Because of-.

So, my feet hate me. Like hate me. If my feet had individual hearts, theirs would be pounding with thoughts of murder and anarchy. But, as they say, Mind over matter. Let's be real: my feet didn't hurt that badly that I needed to stay in bed the rest of the day. I wanted to go to Philly and I wanted to visit the MoMA.

Besides, I was enduring self-chosen punishment for poor footwear.

Cute shoes do not a comfortable walk make.

Seriously, though- adorable shoes, and more durable than I expected! 

Do you know how to use a mirror? What's it for? 

A couple weeks before today I'd written this blog post where I wrote, "The funny thing about reflections is that what is reflected depends entirely on the angle from which you view it." 

Whenever I watched 'What Not to Wear' I completely empathized with those who had to go into the 360 mirror. Holy-. 

"Is that what I looked like while talking to him?!"  

Well, yes.

And no.

Should I approach a mirror I might straighten my posture, brush aside a curly strand of hair from my forehead, double check my complexion; etc. But that's my facing the mirror directly. If I stood on top of the mirror, or if it was directly overhead, or shaped like the Bean (Cloud Gate) in Chicago. Would I like what I see? 

Because to see something I don't expect could be daunting.

Have you walked into the 'Infinity Mirror Room'? (I haven't, but I'm told it's surreal.)

Because it starts out like this,

and ends up,

Does anyone really know how large this room is? What do you mean I can't walk further out?

Mirrors offer a great place of illusion. (I'd say delusion, but I'm not psychologist.)

Two days ago was not my first time in Philadelphia. Yesterday was not my first time in NYC. A few scattered weeks ago was not my first time in the Greater Scranton-Wilkes Barre area. Last January and December was not my first time in the Philippines, or China for that matter. I visit Niagara Falls and Toronto often enough, I'm surprised I haven't made a rut in the ground...but that would be why I pay tolls. 

It could be because I am sentimental that traveling is surreal to me. 

When I look around places where I have been, I recall what I did there. I, in the future (so to speak), recall what my past self (so to speak) was doing. I think of who I was, and who I am now, and am generally shattered by emotional, mental and physical (no, I still haven't got a six pack) transformations that I hadn't see growing below the surface. 

I had looked in mirrors and reflections seeing no change--I mean, save my pixie cut--hating the immobility of my life and person. "Why haven't I changed?" I'd croon.

But like watching paint dry and seeds break free of dirt, I did change, just change that was out of my control. 

(Always out of my control, aren't you, God?) 

No, I didn't exactly look like that when talking to him, but I did. 

As far as I am aware, I haven't undergone plastic surgery, so I look like the 23-year-old version of my 5-year-old version. I have some things about myself that I don't like (who. the hell. doesn't?). But if a reflection is dependent upon the angle from which you view it, I don't have his eyes. What he sees is going to be different from what I see. 

It just is.

Passers-by aren't going to know that I my feet are killing me because I don't act like my feet are killing me. I haven't told anyone. Haven't put it on a poster-board asking for donations for new shoes (FWP, much?) because scaling the MoMA's walls, and wandering around Philadelphia's Center City meant more to me than my pain...ish. 

Ha, I did mention it once or twice to a few people, but I still ran up Rocky's steps :D

Because outside Center City and the MoMA are homeless men and women and children who don't directly benefit from my touristy monies. 

Like this BuzzFeed: New York on Instagram vs. New York in Real Life. Neither is an entirely tru depiction of New York- it's not that bad, and it's DEFINITELY not that good, but why should that matter? Just let it be. Enjoy all the angles from which you can view these places, and those that send a shiver down your spine- maybe that's a call for you to do something about it. Because a reflection depends not just from the angle, but also he or she who views it. 





My sentiment is daily breached when I move from one place to another. I miss certain places not generally because of the place, but because of the people that were there with me. I mean, now every time I listen to Ed Sheeran's "I See Fire" I am transported back to the Philippines (I can even smell it). How's that? Because I listened to it 165+ times on repeat while I was there.

Suffice to say, I could do without ever seeing Scranton again, but one of my best friends lives there. And there, I made better friends.

Because some years ago visiting this place, I had different intentions, and was with different people. Some of those intentions have evolved, and some people have left.  I should not exchange any of these experiences for the world because it somehow brought me where I am today, despite not really having gone anywhere.

Or, it could be that I am psychotic.

Either way, I am not who I was. Because of travel. Because of people. Because of situation. Because of little to no money. Because of everything that catches my eye. Because life.

That's so cool.

How could it be that every day is the same, but I engage retrospect and everything's changed?

Well, now to attempt a couple poems.