Thoughts on Tracks

Traveling is infectious.
I'm on a 13 hour night train to Paris right now. Ive never been on a train this long. I'm traveling alone like the paid journalists do on the Travel Channel. I wanna be that hobo-ish person who roams from city to country, sleeping in train stations, and waking up to a stale piece of bread with no butter who has climbed trees in the Amazon. I wish I could disappear to the Greek Isles like I used to run away from home when I was eight. Life seemed so much easier then. All there was to worry about was how much lemonade to use for my sister and I's entrepreneurial initiative. We had an innocent lemonade stand on Jeffery's Bay. Ohhhhh the days of Polly Pocket and getting inside the dryer for clubhouse. Never predicting death, serious injury or overheating, my sister and I used to tuck ourselves in the dryer and take turns spinning each other. Where have those days evolved to?

Now, I'm a senior in college with one more semester to spare until I'm thrown into this recession with a passion for a field with diluting significance. Over the next few months, I have have a lot of responsibility to face. I'm scared and uncertain. College went by too fast. I still don't even know who I am yet. Sometimes when I discover a new part of me, I accuse myself of mockery. Who gave me this? Oprah once said "growing older is about becoming more of yourself." I'm hanging on to this.

Life gave me lemons last year, so I packed my bags to go live in my dream city. New York City has been a part of my REM sleep cycle since the beginning of time. I knew I was going to end up there Some Day, Some How. And I'll never forget this clue the universe sent me in Summer 2005. We took a family trip to Manhattan to finally meet my dream city in person. We stayed in Battery Park at the most southern tip of the island (also vaguely referred to as "Downtown"). Justin dragged me along to this unspectacular Abercrombie and Fitch chain he was dying to see. Like a South Street Seaport tourist, I snapped a picture of this stupid store with a (now cryptic) disposable camera. In fact, I took a lot of pictures on that trip.

Life progressed. Three years went by.

NYC became a distant daydream by the time I graduated from high school in 2006. NYU wasn't on my list of aspirations either. But one extraordinarily random day, I decided to visit the NYU Web Site with no hidden inclination to transfer universities. Once my imagination started to do all that uncontrollable psychological stuff, the very thought of attending NYU had me twinkle-eyed. I decided to apply with low expectations of being accepted.
Joy happened here.Once I was accepted, the department of housing gave me three dormitory choices. Water St. was my last choice; and that's exactly where I was placed. As I was checking out online pictures of my forced living accommodation, I noticed the gray facade of that Abercrombie and Fitch building on the home page of the housing Web Site. I immediately remembered that same picture I took three years ago. Turns out that retail store was located directly across the street from my dormitory. I shared a one-bedroom apartment in a 32-story high rise with a breathtaking view of the Brooklyn Bridge, Seaport, and 199 Water Street (A & F store). I kept my blinds open every single day. And whoever said dreaming is for kids obviously hasn't been snorting the right fairy dust. That's where I found the beginning of my destiny -- on 200 Water St.

Now my life has taken me on a 16-hour journey to Marseille, France. It's the closest I can get to the Mediterranean right now. I'm saving Rome and Athens for when I get a job. I'm going to be Couch Surfing while I'm there. I hope my host isn't a lunatic or a lesbian. Dad told me to watch out for homosexuals when I'm making dangerous decisions. I hope she doesn't "pull me into the closet."
More stories to come.