I’m lost.
Well those two words sound awfully familiar – emphasis on the awful. I’ve said that phrase more than any one person (who’s only 21) should ever have to. Any of my friends or family can attest to this fact, especially the ones I call for guidance through the unfamiliar streets of the Bronx, passing Albany on I-90 or the whilst in shallow wooded area behind my house… really. Getting lost is something I’ve accepted as a personal flaw, an inevitable part of daily life. And while I’m not one to recognize a flaw and then just let it be, the harder I try to stay on route, the farther I accidentally stray.
I already know what you’re thinking and let me stop you there because my mom has said it a zillion times, seriously. I have tried the GPS thing, three of them to be exact, they strand me in the middle of no where and then have a meltdown and stop working – I don’t trust those evil things. Mapquest? If you don’t know this is the worst tool ever you must also not know what a computer is. And traditional maps and things of that nature are nearly impossible to handle while driving. There’s just no helping me.
Through all these excuses, I’ve found that I might just be rooting for all of this stuff not to work. I want to be able to say ‘I got from A to B without any help.’ But it seems that day will never come, unless of course ‘A’ is my house and ‘B’ is the grocery store up the street.
But that won’t discourage me from taking trips as I always do, with complete and utter reckless abandon. I can’t help but think meticulous planning and preparation would only hinder the uncharted and unrehearsed nature of the journey that makes it so exciting. I love the freedom and independence I get from driving a couple hundred miles by myself.
Even if that means the no-longer-dreaded phrase comes up somewhere along the way.
I’m lost.
Voyager 