Oh, the places I go.

I'm a Lost junkie. I am slacking on viewing this season, but I cannot watch a single minute without being hypnotized. Watching an old episode I missed in season five yesterday afternoon with a fellow Lost-ite almost resulted in my missing the bus back from the Big Apple to Philadelphia.

Whenever I talk about this to people who don't like [read: don't have enough good taste or mental capacity to appreciate the epic brilliance which is this series] Lost, they always say "It makes no sense." I can understand this sentiment. It is quite a lot to swallow. I think each episode only allows you to blink possibly three times, or else you've already missed too much and will no longer be able to follow the story line.

I promise this tangent has a point.

Yes, I did make my bus yesterday, with thoughts of Lost floating through my mind. Lest you forget, public transportation often results in an odd array of individuals combined together in small quarters. It so happened I was across from a fiesty and naive girl named Raquel by the age of nine [Yes, I eavesdropped. In my defense, she was obnoxiously loud]. A half asleep, half awake bus ride later, the combination of Raquel's innocent youthful musings and my thoughts of Lost had my head in quite a jumble. One issue people seem to bring up with Lost is the whole "time travel" thing Whatever, I know it's crazy but anything goes on the Lost Island. This whole moving through time thing is where I began getting confused on my ride home.

I thought about my time before the time I am now in. I kept thinking about how much I despised taking naps in preschool. Nowadays, I wish I could nap more often. I wish Lost wasn't merely fictional, and I could travel back in time and tell myself to stop being so stupid and just count some sheep and make nap time work somehow. I wish I had told Raquel, as annoying and countereffective to my bus ride nap as she was, I was happy she wasn't jaded. Many other kids her age are. I should have told her dad he was doing a great job but I felt like a bit of a creep. I hope they're as happy as they seemed.

I wonder when you reach they age where you realize everything your mother told you was true, helpful, pertinent, and wise. Yesterday I was stressed because one of my interviews was postponed, the other only went decently, and housing in NYC is so frustrating and foreign to me. She just said [not in these terms] "Caroline, you gotta hustle for ya want." It's true. I guess it's silly but it instantly made me feel better. No one told me life was going to be easy, and I didn't go into a competitive field thinking anything would be handed to me. Good things will come, they'll happen. By complaining in the mean time I only am annoying myself and everyone around me and achieving absolutely nothing. In reality, I'm wasting time I could be spending chasing after all the things I so badly desire.

We all want "it" so bad. Everyone's "it" is different, and changes. But how is it fair for me to want things when I take no steps closer toward them?

Thanks, mom. Maybe I'm almost at the age when you can say you told me so ♥

So many directions to go in.

Oh, the places you'll go.

Wise man, Mister Dr. Suess.

Lini ♥ you.