But I suppose that's how most writers are, isn't it (wow, I'm actually considering myself a writer)? They are cooped up at home, or in some coffeeshop, while they write, and write, and write. Now I've not actually been paid for any writing that I've done, but I still like to think myself as a writer. Hey, I do have a byline to my name and a story or two! I did come up with a story idea, but have yet to begin writing it. Perhaps now would be the best time to begin.
I've also been reading. Not a lot, since I rarely have time to read these days, but I've picked up a book from the Melbourne City Library, titled 'Do Travel Writers Go To Hell?', about this guy who quit his Wall Street job and took on a casual job as a Lonely Planet guidebook author.
His book is a memoir of his experiences there, when he had shared an apartment with a prostitute, when he justified attending parties as research on nightlife even though he was completely worn out, and most shockingly, how he sold drugs in order to sustain himself when he ran out of money.
These experiences made me think of my own travelling dream. I thought about whether or not I would be able to live as precariously as he did, or whether I would be able to tolerate living in a hostel whose walls are paper thin (literally) and apartments whose landlords secretly inspect your belongings. I wonder if I would be able to put up with these hardships, if I were to ever be able to travel the world.
I guess that's the perfect reason why I should go travelling while I'm young, because that's when you can put up with a whole lot of crap and still have a good time.
Places like these, are the reason why I would want to travel. That, and because I want to 'see the world'.
Let's hope that one day, it will become a reality, eh?