I am at the start of a trip I cannot begin to fathom, the precipice of departure—at the gate of my hometown airport. It’s four in the morning now, and I’m in my bed writing on my phone as I visualize the near future, only hours away.
After two years of failed attempts, I’m here. Where is that, you ask? For me right now, here is any place other than where I’m from—not out of some angsty hate for my home, but from a passion for adventure. These are some notes I took this week, on the first few days of my journey abroad.
In a crew of five, ready to set out for a European summer and many adventures after that, our hidden anticipation made for a special takeoff. I didn’t expect it to feel so cathartic when the plane disconnected from the ground, but it signed off on our plans, our stress and worries. It dignified them. And now, I write to you above the clouds…
It’s in the details that there is beauty, yet they are easily forgotten. Wandering Paris streets, the slits between buildings offer something new for my eyes each time again, though I’ve been here before. It’s important to give new things to your eyes, to let them see, and sometimes even old forgotten passages can be new.
For months, honestly for the past two years, I’ve mostly been home, looking at the same walls and furniture every day. Though I could have done more with what I had to fix that stagnation, a drastic pivot in my environment has seemed to fix my problem.
It’s important to give yourself what you want and need. It’s a selective game, though. Some wants are foolish and some needs require compromise, but nonetheless, we require much from ourselves, and it’s our duty to fulfill those requirements. Like a little office clerk checking off boxes, we need to do certain things in order to care for ourselves, and for me, I needed to see different things, in hopes to see things differently.
(sorry, cheese)
I got stuck in a cycle of thinking, back in my hometown. It’s a perplexing place, full of newbies who insist on being down-to-earth about their snobbery, and my mind spent a lot of time ruminating on that puzzle… Why I didn’t feel at home there, why I didn’t like parts of it, and I never spent much time appreciating the beauty it carried—I’d seen past that in my day-to-day routine, a routine of work and school, busy burying my priorities and truths in pursuit of a brighter future. With my worn out eyes, I missed the details.
To get to Paris, to my year abroad, I had to sacrifice some of my less necessary needs temporarily. I wrote, slept, spent, and worked out less than is my norm and felt terrible for it, but the goal never changed: to be here, among these city streets.
Live your way,
Noah
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