Weird

Fascination is a weird thing.

If you carry it a little further over the line, it becomes another F word - fetish.

I have this fascination.

It's nothing big. It's like the little mole on my thumb, the odd shaped freckle down my spine and some scars covering my knee cap.

It sometimes worries me. My fascination with people that is.

I think I am fascinated with the way my fascination with particular humans functions.

It creeps up my neck, through my spinal cord, and comes into the center of my brain as if someone gave it authority to do so. Like a rash if you will.

It doesn't irritates much, but it bothers you a little.

Just a little though.

That's my fascination.

And like a rash it displays a glorious yet sinister splash of red, then like a rash, quietly, yet violently exits and disappears leaving no trail of evidence that it was there moments ago.

My fascination is that rash.

At this present moment, my body and my soul are swallowed up by this inevitable rash that presents itself once in a while.

Screaming and displaying authority.

Telling me that it is taking over my thoughts and turning me into this fool that can't be bothered by anything but a weird fascination.



A fascination for a particular human.

Late

I think humans are obsessed with the idea of a journey because of the possibility, opportunity and uncertainty this journey symbolizes.

I have been on many journeys. As a young child, I was forced to move from schools to schools because of the financial situation my family was in at the time. Each time we moved, I was faced with a journey. I can't quite recall the exact emotion I had as a child about these journeys forced upon me, but I do know one thing, they made me who I am today.

Then there's the journey that took me to the place I am today. As difficult as it may appear, the journey that took me across oceans and continents didn't quite give me anxiety or fear that most would assume one might have. I remember feeling peaceful and calm as I took the offer to go study abroad all by myself. No tears nor struggles. I just said yes.

The journey I took to New York City, however, went exactly as I expected ‑ filled with anticipation and anxiety. These are the kind of emotions that you experience as a child, when you wait for the moment to tear open a gift on Christmas day, or getting ready to see your favorite grandma.. I don't know. 

Nevertheless, the city brought back in me this childlike excitement that I have lost connection with for a long time. 

Despite all the cliches about New York City, the city itself overcame me completely the moment I stepped off on 34th street. And for the next five days, my journey was filled with endless glamour and made-true fairytales that I used to watch on TV.

As I return, however, back to reality, I found this emptiness, for lack of a better word to describe this state of being, inside of me;And I kept thinking how I want to indulge in the liveliness and endless energy that seems to fill every corner of New York City. I want to be in that environment where tired faces and labored bodies are buried under the bright city lights and see the pretend beauty in every silhouette turning in the busy streets trying to find a piece of earth where they can call home. I want to climb to the top of Rockefeller Center and behold twinkling stars from below while trying to feel some aesthetic inspiration granted to me by that experience as if I was somebody important or of great intelligence and artistry; and ultimately, fitting into the sweet city air permeated with scents of sweat, fumes, smokes, greed, desires that very accurately paints the lowest of human nature and the most joyous aspects of humanity.

I guess what I am trying to say, this late at night sitting in a small room by myself, is that I am ready to take on this ongoing journey called higher education and hope for the best that I come out of it with something to prove my value and be equal to the standard of New York City.