Boston

Oooh yeah, Boston. I am here. Finally.

My closest friends and roommates know that being in Boston has been my dream for years. Have I ever even visited before? Nope. Why the attraction? Honestly? I have no idea. I somehow got it in my head when I was a freshman in college that Boston was the perfect place for me. There were opportunities to keep studying and working in engineering while still getting in the music scene, which sounded beautiful. And then I had a dream... one of those super intensely vividly real dreams. Yes, it deserved all of those adverbs. I was a little older, just getting home from work (don't ask me what my job was, I guess it wasn't important), putting a key in the door of what was obviously my apartment. I opened the door, and it was the most amazing living space I'd ever seen (although in my dream it wasn't anything special, it just seemed normal). The kitchen was off to the left, the living room was straight ahead, and the bedroom through a door on the right. The walls in the living room were a light yellow, sort of a honeysuckle color. One wall was covered with amps, and there were instruments everywhere... There was a drum set in the corner, a keyboard to the side, an upright piano against the wall, and my violin and viola were up on their stands. I had two acoustic guitars and an acoustic bass on stands, a cello leaning in the other corner, and an electric guitar (semi-hollow) and an electric bass hanging on the wall. The wall directly across from the door was completely glass, an enormous window looking out at the Charles River.

Like I said, one of the most beautiful things I'd ever seen. Too bad it wasn't real. But Boston has still been a dream of mine.

But maybe it's because my life has somehow kind of followed this beautiful song by Augustana, also named Boston.

"I think I'll go to Boston, I think I'll start a new life. I think I'll start it over where no one knows my name."

Don't get me wrong, I love my friends, I love my home town, I love Utah. Then again, my brother tells me one of my biggest problems is loving everyone and everything. Oops. But even then, I don't know that I actually know who I am. And I feel like I have this unrealistic expectation that the more I run away to different places, to snow or summer, maybe I'll figure it out. But maybe I'll just get tired. Here's to all of us running around in circles, trying to find ourselves.

Oh, and did I go "out to Spain?" Last summer, Study Abroad. Oh yeah.