"How is it possible to feel nostalgia for a place I've never known?"
This is a line (roughly) from the movie Motorcycle Diaries. It struck me hard when I saw a segment last year. I feel nostalgic all the time for no apparent reason and no apparent place or time.
I often miss the days of my childhood. I was well cared for and naive about the world. I grew up on a rural farm with more animals than friends. It was a good youth. I often wish to be twelve again. Or eight.
Most of the time, especially in March, I miss
Other times I simply feel nostalgic for nothing that I can pinpoint. I feel lonely and neglected and I feel that I'm missing something important.
As I prepare to go to
Again, I ask myself if it is just selfishness. Do I simply want to be somewhere, anywhere that is not here? Why is it that I miss
People think they know me, they say "you're young, things will change in time." They may be right, but it doesn't change the fact that I feel this now. School is a prison for me. Instead of filling my mind with useful information, it fills me with dread and even repulsion. I feel so restrained.
Writing is my only outlet while incarcerated. And writing is something I don't do very much of lately. With written words I can convey so much more than speaking. My fingers are more closely connected to my brain than my mouth. From my pen (read keys) flow my thoughts in perfect syntax. Or so I like to think.
But what does it matter that I write, or that perhaps I can do so well? What does it mean that I want to spend my life in travel and writing? That's not a career. Don't say journalism. I might glare, you don't want that.
So with absolutely no trepidation whatsoever, I prepare to take a jaunt across the pond to a poverty stricken country. I am fully prepared to think not once of Silt or of CCU. I'm also quite sure that I will selfishly hate my existence when I return three weeks later. I am nostalgic for a place I've never been.
Just like Che.