I like the idea of living as if i all of sudden have all the free time in the world. trying things i’ve never tried. developing new hobbies. maybe even golfing.
dreaming about the house i'd have, how many meals per day i'd eat outside, spending the holidays in a different part every year, the clothes i'd buy, but mainly about all the free time i'd have. These fantasies keep me going, the working man's fuel!
so freeing to know that no one is coming after you since you live in an apartment alone.
sometimes responsibilities are just silly things we make up for ourselves to feel important.
also so fun to consider “what if i never came back” and end up on a fun island somewhere
if money were no object i would immediately hole up in an upscale hotel that allows residency or a weird airbnb and voraciously take in art and frantically create, intermittently leaving to wander aimlessly until i have mapped out haunts for myself. repeat for however long i feel, at times solo, at other times surrounded by friends and confidants
i just want to appreciate the intuitive people out there that pick accurate names for people/animals/things. its a true talent so satisfying. shoutout to the guy i met the other day who named his dog banana bc she truly was a banana 🥲🫶🏾
I love hand-writing a letter. the delayed gratification of it, talking about anything and nothing, decorating it with cartoons and drawings and stickers. Sending little extras and photographs with tiny micro-playlists scrawled out on the back of it. It takes at least an hour to craft a good letter, one worth receiving and replying to, and it's intimate to think about someone nonstop for that long. I just love that form of communication.