I'm whistling. There isn't a good onomatopoeia for it, so heretofore my 'bird whistle' will be indicated by [whistle]. I really need to escape right now, maybe I'll just get in my car friday afternoon and drive in some direction. My urge to leave everything is really strong. It's like there's a constant tug from somewhere pulling to who-know's-where-but-it-definitely-ain't-here. I really want to see stars. Iowa had stars. I miss them. I don't want to be a lawyer, journalist, academic, professor, business man, consultant, student, writer, and definitely not an employee of Abso Bookstores. I want to go to a place no one else does and do things that no one else does. I want to be on a trawler in the north atlantic. I want to hike in Denali. I want to fish the 42nd parallel. I want to explore old crash sites. I want to surf the gold coast. I want to worship cows in India. Whatever. It's obvious I don't want these things are I would actively change my status quo.