Then I got to thinking that I should stick to the true topic of the blog...which is travel. Should I write a small and informal essay as to what travel means to me? Should I simply jump right into the thick of things and describe all of my past travels? How much is too much information?
There is a birth certificate at a location that I am not entirely sure of that says my name is "Catherine Attaway Kinley". While this is technically correct, I have never truly considered "Catherine" to be my true name, and instead have always gone by "Kate." My earliest memories involve books, which in consideration to where I live isn't particularly surprising, as my father runs a book store from our home. Books have filled my entire life, and I am not at all ashamed to say that I consider many literary characters to be amongst my closest friends. My social life is very nearly non existent, though I do have some close friends whom I treasure and hold to the highest regard. I suspect that if I do actually maintain this blog, you will come to meet them.
Along with books, my early memories involve travel, and most prominent of these memories are my travels to England. Ever since the age of 5 my family and I have made an annual trip to the UK, with only a few sad years in which the journey was impossible. I'm confident that I could talk nostalgically for hours about my love for England, but I know very well that you would soon grow bored and so for your sake dear reader, I shall (attempt) to restrain myself. Know this however, that England fills my dreams and aspirations for my future, and that I can't imagine myself anywhere else but in the rapturous, chaotic streets of London. When I am in England, I feel perfectly at home, and I am happy. Outside of the UK, I have also had the great fortune to travel to the gorgeous and fascinating lands of Canada and Egypt. Ifeel as though at some point while growing up all of these adventures have engrained an incontrovertible wanderlust into my veins, and now I am utterly obsessed with the prospect of exploring and traveling.
I also fancy myself to be a photographer, though I know I have a long way to go before I could be considered truly "good" at it. My interest in photography lies mainly in the conceptual side of things, which is an adventure in of itself as I trample through forests wearing ball gowns, as I dance in the rapturous light of sunsets, as I lay amidst scattered bones in the twilight hours of summer, and as I emerge from frigid water early in the morning when the sky is still blue because the sun still hasn't peeked above the horizon.
To me, travel represents everything that my life at the moment is not. It is exciting, it is new, it is unpredictable, it is beautiful, it is ugly, it is magic.
This blog begins on Saturday 15, December 2012. In six days, I'll be going to the northwest coast of Wales, where I'll be staying for five days, and then on Boxing day my family and I will pile into our rented car and drive like mad men back to glorious London, where we will stay for another four or five days. I can hardly breathe with excitement and anticipation, and the thoughts of England consume me so that I can think of little else. For now however I sit in my living room with my family in a frail attempt to relax, wait. Thank you, reader, if you have in fact read this entire blog post...and welcome to the tales of my little journeys.
Me over the sumer at Starved Rock, Illinois
I said I liked conceptual photography didn't I? This is one of my pictures.
These are the two girls who have always remained by my side
Last Christmas my family and I went to New York City and we saw Wicked. After we left the theatre we stood by the side of the road for several minutes in a frail and hopeless attempt to catch a taxi.
A conceptual piece I did a few months ago. I suppose that in all honesty there is very little "concept" occurring, but I still felt as though I should share it