True Freedom and Pasta

My one overarching goal in life is to have enough money to buy an Olympic size swimming pool full of spaghetti and meatballs. Until I’m able to afford this, I have but one secondary overarching goal: to become the epitome of a minimalist-nomad-hippie. I obviously haven’t achieved this yet, but I’ve been working on and obsessing about it since I was approximately ten years old.

Throughout my childhood my family traveled hither and thither across Europe, and hung out in the former USSR for a quick minute. As with any adventure, after it’s over with, it all seems quite glamorous and thrilling even if there were many times you were afraid and unsure. Time has a wonderful way of making you forget the pallid moments while letting through the ruddy memories just enough to hook you into yet another adventure. I assume this happens with childbirth as well, because I’m not sure why people keep doing that.

One of the overly glossed memories that has stuck with me happened on a holiday through Paris, France. On this particular trip, my family and I stayed in a youth hostel with a kitchen shared by all the occupants. We had just arrived in the city that same day and it was all my parents could do to drum up some sort of food to quiet me and my siblings’ hostile, hangry, cries. As happens on adventures, nothing was going to plan and there were drunk European college students EVERYWHERE. Naturally, nearly twenty college students making spaghetti is bound to get a little messy. Spaghetti sauce here, noodles left pilled in the sink: my parents were annoyed, but I, I was in awe.

I was in awe because it was the very first time I had looked at true freedom square in its alluring face.  These hormonally charged young adults had it all. They didn’t care what anyone thought- they left noodles in the sink, they didn’t clean the pots and pans, and they had such reckless abandon! Ever since that moment, nigh on fourteen years ago, I’ve been chasing the dragon. Every time someone offers to make spaghetti, I think, this is finally the time. I’ll be the careless co-ed that is completely, confirmedly part of a community. Unfortunately, I probably will never catch this dragon, because dragons aren’t real.

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