My Own Island

I have this deep rooted desire to run. No, not like a marathon, I already did that bullshit. But, like the run away. Run away from things, run away from people, run away from my life. It’s weird, I know this. I have a fantastic life. It’s still there, always.

This being said, I was offered an opportunity to live on my very own private island and run the resort there. Jason and I would be the caretakers on a tiny island off the coast of Honduras. Needless to say, my bags were packed. Fuck yeah! I was ready to go.

Fort Morgan Cay

Fort Morgan Cay

Jason, on the other hand was full of questions: How much money would we make? Would we pay taxes? Is there health care? Where is the hospital? Where would I buy PB Blaster? On and on until finally he said no way was he moving to an island because in two years I’d be ready to do something else.

This may or may not be a fact. Ok, it is a fact. I’d get bored and be ready to move on, but, MY OWN PRIVATE ISLAND! Needles to say, I’m pretty bummed. I’m always up for a good adventure and living by the seat of my pants(which I prefer a bikini bottom to pants).

So instead of this I have decided that every month I am going somewhere new. I went to Colorado this month. I am going to Tennessee next month. I am putting Hawaii and the Galapagos on my list for next year and I may or may not be going to Cabo for a photoshoot if I can stop eating all the leftover stuffing from Thanksgiving.

I want to see and do it all. No, I have to see and do it all.

Where do you want to go?

Artist, dreamer, lover of life. Former gym owner redefining me.