For every traveler who has any taste of his own, the only useful guidebook will be the one which he himself has written. - Aldous Huxley

So now that June is almost over, it's time for this blog to shift gears and adopt the role of its intended purpose: a travel/adventure blog. The opportune moment for this transition occurred to me yesterday as I sat on Kathy's futon thumbing through the gifts presented to me by my Mom and my brother. My mom had given me The American Patriot's Bible in the New King James Version that contains entries about the influence that the Bible had on the founding of the United States and the formation of our government. From my brother Eric I received a more practical gift, as befits one of his nature. His was a moleskine guidebook to the city of Boston. This guidebook is unique in the fact that it is virtually empty. There are no critical reviews or suggested tourist spots. Instead all it contains is a map, divided into sixteen grids, with two pages for each grid, and transparent pages to draw your own path to your favorite locations within those grids. Instead of pre-reviewed restaurants, bars, museums, theaters, or parks, there are pages of blank spaces for me to write them down as I find them. As well as the names and information for people I meet, memories I make, lessons I learn. It is more than I guidebook, it's a journal and a record of my new life as it unfolds.

Here are some basic ideas of how I think my notebook should be utilized

Who Knows, Maybe I'll find a hidden treasure of the Revolution lying around somewhere

I found that as I was thumbing through the Bible and the guidebook, I was met with some sensations that had been missing the last couple of weeks. Excitement, belonging, confidence, the firm and unshakable belief that I was going where I was meant to be. The determination and knowledge that I would bring pride to my family and friends and that I can do anything and do it well. I remembered why I was going and suddenly the fact that I had no home and no money waiting for me no longer mattered. I was about to embark on what could possibly be the greatest adventure of my life. I am not going to let it slip by for the mere facts that I don't have support on the other side.  My grandpa used to say that the easiest way to teach someone to swim was to throw them in the deep end of the pool. Boston is my pool and I will learn to swim or drown trying. I once held the philosophy that I wanted to see the world and live every day like it was my last. Sadly I had lost sight of that somewhere, but now I have it back and I mean to make it stay.

I've always been fascinated with the concept of an adventure. I knew deep down that I'd never get an adventure of Tolkien-esque proportions, where I and a small group of friends and allies were all that stood in the path of the world's total destruction or humanity's imprisonment by the forces of darkness, but I knew that there were other sorts of adventures to be had, if I only had the guts and wisdom to recognize the opportunities as they presented themselves. Many writers have left all behind to depart on such adventures with naught but the money in their wallet and a full tank of gas. Though I've not read many of those books, I've heard of them and seen some movies with similar themes, enough to know that I could do the same thing someday. When it came right down to it, though, I was always too quick to settle into a rut, too quick to derive weak excuses to stay put. Now I know that deep down I was just too scared to walk away. I had established a safety net that I clung to, ignoring opportunities to explore and spread my wings in favor of familiar surroundings. After the disaster that was last semester, I realized that it was time to reach for my dreams and stop swimming in the shallow end of the pool. It was time to hold my nose, close my eyes, and jump into the deep end, flailing about until I learned to keep myself afloat. I'll keep you all posted in the meantime and I'll issue a proper farewell before I .... Ramble On!

This Song is about Hobbits