Home > Transit > Not going to miss the lactose

Not going to miss the lactose

It only looks like I’m prepared. Wait, it doesn’t even.

It was one of those mornings where I wasn’t sure if I had actually been awake before my phone busted out it’s 80’s new wave alarm tone.  I opened my eyes to the red monster-suitcase and its new best friend the disappointingly uncapacious backpacking backpack.

“If it can’t fit anything, then just don’t bring it with you,” my mom said.  She encouraged me to use the red-monster’s younger cousin.  I, having just sacrificed my sleeping pad, refused to let my backpack be shunted from the very situation for which I purchased it six months ago.

The backpack had really been a consolation present to myself, a promise, that is, that since I had been very very unlucky in love that December, I would yank myself out of loneliness and disappointment and throw myself into some other kind of mess–I mean adventure.  Adventure.  No exact adventure was in my mind, but I knew I wanted to be ready to seek them.  I had, however, been awakened the idea of what that adventure was several months before in this way:

Emily sits in front of her computer on a Danish February after working a night shift, clicking through her UCSB e-mail account.  Reads: stipend, plus plane tickets, plus housing, plus language oriented job to which Emily finds herself rather oriented located in Zhuhai, China.

Emily:  I wanna go!  I wanna go!  Wait…not graduating yet…also boyfriend…sigh…

Deletes.

But then!  Graduated!  No boyfriend!  New backpack!  Application letters, phone interviews, almost indecipherable health clearances, warranting groans from the Student Health nurses who couldn’t figure out how to inspect the health of my “nest.”  My Taiwanese friend Naomi read “neck”, which was a relief.  I was concerned about getting my ovaries pawed, as I prefer to only submit to such treatment once a year.  The summer, chasing parachutes, analogue editing, wondering why people don’t visit their Spanish tutor, getting stood up by former acquaintances (tear), narrowly dodging romantic drama, and broadly dodging a concentrated study of Mandarin, passed with surreal pasty-hometown chromatics. There were so many friends from which I reluctantly untangled myself that I only slept alone twice in the last week and a half.

Now I’m in San Fransisco.  When I had my eyes opened long enough, I opened the computer, then opened the phone and called Steve.  He had just gotten off the train, and so I picked 49B and 49C for the two of us to share our hometown temp life stories for 17+ hours in the sky, in the dark.  Tomorrow night, 1am, we’ll be there.

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Categories: Transit
  1. Nadia
    August 23, 2009 at 5:51 pm

    Lactose sorely misses you already.

    Hottie. : b

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