As you may have noticed, I’m all about the thrill of a frivolous trip to a city I’ve never set foot in when I can barely afford it. See: Chicago.
And so now I find myself in Boston.
Well, technically in a bus on the way to grand old New York City. So I guess I am just proving my tendencies to purchase tickets to unknown cities on a whim even more.
But I swear it’s not out of a need for escapism, believe me I can handle that on my own. All I need is a Harry Potter novel or a picture of a very cute member of a favorite band (*ahem* Ezra Koenig *ahem*) and I’m off in a world where I can fly above buildings and Ezra comes home from the studio to bring me tulips and compliment me on my cooking skills. In the same capacity. Oh, hells yes. A girl can dream, right?
But that’s another story. One that I might have too much shame to tell.
But I don’t exactly know why I find myself on this trip to New York and Boston, or even why I’m writing this post in general. I just felt like the last few, odd months have been the preface to this moment, and I feel like I’m finally arriving at that point where the protagonist feels like a bona-fide champ at life or has just kicked the $h!t out of some evil demon-henchmen from the fourth dimension.
I mean, what?
But that’s exactly how I feel. Or to use possibly the most disgusting analogy ever, the morning after you eat a hearty burrito at Chipotle, and uh, yeah.
Yeah, I went there. I’m sorry to whatever of the four followers I still have on this blog that just un-followed me on Google Reader. I’ll be missing you.
But I just really feel like a champ. Like I just pulled a Rocky and ran across Philadelphia and had a platoon of followers smacking my backside and giving me high-fives on being so bad@$$. Because even after having possibly the weirdest 8 months of my life occur, I feel like I’ve made my way through it without becoming a total wash-out. In the last 8 months I’ve gotten a Harry Potter tattoo, ran a half-marathon, withdrew from a school I was extremely unhappy at, went to Chicago, left Chicago (for a tossed salad of reasons), performed in a musical, performed in a play, met the bassist of Vampire Weekend, and got a job as a carnie (technically I work at the carnival games at Universal Studios, but carnie just sounds all the more exotic! Holla @ me, future employers!) and now I find myself on a three-hour bus ride to New York City.
And I just feel like I am doing exactly what I want to do. And I have absolutely no idea what the rest of my 19th year will hold for me, or even what my upcoming 20th will have but that’s apart of the beauty of it. The time I’ve spent in Boston has already exceeded my expectations, from an MIT frat party, to eating at the top of the Prudential building, to yelling “Welcome to Facebook” in the middle of Harvard Yard. I’m just the definition of “smug contentment”.
There’s this moment in one of my favorite movies, “Roman Holiday”, a moment that is not exciting or pivotal at all, but I basically wish I could put the entire dialogue of the scene on a coffee mug and drink from it every morning. It’s a scene where Audrey Hepburn’s character, a Princess from a unknown European country of utmost importance, is lying in her bed as her assistant is telling her of her plans of what to do, say, and where to go for the entire week, including when to accept gifts and when to politely decline them.
The assistant goes on and on, as the Princess is basically about to pull a Gary Busey and go ape$h!t out of exhaustion out of hearing of all the bowing and waving she must do when all she really wants to do is explore Rome like an escaped Olsen Twin a la “Passport to Paris”. She basically starts screaming at the assistant and a doctor is called in to give the Princess some elephant tranquilizers, I mean, like something to calm her nerves.
And then one of the Doctor’s four lines total in the entire movie comes up and it’s something along the lines of “I think it’s time you do exactly as you choose for a little while, dear”.
AND BAM, MY LIFE MOTTO. IN A NUTSHELL. IN THE LEAST EXCITING SCENE (to most people) IN “ROMAN HOLIDAY’”.
…And basically, that’s what I’m doing. Exactly what I want to do for a little while, my dears. I’m pulling a Carmen San Diego until I choose (basically whenever I know where I’m transferring to. My nerdiness is writhing over how much I miss school). I guess I’m pulling more of an Olsen Twin-adventure, but we won’t split hairs, okay?
And I feel so free. Like I just drank peppermint tea whilst practicing yoga to Enya music. Like I could just spin-kick any opposition right in the motha-flippin’ face like it ain’t no thang. ‘Cause I’d be so mad flexible from the yoga, and feeling like a champion because of the tea, and just walk away from my spin-kicked opponent because of that mad-peaceful Enya music.
And I think that’s a pretty amazing place to be. And I hope the same to you, whoever you are. I hope you too feel like you could spin-kick any mother-flippin’ opposition to its face like it’s just part of your daily routine. ‘Cause it should be.
*This post was written the night after I went to an MIT frat party and had about maybe 2 hours of sleep, so I am no way responsible if this post makes no sense, but I sincerely hope it does!*
listening to ‘ladies of cambridge’// vampire weekend.