I had a Xanga. It was a thriving enterprise that lasted from seventh grade to the beginning of tenth grade - a long life of 4 years. That was six years ago.
The Xanga had a strong life. For one, it embraced the career choice (writing/journalism) that the entire universe had decided for me and that I had attempted to suppress. I ended up putting an end to the Xanga’s life, but not as an act of rebellion by a still aspiring surgeon (more on that ridiculousness later).
I’m sure some of you can relate to that fateful day when you decided to terminate your xanga. After the deed was done I double-checked to see that those accumulated entries of middle school ambition and high school achievements/traumas were eliminated by typing in the name of it in Google and clicking “Enter”. The search results were random sites of similar sounding tidbits and I suddenly felt the hollow void form in my once surfer flat stomach that was, ironically, already hollow.(Thank you Townsend Harris workouts/dance all day, err'day.)
The mourning period consisted of me writing in notebooks, diaries, to an audience of one - me. Though I did have sneaking suspicion that my mother had read some of it despite her denials until now. *Warning: I’m probably one of the most cynical people you will ever know.* Eventually I got over the whole situation.
Actually, no I didn’t- and that’s why you’re reading this right now. I was not over it.
Prior to this, in the past academic year, I took it out on members of an organization at UPenn by taking advantage of my status as “Secretary”. I realize now that my peers would be the unsuspecting victims of a long e-mail, expecting only two-three lines telling them when and where the meeting would take place, only to be face-to-face with an essay. Well, here are a short two words to make up for that: My bad.
I realize that most blogs are of people who travel to explore/study (valid reasons), or go on service trips to supposedly help out people in life-threatening conditions though they’re completely unqualified (not valid)- but everyone can make a difference…even a penny can make a difference, right?
Yay for cynicism!
Blogs also usually have photos taken at odd angles to make the norm seem indie/artsy/obscure/thoughtful.
Most if not all blogs tend to have a theme.
I don’t have a theme or a plan for this, but I do have an explanation. Though I would love to travel/explore, there are barriers, some understandable, some unfair, but it is what it is. I suppose study abroad was an option technically, (though I still don’t understand how my pre-med cronies are able to do so.)
I am not going to be all abstract and profound when I say I do travel. You could say I travel light - no luggage.
My mind is a ridiculous traveler. I have an uncanny memory that enables me to travel in time and an unhealthy need to rid myself of all ignorance, enabling me to travel to places I’ve never been. Seriously, I could sit in front of a wikipedia monitor screen all day, reading, clicking on a sub-link, repeat, shuffle, try to go back to the original page that I started out with and not be able to. Also, I could take a twenty minute subway ride and arrive face-to-face with the only microcosm of the world that exists - New York City yo.
I could write in a diary for my eyes only- the same eyes that saw my thoughts come to dwell upon paper, the same eyes that edit the entry in search of flaws (say they don’t exist, please!), and the same eyes that will fall upon them at some later time (the next day), and signal to my brain the need to rip out and crumble up the paper, (turns out there were flaws- oh snap).
Truth is I can travel vicariously through my words and there is a lot to say.
Holler at your homefry.