Movin' On Up

Blew this joint, but will probably be back after Wordpress fails to satisfy my needs. Until then, do visit!

http://soundsofanafterlife.wordpress.com/

What are you living for?

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Philly Revisted

I never knew Philadelphia's 30th Street Station was so large. Nor did I dream they had wireless I could swipe from the nice little cafe, Cosi, from which I bought nothing. My head is heavy with thoughts and time, so I'm even more thankful for the clean bistro tables inside, though I don't think the umbrellas overhead are necessary.

After a night of lazing around and watching a surprisingly good horror flick, Hide and Seek, Colleen and I set out late the following day to the Mutter Museum. Despite an upset stomach, I couldn't tear my eyes away from the numerous cabinets filled with jars of formaldehyde-dunked brains and spiraling cochleas, poor disfigured and gruesome souls that never made it out of the womb alive and the giant 5-foot-long, forty-pound colon coiled like a snake next to a cabinet of eerie, smiling skeletons. We were even more intrigued by the mysterious shrunken heads in glass cases upstairs, as well as the nearby soap lady, frozen in an unusual decaying state with a look of horror on her anthracitic face.

Once we had enough of floating abnormalities and a lengthy, but fascinating recap history lesson of Lincoln and his assassin (Yes, the museum has a piece of Booth there, but nothing of Lincoln's), I decided it was high time to take Colleen's Philly Cheesesteak virginity. Though I've been there before, Geno's never fails to satisfy a rumbling belly. With some cheese fries on the side, I left satisfied, while Colleen's stomach decided whether or not it liked so much Cheez Whiz. (It didn't.) That night, we teamed up with the lovely Suzann and her engineer boyfriend, Dan, to spend the night boozing and bowling in Glen Mills.

Now it's time to leave, and I'm astounded how quickly the weekend flew by. Always the enemy, Time. Yet, nothing was wasted, and just as I took so much away from a conversation with my grandmother about her life during the war, I learned a great deal more about the Mazazula and how she views life. Perhaps she has changed in the past few years, but I believe that for a long time, I ignored or was at least blithely unaware of what she most desired once we graduated from high school and college - that being a family and a home in which to settle down. What I couldn't have predicted, however, was the person with whom she'd plan out this life and where this settling would take place.

I never once imagined myself returning to Blairsville to live, let alone spend more than a week or two, but that's exactly what she plans to do. There's nothing wrong with the place, nor the current to-be husband she's with, but regardless, the idea of settling at this age at all, no matter a small town or large city, scares me more than anything. To me, it's like sealing the deal with Death, but for her, it's everything she's dreamed of and more. Her boyfriend has a wonderful family, she'll undoubtedly have good kids and the relationship she's in is one of the best working ones I've seen. So what's so bad about settling and creating that close-knit family? What does it matter where you are, so long as you're with the people you love?

I believe there's no right track for anyone, but her path doesn't sound like the one for me. I feel as though I have to keep moving, continue learning and never stop seeing until I finally drop dead of exhaustion. I know I won't be in New York long, and it makes me incredibly sad that I'll be forced to leave friends like Colleen behind to pursue whatever it is I'm trying to pursue. For now, however, I'm worried for Colleen, but more happy for her than anything. Thanks to her and Jess, Philly will always remain a special destination to me and I'll be ready to visit again soon enough.

We Know Time

"We know time." This mantra is repeated often throughout Kerouac's On The Road and to me, conjures up the image of one sweat-soaked Dean Moriarty, a protagonist who pops in and out of the narrator's life throughout his travels on the roads of America. He also symbolizes a futile resistance against death, always aware that his "time" is limited and that even sleeping would allow for his demise to be one step closer.

Cassady and Kerouac/Moriarty and Paradise

For a few weeks now, I've felt my time slipping through my fingers, and at times, have even felt as if though I've been floating, watching the mad circus of life march past me in a frenzy, like a mad Dean Moriarty furiously whipping past in an old Cadillac as I stand on the side of the road, paralyzed by just the thought of joining the dance of life and death. Lately, I've resorted to my senses - touching, smelling - to take stock of my surroundings, and hopefully once again feel life's pulse, rather than getting lost in the rush of it all. Unfortunately, it wasn't enough, so I decided it'd be a good idea to write about what has been happening since I last posted. Hopefully, this will make things slow down and properly put into order what I've recently only seen as a frightful chaos; then maybe I won't know time so dreadfully personally.

Since I last posted, my internship at Family Travel Forum ended and I continued the exhaustive task of job searching. I had been applying to a mix of places for some time, but only recently did I learn of and apply to a public relations company known as Quinn & Co. The job, a travel and public relations intern, didn't pan out unfortunately, and so I was forced to keep looking for other options. The same week, however, I had tentatively handed in my resume to Hostelling International, the same building housing the Family Travel Forum office. While I possibly have an interview for the front desk position, I'm excited nonetheless; I'll no longer have to worry about money, I can study languages for the possibility of grad school, and I can spend any extra cash on violin lessons, something I've wanted to do for some time now.

Though I wouldn't consider it a job, I was also accepted as a historical writer for Examiner.com. In all the mess of job searching, interviewing, New York's miserable weather, and finishing up at FTF, however, I've only completed one article. Yet, with the possibility of the hostel job, I hope I can tackle all of these things and more.

While I've barely accomplished much in the past month, the future has several things in store: In early March, I have a coffee date (tentative) with Andrew Mersmann, Editor-in-Chief of Passport Magazine. I'm excited not only to meet the head of such a well-known and amazing publication, but also the author of 500 Places Where You Can Make A Difference, which I only discovered in the last week thanks to my FTF editor, Kyle McCarthy. While I would love to work at Passport and there's always a small chance that Mr. Mersmann may take interest in me at his publication, I'm happy just to meet someone of his standing and genius. Just as my editor has been so helpful and considerate since I arrived at FTF (She bought me a dapper winter coat!), I hope Mr. Mersmann can at least point me in some direction and allow me to tap his mind for advice and his experiences.

Besides work and job hunting, I've been itching to get out of the city and do a little traveling. After writing up a release on Greyhound's $5 fares from New York to Philadelphia, I decided to take them up on their supposed offer and jump on the bus to see my long lost dear friend, the Mazazula. Unfortunately, Greyhound wouldn't give up its promised goodies, but where one door closed, a better one opened. Tomorrow, I'll be shipping out on the ever-comfortable two-decker Megabus for a short two-hour jaunt west to Philly. I can hardly wait to see Gino's, let alone Colleen and those other crazy cats of brotherly and sisterly love, among them my own sister.

Then, speaking of family, I'll be catching a flight down to Jacksonville, Florida from JFK, while my mother boards in Pittsburgh. From March 4th to the 7th, we'll be enjoying the perks of my final press trip in connection with Family Travel Forum (Unless, of course, they want to give me any more!). Bike tours, lounging on the beach, excellent food: A good way to take a break before possibly beginning a long but beneficial haul at the hostel.

Go, go, go. Another of Dean's frenzied phrases, and something I believe fits my lifestyle as well. Yet, I'm glad I could stop and write down these thoughts, just to simply observe everything I have accomplished and jolt my senses back into reality. I think once the warmer months hit New York, I'll also be ready to hit the pavement again and get more accomplished. I'm nervous, anxious, excited, confused, determined, hesitant and ready all at once, but at least I can actually feel these things.