Florida

Thursday morning, I am Florida bound. I'm going to go ahead and say I'm looking forward to this small escape from the hustle and bustle of dear old Chicago. Perhaps the knots in my muscles and the steady pressure on the inside of my forehead will leave me in peace for a fleeting few daiquiri sipping, crab munching, sun soaking, water splashing days.

Before I moved to Chicago, I never knew how much I needed peace. Complete silence is a rare commodity in a big city and being able to lay in bed with just your thoughts is nearly impossible. I've never meditated, but I think there's something about just being alone and quiet that's close.

I'm seeing myself becoming angry and unsettled. I'm not sure if that's the byproduct of Chicago or something that's grown in tandem. Maybe I read too much news. Maybe I'm just fixated on things that I have no way of changing. But I don't know if that's it. I read the news just as much in college. Back then I had the New York Times delivered to me!

But then I had a tendency for escapism. I would read the news religiously but then I would also read Harry Potter. Today I read the news and chase it with A People's History of the United States. I'm self defeating. I don't give myself a chance for naive happiness. Well now I'm sounding like a martyr, which I don't mean to. I don't think me wallowing in this puddle of worldly woe is going to make anything better. Honestly, I don't think I'll ever have the power to change the world. I'm neither rich nor charismatic enough.

I miss my kingdom of escape. The Magic Kingdom to be exact. I grew up with Disney World. I know it's every nook and cranny. I can quote the introduction to the Haunted Mansion. Nothing feels more like home than the chlorinated smell of Pirates of the Caribbean and the cool breeze on the WED Way People Mover. And now, going to Florida, I'm choosing a trip to Islands of Adventure to visit the Magical World of Harry Potter, over Disney. I feel as if I'm betraying my best friend.

Maybe this love of rides and fancy magic tricks is unhealthy. I don't think it is. Is it wrong to relive my childhood that I may strive to maintain the same wide eyed awe I held for the world then? This place where I can where funny hats, take pictures with large mice, and spend time with my parents, is my last bastion against adulthood, that sour state that spoils all of the fun.

I am a product of my generation, a twenty-something child, feet flailing to find footing in this black and white world. I don't understand why I have to "grow-up". I refuse to do so. I am determined to be happy and if that means ignoring what the baby boomers say I'm suppose to do, then so be it!