Clap!
I slammed my door shut, checked the mirrors, and rested my hands on the
steering wheel. I have entered my
own little space ship, and I am ready for take off. Okay, I guess this is it. I lifted my hand and threw my parents a sloppy wave goodbye
with a tired smile. Deep
breath. I switched into drive and
lightly lifted my foot off of the gas. I progressed down my runway- slowly
though! Or else my parents will get nervous that I driving too fast.
There
better not be traffic or… Oh of course there is. My car slowed up behind a tall black Jeep, patiently waiting
in line for the Henry Hudson Parkway.
The jeep towered over my little meek Honda Civic, casting a dark,
intimidating shadow on me like an evil villain getting ready to pounce on its
prey. Let’s move!
Yes,
thank God that did not take too long!
My spaceship began to pick up speed. 35…43… wait. An aged green Toyota was slowing
up in front of me. Oh come
on! I grasped my steering wheel,
steadied it while checked the left lane.
Hmmm, I could probably get over.
Wait, let this Mercedes pass.
Okay now!
Toll. Follow the sign for the GW. Why is it that I could have probably
made this trip blindfolded, yet I always look for the signs to the bridge? I steered a slight left and guided my car
up the windy, spiral staircase that led to the entrance of the George
Washington Bridge. As I turned the
corner, I could feel my tiny, little car—my spaceship rather—quake with
anxiety. Tracker-trailers zoomed
by, bullying the rest of us little sedans. The silver iron suspension ropes guided my long stretch
along the bridge; it felt like the towering regal structure was watching over
me.
“New
Jersey Welcomes You!” This is the road that I will remain on for the next three
hours until I reach Loyola.
This
is my stream of consciousness as I left my house and drove to Loyola for the
start of my senior year. There
were jitters; there was excitement and anticipation; and there was even a
little sadness leaving my home and parents. Yes, this past summer was one of the best I have ever had,
but it was time to go back to school.
Throughout this passage, you should sense a lot of movement in physical
travel, as well as emotional. Even
in the simple task of driving there are risks and there is a lot of responsibility. Whenever I embark on these long
journeys to the depths of the Chesapeake Watershed (as they call it on those
billboards along i95) I grow extremely anxious that by the time of my actual
arrival I feel as if I had ran the entire trip. Think of how many accidents you pass on the street everyday,
and think of all of the accidents you see on the news. What if something happens? It is moments like these where you need
to pull yourself back, regain control of yourself, and just go with it. Yes, Christina, something bad could
happen, but guess what—nothing has yet, so keep going. Travel isn’t always beautiful (as I
illustrated in my last post), but you need a positive mindset in order to get
yourself through.
In
Hau’ofa’s Tales of the Tikongs each
character that is described is different from the other. They have weaknesses and issues, yet
they somehow recover or work with them, forming the Tikong culture. The structure of the narrative allows
for each piece of the community to be thoroughly analyzed, similar to the
structure of Invisible Cities, but
there is a string of unity that can be ran across each individual. They are all searching for a moral
compass or a way to cope, and most of them do manage. They go through their lives, just as you and I are, and they
find something within themselves that brings them to a solution of how to get
by. This connection may seem a bit
cliché, but it’s a universal truth.
How do you get yourself over the mountains and hills, the thunderstorms
and hurricanes, the sickness and injury?
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