Every new beginning comes from some other beginnings end, yeah ! ‑Semisonic, Closing Time
That was the last karaōke song sang prior to my escape from Chicago, which I got a 95⁄100 score on. Yes, I’ve the beautiful singing voice of an angel. And Chicago being my last beginning’s end, North Carolina was the new one. My fam relocated here in 2013, and dropped hints to pack up and flee the broke, corrupt, violent and evil city. My dad, who is Korean American was a man of few words and simply told me ‘Get out of there there’s nothing for you there’ lol. Don’t hold back now.
Thus after my initial vacay in July 2019, I successfully relocated in August. On Friday, Aug 31st, 2019 I left the city at approximately 6:30 am. Would of left earlier hadn’t it been for my upstairs neighbor who wanted my space age mattress. A nubian princess named Paris. Of course being a hero I had to assist a single black mom working hard for the money.
I drive like a bat out of hell. It’s a weird feeling, this. Like going on a extended vacay and never coming back. I was overcome with all kinds of thoughts and sensations. The fact there would be no more winters (not real ones) was one. I didn’t realize how badly I’d miss Chicago pizza. They don’t know what legit pizza even tastes like here in this entire state. I do miss Chicago driving, even if there were lots of crazies on the road. The people here drive like student drivers, zero driving intuition and courtesies. My itinerary was simple :
- Chi to Indianapolis : 3.2 hrs
- Indianapolis : rest 1 hr
- Indianapolis to Lexington : 2 hrs
- Overnight at Ramada inn
- Lexington to Asheville, NC : 3.2 hrs
- overnight in crown royal plaza
- Asheville to Chapel Hill : 3.2 hrs
Never been to Indianapolis before, never had any reason to. At most I’d go to the phony beach of Beverly Shores in the Dunes. Every nature place in the midwest has become a sad, pitiable joke to me. Most people back there would burn with envy at me now. And the crazy beautiful here, the gorgeous hiking trails and access to mountains or the sea. This place feels like a cross between Virgin River and Dawson’s creek, with maybe a little Lord of the Rings thrown in the mix.
Thus I’ve begun this journey of journaling, a habit carried throughout my entire life. Usually a private affair, a secret habit and passion. Not born of narcissism, though. While that part is certainly true, there’s always those who think otherwise. No no no, narcissism is having Instagram. Having an entire town worth of strangers stalking you. Desperate for updates and fresh content. Even though they knew your fake existence was exactly this : unsustainable. What it was instead was a keepsake, a time capsule I could look back upon. The phantom limb of my cute soul.