“The result is a truly cosmopolitan experience—a North American city with a distinctly European charm and flair.”
This defines so many of my hopes for the future. Once more, I find myself in a dreaming state. My friends are back home for holiday and they inspire me without realizing the potential harm. Thank God for their not-knowing. Because what else are friends for?
It’s true that I’ll return to school next fall. To achieve that which I promised my parents’ I would. And what I promised myself. A bachelor’s degree. And I’ve finally figured out what subject to major in–photojournalism. Finally. A focus. A goal is set. And I’ll be attending one of Washington’s finest universities, a place I never thought I’d go due to financial limitations. I’m so thankful for parents who passionately care about my future and happiness.
So now, as I wait, I continue to daydream. Of all the things that will happen before I start school and skipping to the end, foreseeing what I hope will happen afterward. The list of things Pre-Education include: 1) working at Eastside Dog, 2) selling more paintings on eBay, 3) establishing a cliental photography business, and 4) making more money in any legal shape or form I can. Post-Education: 1) Travel.
But here’s the funny thing.
I never found anyone to use my Canadian WestJet airline credit. When I finally thought I had, something quite bad happened and prevented it once more. Nothing to cry over, but I can certainly whine.
Therefore. I refuse to watch $500 go screaming down the crapper. No no. Maybe someone else can watch their hard-earned American money wash away, but not me.
Leah leaves for Lithuania in January. Ryan goes to Romania in March. Travis is already in Poland. For pete’s sake! Michelle is traveling to the States!
I’m not letting this opportunity go by.
For the last nine (or so) months, I have avoided any possible thought of visiting Canada. Because I don’t want to visit Canada. I want my $500 back. But if that’s not possible, than perhaps it’s not (dare I say it?) in God’s mighty plan that I get it back. Perhaps what I thought was a mistake in life (buying the ticket) is actually a minor fluke. Quickly remedied.
I’ll take the trip.
Three nights ago, for the first time, I searched online for possible places to visit. First on my list? But Ottawa of course. The land where mighty Jets do roam. Since we’ve been friends, he has tried time over time to convince me that Ottawa is “the place to be.” Overflowing with culture and environmental diversity, he may as well referred to it as the “heaven on earth,” because that’s how he made it sound. However, strong-willed, I did not heed what he had to say. A simple nod and “Uh-huh, Jetchick,” is all the response I’d give. Because just about everyone brags about the place they live. I certainly love Seattle and think it’s perfect in many ways. Why should John be any different?
Well. I don’t know much, but I’ve seen the pictures and I’ve read the articles, and I’ve discovered something rather remarkable–Ottawa appears quite lovely. To tell you the perfect and honest truth, this caught me completely off guard.
I have a fake uncle. Uncle Dick. A man who isn’t a sibling to either of my parents but who is so wickedly cool, it’s only right that I add “Uncle” to his name. Originally, he is from Quebec. He grew up there and moved to the States when he turned 12 years old. He has since forgotten his native French Canadian language, but says, “It comes back to me whenever I go to visit.” And he visits often. He’ll be at my parents’ house tomorrow morning and he will strongly effect my decision on whether or not Ottawa is the place I’ll visit.
Believe it or not, despite my darting around the subject, I’ve really opened my heart up here. Comparitively. The fact is that I’m taking a minibreak sometime (and soon) and it’ll be somewhere in Canada and I’ll be going alone and many will have complaints about it all. Because I am apparently rash and naive and ignorant and foolish and have absolutely no clue as to what I’m doing. And I say that all in pride.