travelling thoughts

There's something completely unique about travelling and maybe that is a super obvious statement but I feel it needs to be stated nonetheless. I access places in a completely different way when I don't live there, and the foreign layouts and places are food for endless wonder and comparison.

I've been to quite a few different places in the past three and a half weeks and I have pretty much found something to love about all of them, whether it is a desolate piece of beach or a neat hispter-y coffeeshop. Libraries are usually my favourite spot; I love it when they have particular rooms just for the use of teens. (I also love the clicking keyboards of library computers that give me a soundtrack as I type.)

Travelling brings so much contrast to my life. I can't help but comparing these places to home and picturing myself living here. There are so many amazing little towns on this continent that are full of really cool people and it seems unfortuante that I won't get to see them all. In part, it makes me glad to be away from White Rock, exploring somewhere new. I want to say I miss it and I guess there's some parts that I do but mostly I'm happy to be immersed in these new places--not knowing every street and its name, not having any memories attached to the buildings before my eyes. Like a blank slate, starting fresh in every new city.

I'm getting used to it, the wanderlove, as Kirsten Hubbard put it. The more I see, the more I realize how much there is to fall in love with. Hopefully, I keep falling.

I don't feel 18

I know it's not like your birthday comes by and suddenly a switch is flipped and you're supposed to feel OLDER. I'm not sure what older feels like. For the last couple of years, older feels like having less of a clue about everything, being less sure--and not necessarily in a bad way. I'm not saying I even want to feel noticeably more mature, even though I'm now legally now responsible for myself.

It's just weird. I remember being younger and thinking I'd have it all together at 18. Well, 16, too. I just assumed I'd be grown up and together. Sorry, 9-year-old self, you must be a little disappointed.

Or maybe you're not. I'm not. I think.