When I want you I'll follow you.

The need to write, versus the desire to write, doesn't strike me as often as I would like. Tonight it came to me like lightening out of a clear sky. From almost sleep I was bolted awake by the need to put these thoughts to paper... or limitless cyber space (the first seems much more nostalgic and romantic).

Earlier today, in a snow soaked afternoon, I was sharing with my mum that I am not a risk taker. Oh sure, I have travelled, skied 'extreme' terrain, moved all over the world but these have been very calculated. I am quite certain of the outcome, at least to some extent before I agree to undertake the task at hand. When it comes to risk that I can't predict the outcome of I am less inclined to jump in. The exception to this rule was in Greece this summer. When I bolted up right to put fingers to keys my Facebook page was open. On my feed was a photo that one of my friends had 'liked'.  In this photo I was being helped from a pool atop a stunning hill over looking the ocean. One hand reaching up for that of the person helping me out and the other diligently clutching my dress to my breasts hoping that not too much of my undergarments and flesh were exposed to the wedding party and guests. This photo put into stark contrast the life I often live with the one I sometimes do. My weeks in Greece this summer were full of doing things that were risky. Things that by any standard of common sense shouldn't have ended up working out in any way. By any stretch of the imagination I could have been very sick, robbed or worse, and embarrassed my best friend in the world. In those moments, mind you many at the end of very long days in the Greek sun with a few beers, I was free from consequence and I acted based on what felt exciting, what gave me a rush, what I knew if I didn't do it there, in that moment, I would never have the chance to do again. THIS. This is how I will live my life.

oh yeah... this has been stuck in my head all day.