I was born in the shadow of the Italian alps (Venetian prealps to be more specific) today, thirty two years ago to an American soldier and his South Korean bride. I often tell people that I like to travel, but it has recently occurred to me that it’s only partially true. I need to travel. It’s in my blood. It’s part of my story. I haven’t found home yet.
There’s another blog post here about how this is the Christian’s struggle–wandering in a foreign land, hoping for the day he’ll be able to find/return home, but that isn’t this post. This isn’t that deep. Just ramblings and incomplete thoughts I’m afraid. It’s my birthday post so I’m entitled to ramble.
I’ve had a few people ask me recently what I like to do for fun; what I like to do in my down time. I’ve struggle to answer that. I don’t know. I haven’t known for a long time. A few days ago it finally came to me. Nothing.
I don’t do anything for fun. Life is fun; that’s what I do for fun; live. Okay, so maybe this is going to get pretty deep. I’ve learned that what you have isn’t as important as who you are. What we have can be lost; we will all experience loss. It’s painful. Yet, eventually, there is joy again. Not because we’ve replaced what was lost, but because we learn that our joy isn’t ultimately tied to the things that can be lost; there’s something more substantial yet less tangible…
This is the kind of stuff I have to deal with in my head. Simple questions, not so simple answers. I enjoy long walks on the beach. That’s what I like to do for fun. 🙂 I love the idea of camping, but 2011 pretty much ruined tents for me. I like to travel.
Anyway, I’m optimistic about 2014. 2013 was such an odd year (pun intended. I
like love puns).