This is going to be a tedious list. I'll limit the list to things I can do without much money, because honestly given any more than a few hundred dollars the po

This is going to be a tedious list. I'll limit the list to things I can do without much money, because honestly given any more than a few hundred dollars the possibilities are endless. (They're endless anyway, really.) Explore the suburbs with friends, look for parks and lakes, play frisbee at said parks, play tennis with friends, get really dizzy on the spinny things at said parks, eat at Applebee's, start conversations with Applebee's staff, organize a group pelvic thrusting session throughout Applebee's parking lot, organize late-night group exploration of Lowe's, walk through back alleys looking for interesting things, make Mario hats out of paper, buy people flowers, go to foreign restaurants and delis, stay up late at night sitting in hammocks, see bands performing, take road trips, attend music festivals and marathons and barbecues, paint, play arcade games, mess around with old consoles/computers, play tabletop games, romp through woodlands, play with pets, work out, explore houses, look for critters in woodlands/houses, wander streets at midnight, go to karaoke bars, rent movies from tiny stores, make music, go to the boardwalk, visit aquariums, watch sunsets, set off fireworks, go to cities and look for interesting people, spend excessive amounts of money on dollar menus at fast food places, walk on beaches, collect and polish rocks, build models, read up on ancient cultures, play pool, learn martial arts, play board games, sit and hold hands with people... That's approx. 45 things that I culled from the photos I've taken in the last month alone. Obviously it's not the whole of what the last month of my life has been, nor are they the only things you can do without anything at all. The reason I had to resort to my own photo collection is that given the whole of possibility regarding just my small, few-thousand-people suburb and the several surrounding locations my mind goes nearly blank. I spent years of my childhood exploring just one of the 3-5 parks within walking distance of my house, and I can say with authority that within that park lies a series of tall-grass areas called "mazes" that hunters go on, a pavilion complete with barbecue equipment and charcoal, series of forested areas that merge with rivers and which are ripe for building things in, two lakes - one hidden from view - a waterfall leading to a lengthy river hike with quite a few natural pools, an old abandoned chapel, a dance hall, a baseball diamond, a mountain overlook, and the entrance to a statewide hike that I've never entirely walked along. And this isn't a huge park, either: I'd say it's a few acres at most. Within several miles of that park are multiple parks that are much bigger that I've never had much of a chance to explore. On the secluded cul-de-sac where I live there're a good 20 people, including children ranging from infancy to college age; there's a former FBI agent whose hobby is landscaping the house in which he lives; there's a devoutly religious father who travels to foreign countries to help improve lives; there are two families about whom I know nothing whatsoever, who I would get to know better if it weren't for the fact that there are a million other things I want to do first. Every time I go to New York City, I'm staggered by the knowledge that I could spend months on a single block of the city and not run out of doors to enter, people to meet. That's not even mentioning the Internet, which I'm rather a fan of and which has millions of communities I'd love to discover. Here we occasionally see articles on how to clamp down on noise, people complaining about reading 200-300 RSS feeds at a time. I read 13 RSS feeds because I've learned that it's impossible to read everything that appears online. Even with those 13, I'm used to spending hours and hours every day exploring new things, talking to people, getting involved in discussions. Trolling fights with lawyers from Taiwan. Arguments like this, where I feel the need to write stuff to people I've never met but still know the names/handles of. People like you. Tomorrow the plan's to do yoga with some friends, perhaps design a web site or two, possibly go hiking, listen to an album by the Kinks that I haven't heard yet, possibly head over to the library and pick out books at random, see if any of them are worth anything. Chances are much more than that will happen, but I'm not going out of my way to plan things at 4AM. Things will happen. That's all I need to know. If money was no object, I'd go tour the building of every company I'm infatuated with, then I'd visit all the big cities, drive across country, go to airports and bus stations and taxicabs, meeting people everywhere. I can't even begin to think of what I'd do beyond the United States. I want to see everything. I want to visit small folk villages in Mexico and hitchhike across Europe and maybe learn some languages... But that's beyond my immediate scope, because I know that within a dozen miles of where I'm sitting now, there's a place where I can learn to swing dance and ballroom dance and jazz dance and ballet, and there are jazz clubs and garage spots for screamo bands, music stores where people could tell me how to play any instrument I can get my hands on (music stores that have HARPS in them. Isn't that awesome?), pool halls and barbershops and supermarkets and florists and lots of things I've probably never even thought to think of. I could spend my life in this miniature suburb and never run out of things to do. A barber who's an old friend of my mother's and an old middle school music teacher who plays the flute both spent their lives in this town. I don't think I want to do that, but I know that's always an available option. And jeez, I haven't begun to talk about the various options available given a gorgeous girl and a full gas tank and a picnic blanket, and that's probably another few lifetimes worth of things to try out. Haven't you ever felt these moments, where you think about everything in existence and feel, like, holy SHIT, there are six billion people in the world and if I wanted to I could meet any one of them? I'm having that feeling right now. Like, I'm writing this to you, and I don't even know you, and you don't know me, but each of us is living a completely different life and we think completely different things, and if I were to meet you we wouldn't know anybody in common or any of the same places and we'd each be talking to a person with a lifetime's worth of fascinating things to explore. That is so cool I can't quite imagine it. I'm sorry if this was an excessive response to your inquiry, but I think it's silly to say there are only 30-40 things to do. I can think of 30-40 fun things to do without getting up from this couch alone, though I'd rather you not ask me to list all those things.