Melissa's Travels

24 years old today. What's so special about turning 24? Three years since I could legally drink, one year away from getting a discount on rental cars. At least 16 years away from hitting a midlife crisis (though bordering dangerously close to quarter life crisis territory...). Really the only thing slightly monumental about turning 24 is the little fact that my mom has been shoving in my face with increasing frequency as today approached. The fact that at my age she had a 3 month old and since I've obviously followed in my mom's footsteps in every way up until this point in life, it is remarkably strange that I haven't yet popped out a kid of my own (for any of you who don't detect the extreme sarcasm lacing these words you have certainly not spent enough time around me or my mom).

So if turning 24 holds no universally significant meaning, I guess it's up to me to determine what this birthday means for me. What do I hope to accomplish at 24? What do I hope to witness, to experience? How do I plan to grow? Questions like this have been whirling around in the back of my mind as I read the entire 200 pages of Around the World in 80 Days aloud to a patient at work. Recounting the character's adventures through 19th century Asia and North America left me wondering what sort of travel adventures lie ahead for myself in the 365 days to come. My recent trip to San Francisco left me acutely aware of just how badly I need frequent vacations from Seattle. Which is why I'm more than ready to head off to Texas in 3 weeks, even if I find myself greeted only by rattlesnakes, sunburns and hangovers as I party with a recently turned 21 crowd. But after that, where will I be off to? Las Vegas? Phoenix? L.A.? Mexico? All definite possibilities as my friends continue to scatter around the globe (conveniently relocating to destinations with a high Spanish speaking population). And then there's the looming question mark of how much longer I'd like to call Seattle my home. Sure, grad school acceptance may make that decision for me, but am I destined to spend the miserably gray rainy winter here in the Pacific Northwest?

Knowing that the endless stream of gray days lies just around the corner gives me even more incentive to identify things to look forward to during the twelve months to come. I'm anxious to return to the world of volunteering, although I'm torn between serving the Latino community or aiding budding writers in inner city schools. A visit to the Contemporary Jewish Museum in San Francisco left my heart breaking over the fact that I've spent nearly three months back here in Seattle and wasted countless hours lazing around my house that I could've been devoting to social justice issues. Within the exhibit that left me moved, the concept of Tikkun Olam was artistically represented, inviting visitors to reflect on their own commitment to repairing the world. And as cheesy and oversimplified as it sounds I suppose that this is a major theme of what I hope to manifest in the year to come. Through my job, through volunteer work, through the books I read, the people I encounter, the self care and reflective practices I adopt, I hope to do my part to repair the world.

And maybe because of this hope I have for the year, but maybe because it is way too late at night and I've recently jumped into the world of Dharma Bums I find myself also aligned with the words of Kerouac tonight,

"The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes "Awww!”"I can't wait for the people I meet on the bus, on the psych unit, and at bars across the city who are jazzed about life and the adventures that await. But even more I'm excited about the amazing people I already know who find inspiration in the seemingly insignificant, who are motivated by the simple fact of being alive and who source their enthusiasm from quotes, art and silly things, like sand castles.