't happy. I'm going to take the test again, and get back to you. But you can read My Personal DNA Report in the meantime.
Okay, I took the test again. And I agree with this one. I'm a...
And this is what My Personal DNA Report Part 2 says I am. See! I ain't confident and I am shy. But you know what? I'm more stereotypically masculine than before. That's important.
*Sashays away from the computer*
*Looks back*
*Blows a kiss*
It's telling me that I ain't confident, that I am shy, and that I'm a stereotypical woman! You know what? This gurl ain't happy. I'm going to take the test again, and get back to you. But you can read My Personal DNA Report in the meantime.
Okay, I took the test again. And I agree with this one. I'm a...
And this is what My Personal DNA Report Part 2 says I am. See! I ain't confident and I am shy. But you know what? I'm more stereotypically masculine than before. That's important.
*Sashays away from the computer*
*Looks back*
*Blows a kiss*
Saturday, April 15, 2006
157: Meryl Streep and Bob Marley
A few days ago, I was watching GMA as I was getting ready for work, and Diane Sawyer, Charlie Gibson, and company were talking about MyHeritage.com. Then today I see in my friend's Xanga site that she's gone into the site, uploaded her picture, and reported what the site told her she resembled. I've gone and done the same and here's what it reports (the linked names are people I don't know):
Picture #1:
MyHeritage.com tells me I most resemble...
Picture #2:
My Heritage.com tells me I most resemble...
Picture #1:
MyHeritage.com tells me I most resemble...
Meryl Streep 61%Yes, yes, I know. The list reads like a line-up of drag persona I can take on, that is, should I ever do drag on Halloween, at Pride, or at work. But, you have to agree, those are some good iconic figures. And who am I to argue when they tell me I look like Antonio, Yonsama (the Korean actor who flamed the Hallyu boom in Japan), and Nicolas.
Hilary Swank 59%
Antonio Saboto Jr. 58%
Brooke Shields 58%
Madonna 54%
Bae Yong-Joon 54%
Nicolas Tse 54%
Gwyneth Paltrow 53%
Sammi Cheng 53%
Yasmine Bleeth 52%
Picture #2:
My Heritage.com tells me I most resemble...
Bob Marley 68%I think I like how this list reads better. it's a good mix: you have those who are hot (Bob) and those who are not (Ben), you have the talented (Rowling) and the talent-less (Ben), you have the fat one (Moran, I love you!), and yes, yes, yes, you have the messianic figure who ordered the deadly sarin gas attack on the Tokyo's underground (Asahara). Isn't that interesting?
Forest Whitaker 63%
Missy Elliott 60%
J. K. Rowling 54%
Shoko Asahara 53%
Margaret Cho 51%
Janica Kostelic 50%
Wu Yi 50%
Matthew Broderick 50%
Ben Affleck 49%
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
156: I Needs Me a Vacation
Today, I booked my flight for a long overdue vacation to the land of Flamenco, the bulls, the tapas, and el Sol.
Can I tell you how excited I am about this?
Now, the extensive planning shall commence. The budget, a loose itinerary with a plenty of room for deviation (because you know, you don't want to be too anal and plan for every second of the trip), what I need to take with me, etc., I need to figure them all out.
Although... just throwing a couple of T-shirts, a swim trunks, and the Lonely Planet in my bag, having nothing really planned out, and just taking off on a jet plane... that, THAT, appeals to me so much more.
But who cares?! I'm going to SPAIN, people! I'm going to SPAIN!
Can I tell you how excited I am about this?
Now, the extensive planning shall commence. The budget, a loose itinerary with a plenty of room for deviation (because you know, you don't want to be too anal and plan for every second of the trip), what I need to take with me, etc., I need to figure them all out.
Although... just throwing a couple of T-shirts, a swim trunks, and the Lonely Planet in my bag, having nothing really planned out, and just taking off on a jet plane... that, THAT, appeals to me so much more.
But who cares?! I'm going to SPAIN, people! I'm going to SPAIN!
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