You know all those tiny little moments that happen in life? Like when you trip on a busy sidewalk, spill your coffee on a stranger, and are left trying to fake laugh as you lift your bloody palms off the pavement and run away as fast as possible? If only you had been walking with a friend, they could have laughed at you and taken a video for youtube. Then later, once your wounds had healed, your video would go viral and Ellen Degeneres would ask you to be on her show. But alas, you were walking alone and you ran away bloody and sad. Shame.

Life only has so many big moments, but I have come to realize that it’s the accumulation of all the small things that make up our existence as we see it day to day. After a few years of traveling solo, I started Adventures of a Professional Vagabond for all the transition times where I found myself without even a good mirror to talk to. It is for all the stories that needed to be told. For all the tiny moments that I wouldn’t remember. For all the little thoughts that may or may not have big meaning. For all the stupid jokes that needed to be awkwardly laughed at (and I promise you, I make a lot of stupid jokes. And you will feel awkward). But now the purpose of this blog is changing…

This started as a travel blog. But the idea of being a vagabond isn’t just about the places that I go, it’s about why I go there in the first place, it’s about why I move. I don’t just mean that in the literal sense; I’m talking about the constant process of growth and exploration that is, quite simply, being alive. For this reason,  I recently changed Adventures of a Professional Vagabond to Adventures of a Professional Dabbler. The real meaning in this blog is less about travel, and more about trying. 

I suppose at the root of it all I am simply someone who is never satisfied. I always want to see more, do more, learn more, be better. In my quest to see/do/conquer everything that is or could potentially be awesome in this world, I have had some pretty incredible adventures. From black water caving in Waitomo, snowboarding in Hokkaido, being robbed at gunpoint in Ecuador, playing my music live on the radio in New Zealand (I hope someday I can listen and laugh, for now it still gives me an allergic reaction), and all the adventures and non adventures in between, I have already racked up a lifetime’s supply of “stories to tell the grandkids.”

But I’m young, and I don’t have any grandkids. And by the time I do they will probably be robots. And robots and computers will be at war so they won’t read my blog (it could happen). So this is for the real people. The non robots. For anyone who can’t help but look at life through an analytical lens, and is happy to fall over laughing or crying with whatever they see. For those who will never stop getting back up to try again anew.

Mt Cook, New Zealand

Mt Cook, New Zealand

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