Once I could, I traveled fanatically and obsessively. I traveled all the time. I never wrote about those days as much as I imagined I would, despite minor blogging celebrity status in those days. I’m not sure why. I didn’t feel ready. I didn’t feel like I knew a lot. I was 18, and I didn’t know a thing at all. Maybe I still don’t, but with the passage of time I feel better equipped to tell those stories without only the romance.
My therapist says everyone is struggling with not being able to plan ahead for anything, right now. When your planning needs to involve multiple people, passports and locations, it looks a little bit like this.
I turn 35 tonight. When I was a younger queer kid I used to wonder, "what will life be like at 35?" Somehow, that age became the barometer for how happy I might be as a queer person in a place and time that was not friendly to any of that. So, what is it like?
I recently picked up my film camera again. I forgot how to rewind my film and accidentally leaked light all over the roll. I like the 'spoiled' look, however. In the roll, I have photos from Singapore and San Francisco, both of my homes.
Last night, I started posting snippets of the things I have done, the places I have been, the places I have gone. Where they might have felt jumbled up and messy on a blog or Facebook post, the Twitter thread / tweetstorm format seemed to be a natural home for my adventures. Because that's what it felt like: a series of jumping through time and space, zooming through many different challenges, having many opportunities. Today, I am grateful for the mess that my early adulthood sometimes felt like.