This summer has been all about racking up frequent flyer miles, living out of suitcases and tackling giants by the name of Universal and Disney World in the relentless Florida one-two punch of heat and humidity. Above all, these last couple of months have emphasized the sacrifices we make and the lengths we go to spend time with people we like more than the general population in extraordinary (and sometimes extraordinarily expensive) places.
A few things this summer has taught me:
No travel bug escape is complete without music. I don’t want anything else in my ear as I wait on the runway, feeling the plane come to life beneath and around me while discretely staking a claim on the armrest. Sorry, Person Next to Me, it’s going to be a long flight! And White Lies is along for the ride! The lyrics suit the experience almost too well, it’s a bit too obvious, but the way the song builds in tandem with a departing plane and mirrors that exhilaration has been one of my staples of summer.
The foundation for my love of film is a deep appreciation of where it all began. For instance, the early inventions that led to the birth of cinema were peepshow devices. Tools of entertainment mainly used to give the people of the late 1800s a little thrill are ultimately responsible for one of the greatest industries in the world, an art and pastime that’s become apart of daily life for many. I’ve been lucky enough to get up close and personal with a couple of these authentic optical toys at a coin operated arcade on San Francisco’s infamous Pier 45.
It’s kind of a funny story how I ended up spending four years in a city I’ve never been to before moving into the worst and cheapest student housing option available. (It was quite literally a crack den.) Basically, my first choice school slapped me with a rejection letter so the university that offered me the most money in scholarships won the battle for my acceptance. Okay, so maybe that wasn’t a funny story, not at all. I probably would have described it as tragic in the moment, but it was a practical decision that led me to this city with a reputation for being weird and Portland, Oregon, is weird, but in the best way.
On more than one occasion I’ve admitted to loving Portland in real, verbal conversations. Portland is like that weird 75% vegan friend, always hopped up on coffee (among other things), who you aren’t sure about in the beginning, but slowly you come to learn that they’re dependable even if they aren’t 100% trustworthy. That friend who’s moody most days and unpredictable, with fantastic taste in music and access to independent cinema, that teaches you about art and life.
We always say that people and circumstances help shape who we become, often forgetting that our environment is just as great of a factor. I’m different from who I was five years ago and living in Portland is a big part of that.
I miss you, Portland. God help me, I do.
My first time on an airplane was when I was a little more than a year old. I can’t confirm or deny, but I strongly suspect I was that baby on that five-hour flight from LAX to Honolulu International who made someone two rows back turn up the volume on their Discman and swear to never have kids. I’ve flown nearly every year since and that’s how my indifference toward flight and my travel addiction took root.
was perfect or that any of the Marvel movies are, but they push quality product. I’m a fan of Marvel’s ability to balance actor, drama and humor in a single film and I like that I can watch the fight scenes and heavy CGI scenes without feeling nauseous from the camera movement. With the ridiculous prices of movie theater tickets and snacks, I can be choosy about what I pay to see, but I can never say no to a Marvel superhero movie.
Time is unforgiving. It goes by, never slows, never waits for anyone or anything. Time forces us to pick up and move, to adapt and change so we evolve along with it. Life is an inevitable process better embraced than fought. Sometimes before we can even begin to look forward, it’s a comfort to look back.
I don’t know where I’m going or what’s going to happen in the future. We can only guess about what’s in front of us, but we can always look back on where we’ve been. I remember when my biggest dream was to leave home, literally escape the island. I always knew there was so much more out there just waiting to be found and somehow, I’ve gotten lost in it all. Lost in the very best sense of the word. Amazed. Consumed. And I love every second of living.
Oh, lazy Sundays. Hello, Nostalgia.
There are few things I hate more than riding airplanes. The near-suffocating feeling of being confined for an extended period of time, the odd smells that linger, every time the stranger next to me shifts and their arm grazes mine. The hours to kill. The finality of leaving. And the people I’m leaving behind.
The view out the window of my dorm freshman year. Prime real estate.
AKA “Mecca of the Hipsters”
The Head and the Heart
“Rivers and roads, rivers and roads, rivers ’til I reach you…”
Wonder Woman. Unafraid to dance on her own.
Early mornings and a long way from home.
One of the best things about Sedona, other than catching some sun by a little creek with a good book, was all the surrounding rock formations that serve as a playground for the imagination. It’s always so interesting how we automatically assign meaning and interpretations to things. When I first saw the “Modonna and Child” I honestly thought “singing dinosaur hand puppet.”
The clouds over SF move by so quickly. I’m sure there’s a metaphor for life in there somewhere…
I might not know what my exact future looks like, but if it resembles my past in the slightest, it can’t be all that horrible. If being lost in what the world has to offer can be this beautiful, why would anyone want to be found?
Thoughts? Comment, like or tweet me.
J e s s y c a _ P O V 
