This picture is how I feel about life in general right now.

FUCK EVERYTHING AND BECOME A PIRATE.

That was on the back of a menu at a fabulous bar/restaurant in Bondi in Australia and I for the life of me cannot remember the name of the bar/restaurant but I also took the other photo below there too because 1) the served Sailor Jerry Rum 2) who doesn’t like tequila when they’re getting their festive on and 3) it says Merry Fuckin Christmas.

The only way that message would have been topped was if it had said: Merry Fuckin Christmas Y’all.

I had the wonderful pleasure of spending 3 very short and glorious weeks in Australia with two of my greatest partners in shenanigans, Heather and Suzanne. We toured up the coast from Sydney to Brisbane and back to our “home base” in Bondi.

To say I fell in love with Australia is a gross understatement. I was in love with Australia before I got there. No particular reason, no postcard inspiration, no one there to make me want to go. I just knew I had to go. I knew in my gut and in my heart of hearts I HAD TO GO. I have known I had to go there since I was eighteen or so, but some dreams seem like they are just that…a dream.

A year after my mom passed away, I decided to say fuck it, and just go. With or without friends. Without a real plan other than how to get there, where I was initially staying when I got there, where I would finally stay before I left, and that my mode of travel would be renting a camper van. As a planning type person, the idea to say fuck it and throw caution to the wind is a bit scary and nerve racking, but I did.

I said FUCK IT!

And what a glorious decision that was.

The moment I stepped onto solid ground in Australia, I knew I wanted it to be my home. Not my home away from home, but my permanent home. It’s hard to describe what that feeling feels like to those who 1) are not dreamers 2) believers in the Universe and 3) who are just too close-minded to know that the soul knows what is right for it. My soul immediately felt at home and at rest.

I came back to the US with a mission: get my ass back to Australia ASAP.

Almost three years later, I’m no closer to living in Australia than I am being a millionaire. I could shovel excuse after excuse over my shoulder and though all those excuses are true, they are still EXCUSES.

Yes, life threw some major monkey wrenches in my life plans and I sadly admit I let those monkey wrenches stop me from believing and knowing that I could do whatever I wanted. I let those monkey wrenches tell me I wasn’t good enough or worthy enough or that I couldn’t do it.

I had essentially let the brick walls stop me. I let the brick walls keep me away from achieving my dream, my destiny, my target.

Then an epiphany, an a-ha moment, a eureka moment, a I can’t take anymore crap from life moment, whatever you want to call it happened and kicked me in my imaginary balls and said, screamed really, “What the hell are your doing? Get your shit together and make it happen.” And just like that, brick by brick the walls are tumbling down. It’s a slow process, but one I have to do no matter how long or short it takes. It’s also a process that will alienate maybe even eliminate people from my life but as the target comes closer and closer in sight and the dream almost a reality the alienated and eliminated, though they will be missed, don’t have to understand or appreciate my journey. It’s not for them. It is my journey and my journey alone.

So yeah, I’m gonna do it and say fuck everything and become a pirate.