There is a trend for most people in my life, when they hit the age that I am, to take certain steps. Please, indulge me for a minute of two reader, while I ponder this.

I have a spattering of good friends. A few who have gotten married, one settling into the idea to the point where he may as well be. Everywhere I look I feel as though the people around me are doing things right, and I’m doing things wrong.

Here I am, off on another solo venture out of the country to see brand new places and meet brand new people. Why should I feel… lost?

I’ve been recognizing more and more lately that I still have a broken heart. Not a heart on the mend, or a heart that needs time to heal, but a heart that doesn’t work right. I keep trying to fill it with fun and friends and being open and vulnerable, but that doesn’t seem to be working. I don’t think this is the kind of broke that finding someone to fill in the gaps will fix. I think this is the kind of broke that needs a little life-redirection. A quick turn at the next stop light and I might be on the right track again.

This is new for me. But I’m figuring it out.

I am excited for my friends. Scratch that, I am scared for my friends. They have such big adventures before them; buying their first house, buying a car, planning to have children, supporting each other through everything, thick or thin.

Jumping on a plane and going to Europe, meeting hundreds of strangers and getting physically lost in a new city, that excites me. It’s the other stuff I’m afraid of. And I don’t understand how they, my friends, my family, can settle in despite or because of that fear. They face the challenge of being part of a whole and accept it. Embrace it.

I’m jumping on a plane to go to Germany for the first time tomorrow, and I feel that chaotic rush that comes from flying off by the seat of your pants. I am starting to feel the adrenaline of not knowing what will come, the ache of homesickness, the desire to walk a different world. I am starting to feel.

I hope to come back a bigger person. I hope to come back more developed and more whole. That’s how I can justify these adventures. If I am fueling a dream, a dream to become better and more focused and more driven, then I am accomplishing my duty as a writer, and as a creator and as an artist. And maybe one day, as a half-part. In the back of my mind, I can’t help but wonder if I should already be that person, and what the heck is holding me back.

For those of you reading this who prefer my fiction works and are getting tired of my thoughts, you’re in luck. Something is one the way. I am hoping to find some time to write while on the plane. I read once that Neil Gaiman found time to write on trains. I’ll take a pen and a small moleskin with me, and maybe I’ll come back with a new world if not as a new person.

As always, Reader, thanks for stopping in. Thanks for plugging on.