Tranquil Thoughts and Timid Treading

Tranquil Thoughts and Timid Tread

When and ability to travel knocked on my doorstep, it was something that I would be unable to refuse, no amount of classes or f would leave me high and furious  dry or tear me from a life goal that I had-ultimately-been planning since the beginning of my conception as a young adult. Money was something that my family didn't have the luxury of as a child. So my hopes of traveling to places where people walked with cows, where people jabbered excitedly in other languages, where cultures clashed and churned effortlessly was very slim. But that didn't change my desire to stand with those people let my frame of reference get torn from my hands to open my mind for explorations untold.

Languages, cultures, people always fascinated me. It twined seamlessly into my excitement for writing and my drive to create. So when I had the ability to choose--thanks to the wonderful staff at Maryville College--the opportunities started to unfold before my eyes, beckoning with their untouched pages and waiting stories; all they needed was a writer. Excitedly scanning over the pages of the ISEP book, I had circled many of the schools and decided that all of them would be worth my time as long as I could force myself to just choose one.

It wasn't until my desire to understand Indigenous Peoples and their culture came up that it had narrowed my search down for me. Again--maybe it might be a little less them, and a lot to do with my professors and my boyfriend, but lets toy with personification shall we--I was wrought with excitement, knowing that I had two choices withing my grasp: Canada and Australia. Canada had an interesting path that I wanted to delve deeper in, and Australia was as untouched as one could come, bulging with crazy critters and dangerous dingoes.

My final decision has left me anxiously awaiting my letter of placement somewhere in Canada, my first choice being Brock University, in St. Catharines Canada while my friends jump for joy with theirs in hand. It's only a matter of time, I feel it in my bones.

I, in turn, hope with my acceptance to Brock, that I gain the opportunity to work directly in the Indigenous population, and gain insight on the Indian Residential schools that plagued the Canadian people for many hears. I hope to meet new friends and gain a respect of the Canadian culture for what it is, outside of the Maple Syrup and Tim Hortons (but really, Tim Hortons is my addiction and I don't even live there). I want to understand other government standings, and regimes other than our own by experiencing a  parliament not learning about it. I want to eat all of the Canadian cuisine and learn to prepare it for when I come home. I want to have the opportunity to be comfortable within my own language, while having the ability to find a Provence and learn French just a small drive away. I want to feel independent. I want to learn myself. I want to fly.

With this I fear somewhat about the change in school size. Going from a school that has professors that know your name, and care for you, to a school that has maybe fifty thousand students does give a different overall emotional feel to the class. I worry that this may effect how I learn, but I am confident in my desire to pull and learn from the coming experiences that those large classes. I worry that choosing a place so close to home it won't exactly feel like I am going abroad, while at the same time I have a conflicting feeling about leaving home to be so far away. The jitters of taking that big leap without knowing what is on the other side is clinging at the pit of my stomach, ready to let go as soon as I make that step.

Excitement hit me the day I realized I get to go abroad, and it hasn't left me since. My constant planning will only further that buzzing feeling and tingles in my toes. Seeing my boyfriend with more frequency will always be on that list. Denying it is denying something that is such an paramount part of my life that I would also be lying to my-self. But with my bonner background, and my desire to work within the community drives my desire become a better person while--in the best scenario--help the community that I leave as well.

While I don't know what is heading my direction, I know that somewhere inside of me a little hedgehog huffs in excitement, ready for the world to com, ready to write the story, ready to claim those pages and publish that novel of my travels; for the world to see.

Are you ready?