How is it always 3 am? WHY AM I LIKE THIS?

I’ve reignited the dumpster fire, so protect your baby retinas out there. You’ll need some sunglasses for this spectacle and we’ll say its because my future is so bright.

While I’m tired of being a mess, I’ve decided to take this circus on the road. For a very long time, I have been pining for a grand adventure.

Today, while moving loaders and forklifts at the industrial yard I grew up on, I realized my life has been a grand adventure. Born and raised in Alaska, I grew up in the industrial district of Anchorage. I knew how to ride a motorcycle before I learned how to drive a car (which, in hindsight, was at way too young of an age). Gave college a shot. Moved to Australia. Moved to Illinois. Traveled to the same damn cities over and over again during my fledging modeling career. And now I’m here: in the basement of my parents’ home… again. Shit. I mean, I could go into more detail, but its boring. And I’m bored. Which is why I’m leaving… again.

I’m worn of shattering my own heart, trying to clean up the pieces, and only splintering my hands. Fear has been in the captain’s chair for a while now and I’m ready to take over.

My agent wants me to turn this into a travel blog, but she doesn’t read it, so she won’t see this, and here’s my answer: No. This isn’t a travel blog; this is MY blog. If people want to read about luxurious travel destinations and all the bullshit that doesn’t happen for us plebeians, then they can go read Conde Nast or whatever that magazine is that gathers dust in doctors’ offices.

I will, however, be writing about whatever the hell I want to write about in the form of personal essays and yeah, maybe a legitimate blog post here and there.

I’m leaving again. This time in a big way. This time in a way that says I’m not coming back here. Not in the same way. Not in a small way. Feel me when I say this. I’m about to shake this world.

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