Permanent Reminder of a Temporary Feeling

Traveling is always done with the purpose of searching for something. Be it warmer weather, a lower drinking age, or a new perspective- we are all looking for a (temporary) change. When you leave, though, you must also consider everything that you are leaving behind- and whether it will be there when you get back. Ernest Hemingway once said that it is foolish to travel from one place to another trying to escape your problems- but here, I beg to differ.

I have lied a few too many times when it mattered most. I trust the wrong people. I never know what to say when I disappoint those I care most about. I cannot seem to appreciate the things that I should and I miss things long after they are gone. It's hard for me to understand when people can't forgive and forget- and it's harder for me to get on an airplane by myself or pretend to like mustard.

These are things I would like to change. Though, to be fair, I will never like mustard.

When you have lived in one place for a very, very long period of time, that place molds itself to your mind and it is no longer a location, but a part of who you are. The city, town, neighborhood- it shapes itself differently. Locations, people, sounds- all become part of who you are and how you define yourself. You pass by certain places and cannot help but be reminded of certain times. I will never walk behind townhouse row without thinking of sitting in foldout chairs in the blazing heat for the entire summer- no matter how much snow is on the ground. Whenever I walk by the bar in the mayflower, I remember playing drinking games with maggie, her mom, and her aunt. When I hear the opening of a soda can, I'm instantly at ease and on my dads couch, talking and laughing. There are stranger reminders, too- like the fact that I always think of walking back the night of the election when I get to a certain spot on Pennsylvania Avenue- not the White House. When I walk by GW's sad excuse for a park on F street, I think of a Friday morning in the middle of April, that Brittany and I spent drinking peach andre out of peach snapple bottles. The taste of orange soda reminds me of going out and anything with a sugared rim immediately takes me back to the Daily Grill.

Everyone has triggers like this- great ones that bring a smile to your face no matter what kind of mood you are in. But there is, of course, a flip side.

When you have lived in one place for a long period of time- bad things will inevitably happen there. Things that you won't want to remember quite as much. When these things happen, your once loved, comfortable neighborhood becomes an emotional land mine. You can't go anywhere without recalling something that you wish you could forget. I will never be able to walk past 92nd and Broadway without my stomach turning. Walking east from the 72nd street subway station reminds me only of the dentist. And that corner across the street and to the right when you walk out of the GW Deli (what is that? 23 and H? 22 and G?) will forever make me nauseous.

For 5 days now, I have been in unfamiliar territory. Nothing- for the first time in a LONG time- reminds me of anything. It is strange how the first thing I did when I had my own space was to decorate it with things that would bring me back home- photos, cards, and little trinkets acquired over the years. It is certainly a breath of fresh air to be able to bring only the good with me. Self-selecting that which I wanted to be reminded of. And to be starting anew in this neighborhood- with a completely blank slate. The promise of potential is exciting.

I was craving a sandwich from GW deli for lunch today, but knew I wouldn't be able to get that kind of mediocre, oversized deli sandwich that I have grown to love so much- with the obnoxiously large pickle on the side- anywhere in Paris. I walked to the end of my street, in search of something good. Usually, I can see the entire eiffel tower from the end of my block, but today was foggy and it looked as though the second half of it had disappeared. By the time I walked back home, the entire tower was visible again.