Notes from my road trip.
College Countdown: 33
Wow. How awesome I am. I was on a road trip with my best friend for two days… and yet I still had the urge to blog. Or, at least, write something. I have two notes that I wrote that I’ll share with you now.
July 28th 2008 (late-ish)
Dear Bloggy Blog Readers,
I’m writing this on a piece of scrap paper to put on my blog at a later date- maybe tomorrow night when I get home. Who knows.
Needless to say, I’ve had a few drinks. I’m sitting in one of the bedrooms of the apartment-style res I’ll be moving into in about a month.
It’s quite a lot larger than I originally thought. So that’s good. My desk chair is quite nice.
Anyway, gotta go “break the seal”. Ciao, my darlings. I love you all.
And here was a note I wrote this morning… while sober, I might add.
July 29th 2008 – 8:50 AM
Forgive the last note. Blame it on the bearded Russian guy on the side of the bottle.
I’m sitting at the kitchen table of my future home- obviously not the same room, but I digress.
I’m sitting by an open window, the sounds of a busy street, a busy morning and a busy city flowing in like music to my city-hungry ears.
As for the view, it’s nothing to write home about. From a general perspective, it’s kinda crappy. From a writer’s perspective, it’s perfect- flawed but beautiful. From a personal perspective, it’s somehow comforting: behind the “flawed but beautiful”, I can see a river- and that river leads to the ocean. Outside of my bedroom window at home, there is a river that leads to the ocean.
So, a home by the sea has found me again. Or maybe, I went searching for it.
I know this sounds corny, but I think I’m falling for this city- tourist traps and all. I love the old downtown sector best- every building old and filled with history. Every inch of the waterfront has been photographed by tourists. I’m from a tourist town- just on a much, much smaller scale- so I understand tourists more than some people might.
I understand that need to preserve every memory in a photo. Even if it can only capture a glimpse of that memory, sometimes even a glimpse is all you need.