Tuesday, March 15, 2005

Last night I dreamt of airports.

I'm tired of being distracted by boys. In this culture, there is something wrong with a girl if she doesn't have a boyfriend. Buy this perfume and the boys will like you. Use this moisturizer and you'll be perfect, and you'll have the perfect guy. No, no, no, I cannot blame things on the media. That doesn't work. Blaming doesn't accomplish anything.

One too many romance novels leaves this girl disappointed with reality.

I would really like to talk about this, but its a subject best discussed with other girls, and not my daily monologue.

In other news: Joanie gave me copies of her pictures from China. It was so strange to look at them. You see, I know my pictures. I know what to expect when I look through them. But then here are pictures of things I do not have. Like, I did not expect to see a picture of me sitting in O'Hare. And looking at it takes me back there, to that moment. I had a book in my hand because we had a long layover. I had my luggage between my legs because it kept falling over. When this picture was taken, I had only been on that short flight from Dayton to Chicago in the tiny, tiny plane. There were so many things I would experience just after that photo was taken. I was tired, excited, nervous, impatient, and a few other things. The intercom kept repeating, "Please do not leave luggage unattended. Any luggage left unattended will be taken away by. . ." and then again in Spanish. I can almost feel the straps of the backpack-purse digging into my shoulders. . . So many things from a photo.

And to think, one day I will look at the picture and hardly remember anything.

I still dream of it.
But one day the experience will stop echoing in my dreams and I will lose myself in the routines of daily life, the safety of it, and never think of the beauty of adventure.

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