Rushing Freedoms

February 10, 2015- "For where does one run when he's already in the promised land?"

I was walking from my dorm on 3rd avenue and 11th street this afternoon before my writing class at 2:00 and my pop micro-econ quiz at 3:30 and my cultural foundations (or as my professor likes to call it "Shifting Cultural Geographies" class) at 4:55PM.

My day was long but my time was short.

I kept up the pace, my mind was rushing. I could feel. I could feel the chemicals in my brain swirling and synapsing to create my "healthy" self. I finally began to feel focused for the first time in weeks, and when I say weeks, i mean maybe 8 of those long moments in time.

I hit the corner at University Place, coming from the busy streets of Broadway but throwing myself into the homey-welcoming feeling that arises when nearing Washington Square Park. In my unchartered sense of rushing, I almost run into a man and his dog who is in front of a wooden restaurant column painted red with a base of black. The small white furred pet was merely looking down, sniffing out a place to pee.

I reach down to pet the dog and quickly relinquish my thought of appreciative or acknowledgeable touch towards the "pet". I kept up my pace and apologised to myself for stopping in the first place.

There's no promise land, I keep running, running to learn, running to reach my promise land.