Need some excitement?

There I was, squashed amid the puffiness of two men and their bubble jackets, and my own layers underneath my coat and hat. It wasn't a surprisingly crowded train, as it was rush hour the morning after the biggest blizzard we've had all Winter long. It had been a lazy Monday, one I'd vowed to enjoy to the fullest if schools would indeed be canceled because of the upcoming snow storm and then it was back to life as it was meant to be in New York City...crowded, busy, and silently noisy.

In the meantime, I wanted to laugh at the acquirement of my seat at such a busy time. I recklessly fought for it against a blue-eyed blond girl wearing a sleeping bag as coat. I wanted to chuckle as I, from time to time, would look up at her and would find her doing an owl search to see who would be the next person to get up and then back down and catch me staring at her, it was then when I would want to burst into a huge laughter and point at her while saying "I am the vinner!" Indeed woman.

I wasn't like that. I still remember when I would offer my chair to people when I was 18 and polite.

"DO YOU FEEL THAT YOU NEED MORE EXCITEMENT IN YOUR LIFE?!!" an infomercial voice invaded my head. I looked around, and looked at the people, the girl had stopped searching and was sound blank (there's such a thing) with the white headphones stuck in her ears. People read, people looked at the advertisement in the train, people looked at their papers, people looked blank, and the Asians slept. It's true, " I do" I responded.

When I was eighteen, it occurred to me that Manhattan life wasn't for my soul. That first semester at Borough of Manhattan C.C. was as bad as bad could be, and people were...different. People seemed to be indifferent and ipods weren't even all out yet. Oh, there were walkman and soon I acquired one myself to avoid the silence I encountered at crowded places like BMCC or the train. There was an addiction to listening to something constant.

By late November, I wanted to leave because I'd figured that I was meant to be a vagabond. I was meant to move aimlessly from country to country trying to find I don't know what, excitement maybe? I wanted to live at the poorest places and near beaches...would start my way in Brazil and explore Latin America. My idea was to write what not only I, but what people in these places felt at all times. Make a recollection and tell the World. I didn't know exactly what that meant, but I was looking for something that could be meaningful for these people I would encounter in these places. I had, more than energy (as I still have that energy), faith in what one solid person could do for humanity that would mean some kind of caring change.

I was more than likely very socially aware and sitting on the train going back and forth like a puppet wasn't cutting it for me. I did want a thrill too...Oh, I longed to do what I hadn't done! Go against the norms! Fight the system and be my motto.

"Need some excitement?"

There I was sitting in the train, with these people wanting to say that I was the "vinner." And my thoughts drifted away from that encounter and into the science of my apparent war. I may've lost that fight, and won this one, but the war isn't over.

I never forget that the thought of winning is my major excitement.