Travelling is thought by many to be the epitome of freedom. Every day a new day, a new place, a new face, maybe even a new lover. But like so many things, it’s not that simple. Like addiction, a once free choice can take us to places darker and more tyrannical than we have ever known.

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One of the things I love about this blog is seeing other people ponder the same dilemmas as I’m having, as a twentysomething confused …

I do not celebrate my birthday. It has been a source of annual frustration in my life.

The issue comes from my twenty-something need to experience the world and my human need not to be uncomfortable.

A job faux-pas leads me to suspect I’m not that funny.

She looked like chocolate tastes and stared like Whiskey feels. I could have stood there for hours. No conception of time, locked on her eyes, sparkling blue like jagged cut sapphires under a light. She asked, with her East European accent, “would you like to have a drink?”

A discussion of California’s failed Proposition 19 and what it means for groovy people like you.

As a baby of the choice generation, I’ve never considered the consequences of my choices on anyone other than myself. Membership in the choice generation assures that kind of self reference. After all, our generation seeks choice the way Baby Boomers sought wealth. We want to appropriate it and own it. Ownership accompanies possession. Possession implies a private relationship of closed interaction. We view our choices only as they pertain to us and only as they effect and consequence our lives.