I’ve been thinking a lot about moving very far away. I used to think I could only live in the city because I loved the sophistication, the independence, and the constant activity. The buzz, the commotion, the excitement in a metropolis is almost tangible, it tantalizes every sense. However, I’ve come to realize that it isn’t so much that I need to be in the city and more that I loathe American suburbia with every molecule of my being. The never ending miles of Albertsons, McDonalds, Wal Mart, and strip malls never ceases to give one the feeling of a rock in the gut. I remember being almost physically sick for the entirety of the time I read Fast Food Nation because I was so disgusted with the realization that I lived in this hell hole of festering greed and sameness.
I’d like to move to a bustling city, but I would be equally happy in the middle of nowhere. I’d like to be cut off from all modernization. There is something so Walden-esque, so romantic about being surrounded completely by nature. I love the outdoors, I love those havens that haven’t been exploited and destroyed by the food chains and mini marts. This is why I’ve decided I must move to Ireland, Wales, or some other haunt in the European countryside. I want to be surrounded by sea, trees, and landscape for miles.
I’m not going to lie. Lately, I have been lazy, indulgent, and void of any self discipline. I hate that. I don’t want to hate myself. I need to work through this. There isn’t a painting to jump into or a magical train platform located at 9 ¾. This sounds so silly, I’m almost ashamed to admit it, but in the back of my mind there has always been the small spark of hope that these things actually existed. That there were other worlds waiting, the worlds found in books, for those that believed.
I hope all my longing for leaving my current state doesn’t sound self-centered or whiny. I am thankful for things, even if I don’t show it as best I could. I’m thankful for books, music, history, the sound of waves, sunsets, my sister’s piano playing, and for my own desire for adventure…and so much more. The world is full of beauty, you just have to look for it.
1 comment:
...in the back of my mind there has always been the small spark of hope that these things actually existed. That there were other worlds waiting, the worlds found in books, for those that believed.
Mmm, me too. Even though I know fiction is fiction, and fantasy is fantasy, I still hope from time to time that, the next time I round the corner, I'll stumble upon something magical and exciting.
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