Upon reading the title of my blog, "at twenty.two," you may think: Oh! She titled her blog that because she's twenty-two! Though this is partially true, I was actually inspired by Langston Hughes' poem "Theme for English B" in which he writes:
It is not easy to know what is true for you or me
at twenty-two, my age. But I guess I'm what
I feel and see and hear, Harlem, I hear you:
Hughes writes about the difficulty in knowing "what is true" especially at so young an age. He guesses who he is at this point in time by where he is from. Throughout the rest of his poem he hopes to revoke the idea that our identities are formed through context. We define ourselves by what we are not, like a binary opposition: black vs. white, day vs. night, etc. You can't define one without the other. Though people often figure out where their interests don't lie in order to find out where their interests do lie, we shouldn't only have to define ourselves by what we are not.
I am not a mathematician, I am not a singer, I am not a painter --this list does not establish an identity. It says who I am not rather than who I am. At my age, with my limited experience, I guess at who I am by what is true: I am a daughter, I am a reader, I am a writer. I know as I grow older I will be able to add to this list, and in doing so more truths will be established. For now, experiences abound through literature, through observation, and through Paris. The City of Lights is calling to me: and Paris, I hear you.
I possess that yearning curiosity that accompanies youth. In this past summer of my youth, I recently experienced the loss of a woman who had been a mother to me. I keep the memory of her close to me and I acquire a renewed vigor for a life satiated with feeling and fulfilling. I believe Paris will provide me with the courage and inspiration necessary to heal and to reestablish and discover who I am and who I long to become. Paris will give me courage to strengthen my independence as a young woman. I look to and admire Elaine Dundy and her recollection of her travels in Paris through Sally Jay, the heroine of her novel The Dud Avocado. This courage will enable me to make new friends, create new memories, and revive the inspiration to strengthen my skill as a writer, and hearten my passion for the art of putting pen to paper. There is a stirring of excitement I find when I recall Dundy’s poetic description of the Champs Elysees: “All at once I found myself standing there gazing down that enchanted Boulevard in the blue, blue evening. Here was all the gaiety, glory and sparkle I knew was going to be life if I could just grasp it.” I hope to experience that same warm rush of elation and wondrous vision not only when I see the Champs Elysees, but also when, for the first time, I behold the beauty of the city renowned for romance.
I hope to enrich my senses in Parisian culture. I imagine floating down the cobblestone to marvel at the city’s wonders. I want to see the Eiffel Tower on a snowy December eve; I want to feel its cool, strong iron beneath my fingertips and the soreness in my legs from having climbed to the top. I want to smell the crisp city air, which I imagine to smell of salt, smoke, and wind fragrant only in Paris. I want to hear the dreaminess of the language and become fluid in the movement of the city. I want to taste a croissant fresh from the oven, flaky, buttered, and warm. I hope to immerse myself in the rapture the city has to offer and, at the end of my journey, be able to take it home with me for Hemingway describes Paris as “a moveable feast.” Through my travels, I hope to be moved. I hope to be able to look at something and in it read a story, hear a song, or write a poem. My inspiration will in turn enhance my education in my pursuit to absorb all the culture and the enlightenment, which accompanies traveling. Writing through Paris will allow me to further fulfill my journey of self-discovery through reestablishing my love for reading and writing, and reawakening my aspirations of life in my time of loss.
