This is about 40 by 40


Last night over dinner, a friend introduced me to the concept of “40 by 40,” which is going to 40 different countries by the time you’re 40. Maybe it’s naivety or ignorance, or most likely the fact that I’d been broke for most of my adult life so the notion of traveling for leisure was a laughable pipe dream, but I’d never heard of it and honestly? MY LIFE IS EFFECTIVELY RUINED because I will not rest until I achieve this new goal. Instead of saving up money for retirement, or a house, or marriage/children/family, or investing (hahahahaahah… sob), everything I do from here until 40 is going towards this. For all you math nerds out there, that means 5 countries each year for the next 4 years. Is that doable? Certainly. Is it wise? HARD NO, BUD.

It’s not like I have any huge responsibilities that are keeping me in Toronto on a full-time basis. I don’t pay rent because I live with my wonderfully supportive parents, I’m single as FUT with no prospects on the horizon, and unless some dude knocks on my door serving me with a maternity test saying that Junior the movie staring ol’ Arnie Schwarzenegger, Danny DeVito & Emma Thompson is a real thing now and I AM the mother, Maury-style, I’m free as a bird. Furthermore, if for some reason you were in love with me and planning on doing something about it, but this last paragraph has really made you rethink your position: whoops. My bad. Looks like I’ll be single a little while longer.

There’s truly no better time to try and make this happen. Also I fully believe that the world as we know it will cease to exist in less than 20 years, and the idea of “world travel” is one of the first luxuries the New World Order will get rid of. I don’t think a mass extinction of humanity will happen (however deserved it is), but the frivolities of travel for the sake of wanting to have “authentic” soba noodles in Japan will no longer be a socially accepted way to dump carbon emissions into our burning world. So to that I say: THE TIME IS NOW!

When I left for Asia last year, I thought I was going on a 2 month adventure to shake up my stagnant life. Surely 2 months away was enough to refill the joy and creativity tank that I let dry up. And it was. For a time. Then that tank, or whatever the hell it is inside me, became insatiable. The need for new experiences, with no judgement on whether or not it’s “better” or “worse” than present circumstances, just keeps growing. The worst part about traveling (other than, you know, the possibility of getting sick/stranded/sold into human trafficking) is that once you start, you can’t stop. It’s like cocaine except more expensive and less fentanyl.

Or maybe I’m using travel as an excuse to delay growing the fuck up.

Unicorn Cafe, Bangkok, Thailand

WHO’S TO SAY?!!!?!?

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