So, I finished my undergraduate degree in March of 2010. I then went about traveling for two months or so. I went around the world about twice, going to India, Singapore, back to the States for two weeks of rest, then off to London, Paris, Switzerland, Venice, Rome, Madrid and finally Franfurt (that’s nine countries, three continents, and dozens of cities). I was a bit adrift, amongst the world traveling and thinking about what to do with the rest of my life. I had applied to law school so that was a safe bet.
Well, here I am finished with the first week of law school. On the cusp of starting the second week. I’ve moved from my beautiful, and oft-described, heavenly San Diego to San Francisco. While law school was a safe back up plan, I never thought moving to this city would be significant part of it.
And to be honest it’s so weird living in San Francisco. When I was a kid, we would drive around these big cities, and I’d excitedly point to every single tall building till my parents finally exclaimed, ‘Son you’d really like to live here, wouldn’t you.’ And I thought about it. Then let it be. Now to walk amongst these giants is humbling, bewildering, and almost natural. Inception does come to mind.
Between the last two years from my world travels, my three months working for Congress in Washington D.C., and a week in New York City all of which was done alone, I have pleasantly become accustomed to the life. I am that 20-something year old described so soberingly and albeit with what seemed like some subconcious malice by the New York Times recently. And behind it all are my parents. Who planted the seed, perhaps unwittingly, in my head all those years ago. They are the backbone of my life. Their story in and of itself is never told. Their coming to America, under the most stressed of circumstances. Beginning their lives here crammed together in a house with the other relatives. Going to college and incurring massive debt in student loans (I think I once naively asked my mother at about the age of 8 or less, when I picked up the mail one day, ‘Mom you always get this from the bank?’ She replied, ‘And I will for the next 30 years.’ A thought that most perplexed me, ‘How can anyone remember something for 30 years?’). Their story while unique its features, is not entirely alone in its fitting, but it is a story of inspiration nonetheless.
I do wonder though, this life I have so far lived. It is not the encultured tenure of explorers and adventurers of old and it is not most certainly the typical journey one takes in the modern century I am told to be living in. Has it changed me? I don’t think so, not in any grandiose sense. But in the little pieces of life. The things that fit the bigger things together, my travels, the people I’ve met, and things I’ve done in the last two to three years has perhaps continued to shape the existence I live. I would be remissed if I did not herein mentioned that I am of course not a perfect smattering of the canvas of life, there are a few pieces I am sorry ever entered the picture.
Even so I wonder then, what will the next few years hold. And more so than ever, I will wonder, why?
