10/3
11:00 am: It's October 3rd and naturally, I'm sitting here thinking about Mean Girls because I think that's what millennials are supposed to do on October 3rd. I'm sipping on my coffee and just starting to wake up. I had a tough time sleeping last night. I kept myself up for a while, heartbroken from the tragedy that just happened in Las Vegas. The horrible images and videos I saw yesterday were so powerful they jolted me up in the middle of the night. I tried sending out as much love energy as I could muster up, hoping it would somehow help the world become a bit softer. All I know is I saw all those wonderful people on the news the next day, lining up for hours to donate blood and hand out snacks and work together towards healing. There is so much goodness that pours out of all that pain.
12:39 pm: Now, I'm sitting in the New City Library pretending that I have really important things to do. I chose a table that has a single streak of light on it, the only table I could find that is touched by the sun. I just met with a distant and seemingly discontented woman to discuss ways I could afford health insurance for the next year (Americorps doesn't give me much to work with). I don't like having to be an adult and meet with people in libraries to talk about health insurance, but hey, I guess it has to happen sometime. Anyway, now I'm on Medicaid, which is free even though it apparently only works in New York except for emergencies. I'm so done thinking about insurance that I don't even care, I'm ready to give up and hope the Good Health Gods and Goddesses chill with me for the next year.
There's only 8 more days here. I got my flight info this morning. I'm leaving from LaGuardia at 5:45 next Wednesday morning. I have a layover in Houston, Texas, then I'm heading to Sacramento. Exciting stuff. I've never been on a plane by myself before. Kerry calmed my nerves by reminding me that I will thrive in my own way, by making silly small talk with the security guards and by somehow developing intimate friendships with old ladies that don't speak any English on the plane to the point that we are holding hands at the end of the flight. That has happened. I do like airports. I like romanticizing airports and how they mirror the patterns of change. People in constant motion, arriving and departing, beginning and ending and beginning again. I like seeing people hug and kiss in airports, I like seeing people asleep on benches in airports, I like watching people run to try to catch their flights, in a hurry to be somewhere. When you're in an airport, you aren't really anywhere at all. But you're going somewhere. You're always going somewhere, and that's nice. Even if it means you're leaving someplace else you love.
The streak of light on my table has grown and moved now, and it has been joined by another small streak. The light invited more light! The other tables remain untouched, for now.
~V
12:39 pm: Now, I'm sitting in the New City Library pretending that I have really important things to do. I chose a table that has a single streak of light on it, the only table I could find that is touched by the sun. I just met with a distant and seemingly discontented woman to discuss ways I could afford health insurance for the next year (Americorps doesn't give me much to work with). I don't like having to be an adult and meet with people in libraries to talk about health insurance, but hey, I guess it has to happen sometime. Anyway, now I'm on Medicaid, which is free even though it apparently only works in New York except for emergencies. I'm so done thinking about insurance that I don't even care, I'm ready to give up and hope the Good Health Gods and Goddesses chill with me for the next year.
There's only 8 more days here. I got my flight info this morning. I'm leaving from LaGuardia at 5:45 next Wednesday morning. I have a layover in Houston, Texas, then I'm heading to Sacramento. Exciting stuff. I've never been on a plane by myself before. Kerry calmed my nerves by reminding me that I will thrive in my own way, by making silly small talk with the security guards and by somehow developing intimate friendships with old ladies that don't speak any English on the plane to the point that we are holding hands at the end of the flight. That has happened. I do like airports. I like romanticizing airports and how they mirror the patterns of change. People in constant motion, arriving and departing, beginning and ending and beginning again. I like seeing people hug and kiss in airports, I like seeing people asleep on benches in airports, I like watching people run to try to catch their flights, in a hurry to be somewhere. When you're in an airport, you aren't really anywhere at all. But you're going somewhere. You're always going somewhere, and that's nice. Even if it means you're leaving someplace else you love.
The streak of light on my table has grown and moved now, and it has been joined by another small streak. The light invited more light! The other tables remain untouched, for now.
~V
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