Two years ago, I was tired of my decade-long job. I was tired of horrible bosses and corporate bullshit. I was tired of spreadsheets and whiteboards and cubicles. And, I can probably admit this now, I felt I was also tired of teaching.
I just wanted to buy the next ticket out and go. Anywhere. It didn’t really matter. Anywhere but here.
I needed to walk aimlessly along alien streets and shady alleyways, shoulders and back sore from carrying an overstuffed backpack.
I needed to see life from dead temples, and love from spoils of war. Then climb a steep pagoda and watch the sunset, taking photos of people taking photos.
I needed to smell the ocean, or the dingy corners of an old war museum. And then be claustrophobic while exploring war tunnels and secret passageways.
I needed to offend my senses with overly-colorful plates, pungent aroma, and tongue-numbing spices of streetfood with questionable sanitary standards.
Two years ago, I was lost, yet I felt the need to be lost.
Because only in being lost will I be able to find myself again.
In this throwback photo, I challenged myself to change my perspective to see open doors. But I never imagined that that door was just right around the corner, and my life was about to change forever.