Some recent Facebook stalking has left me feeling rather restless. I'm being inundated by photos of friends backpacking through Europe, bumming around Colorado ski towns and leading bike tours in Paris.

It’s not that my life isn’t glamorous, it just begs for a better backdrop. Thoughts would just be deeper somehow if they were put to paper in a leather-bound journal on my lap and I could pause to stare out at the Amalfi Coast. Glancing up over the top of my MacBook into the glow of other Apple icons at the local coffee shop isn't particularly scenic.

I’ve been having stirrings lately to take off on a long personal quest of self-discovery. I could do peyote, carve a dwelling into a giant Redwood tree or maybe learn to surf in some sleepy West Coast town. Maybe I could finally turn my childhood dreams of being a seasonal salt water fisherman into reality, or do like my dad and crew myself out for the summer on a yacht in the Mediterranean. Learning to sail — that’s on the list.

In my most elaborate vision I’d keep a journal of this extended PTO full of insights and quotables you couldn’t get unless you’d had the same kind of world-view-altering life experience. I’d adapt it into a best-selling memoir that would later be made into a feature film starring Julia Roberts.

Only the diary of my transformative journey would more likely be titled Eat Eat Eat. (If I covered the kind if ground I aspire to, I can only imagine the array of foreign delicacies I’d sample.)

Once I returned and reclaimed my stuff (it would’ve been left in my mom’s garage) I could conceive a new genre chronicling what exactly happens once you settle back into the day-to-day. This reparative sequel to Eat Eat Eat would, of course, be titled Tan Tan Tan, as I doubt Javier Bardem would factor into my readjustment.

Then again, we're in a recession. I've already got some material, and I'd be willing to kick the antics up a notch for the sake of entertainment. I've even got some stories up my sleeve that have yet to be told because of my self-imposed statute of limitations on obvious references. (You've got to wait a while before "that wasn't about you" becomes feasible).

I don't have a lot of sway in Hollywood (yet) and I could foresee some difficulties securing the financing to film on location everywhere from Rio to Tibet. And even if it's not the most picturesque of places, Houston's got a lot going on. So, I suppose we could keep it local — that's all the rage these days anyway, I hear.

And it's cheap. So to the studio execs who I know read me religiously — consider this my official pitch.