Preparations

27 August 2011

Indian Oaks Dr

Lincoln CA

Greetings,

I’m taking a brief moment from packing to write a letter because a) its time for an update and b) I enjoy procrastination.

The good news is that I’m flying SFO to Salt Lake to Paris to Amman, thereby completely bypassing Hurricane Irene that is stranding a lot of my soon to be classmates on the east coast. The bad news is that I just checked my seating information for the Salt Lake-Paris flight and I’m stuck in a middle row middle seat. I apologize in advance for falling asleep on my potentially obese and smelly seatmates. Maybe if I’m obnoxious enough they will decide they want to trade me seats.  

Further bad news: iTunes just canceled their TV rental program, which means I now have to pay $1.99 per episode instead of .99 cents. This means it will cost me twice as much to watch the last 5 episodes of Season 1 of Dollhouse as I careen across the Atlantic. First world problems.

In the time I’ve spent in Lincoln visiting my parents I’ve come to conclude that in Amman there will be a) faster internet connection b) better weather and c) less of a chance of explosion. See family, no need to worry about me, I’m getting a trade up by moving to the Middle East.

Remind me to record my thoughts about Facebook stalking the people going on my trip at another time, I just heard the dryer finish and I’m going to go pretend that I can fit 4 months worth of clothes into one duffle.

All the best,

B 

Thats right. I'm running away from home.

“…talk of travel was a beginning for any person, but it had no end. Young and old alike knew it…”        –Abdelrahman Munif Cities of Salt

8 August 2011 

Tivoli St 

San Diego CA 

USA 

Greetings-

The day of my departure is fast approaching, and I’ve finally reached the point

Of being I am desperately, achingly, ready (emotionally at least).

In July the woman who had been the center of my existence passed away, leaving my day-to-day life with a gaping hole and wrapped in grey. I’m still nervous about leaving the rest of my family, but as one of my Sister-Aunts says, “You need to go. For you.”

Although Point Loma is a lovely place, and my professors and classmates are darlings, I hate school. Always have, always will. I hate classrooms and mandatory reading and writing and listening to my so-called “peers” share their opinions (I’m an elitist. I admit this). I don’t want to stop going to school, I just want to go to school somewhere else with different people for a change.

I’m tired of upper middle class white America, the famous “Loma bubble.” There are other people and other places and different cultures out there, and I want to see what I’m missing.

            Mostly though, I’m tired. I’m tired of my dead end job and dead end relationships and being stuck in one place.  I need a change. I need to be by myself. I need to grow.  So if I’m being honest, I’m running away. I’m running in a truly dramatic fashion- fleeing the country on an airliner, but don’t worry Mom, I’ll be back.

            Despite my exhaustion I’m full of a restless energy. It is the kind of thing that usually drives me out the door for a run on the cliffs or trip into the city, but this time that just isn’t enough. It’s time for me to go big or go home.

If my boss has to hear “whatever, I’m leaving the country in a month” one more time, I may get fired.

I have a plane ticket, a rolling duffle, and a leather jacket. Lets go already.

All the best, 

B