The things that I want out of life are not comprised of momentous accomplishments but instead of many beautiful moments. I have dreams, and hopes and fantasies. I want to see the world. I want to be in constant culture shock. I want to travel Europe on bike, stay in old castles made into inns, and camp when my legs are too sore to get there. I want to sit on the edge of a high cliff over the ocean at dusk and watch the sun set, and breath in deep and feel the wind get colder and colder as it whips my hair around. I want to sing J-pop at the top of my lungs in a karaoke bar in Tokyo. I want to play for change on some small street corner in Scotland, and have deep conversations with total strangers over tea. I want to start a novel in Oregon and finish it in India or Hong Kong. I want to take a rode trip to Vermont. I want to hike in upstate New York. I want to lay in a field with the sun on my face for hours. I want to write songs sitting outside a little café in Italy or Amsterdam. I want to fall asleep in my lover’s arms while we lay in a tent on some deserted beach. I want to come home after 2 years of traveling and watch football at Ashley’s pub and eat chicken wings. There are so many more things that I want to do, not all of them related to travel. I want to write a play. I want to study psychology (though I have this strange suspicion that I’ll grow to hate it.) I want to dance barefoot on the wet grass at the Thomas center at midnight. I want to marry the man I love, but never quite settle down. I want to share these beautiful moments with him forever.