Walking on a Dream
When you live out of the country for weeks on end you develop your own habits, which often can be more originally formed than those that one has been previously accustomed to in their own home land. I’ve been yearning for that reformation of identity, but what’s more is, since I do not have a job-I want to travel, I want to go to a place of the world that will scare me, that will make peace with me, and have a one sided love affair with. Vacations are no good. They don’t serve a real purpose for those who don’t have jobs, because what are taking a vacation from? Living life the way you want to live life?
When I went to Peru I had a great time. It was hard to adjust, but after a while I began to dread returning home. While in a different country you must accustom yourself to the quotidien rituals of those who are your “protectors”, and then if they are as great as mine, you eventually don’t need them. It’s like being reborn, growing up, and becoming an adult again. Perhaps I crave this feeling because I did not have a particularly unique upbringing. I’m a white bread kind of gal in a midwestern town trying to desperately break out of here and become less sedentary, and more nomadic.
If I had the chance, I’d travel the world more thoroughly. Who knows maybe I’ll get a job with UNESCO and I’ll work in a foreign country like Liberia and make a real difference. I hope. I don’t want to get tied down with “life” before I get my chance.
