Living in a bottle

  Today I'm in a nice little coffee shop in Philadelphia, called the Spruce street espresso. After a slightly wild week, I'v decided to give myself a day of rest. Last Friday night I was in Chicago, where I got drunk at a bar and somehow made it across town on my own to my host's home in the freezing cold. The reason I find this impressive, is because, earlier that day, I got lost in that same area, when I was sober. And yet, I somehow made two bus transfers and walked eight blocks back. The next night was spent on a train to Washington DC. In DC I saw three smithsonian museums, and most of the monuments in one day. 

   My travels are lacking in purpose and adventure. I'm sick of being an irresponsible young man, that runs around getting drunk in random cities. I was hoping that this trip to the east coast, would be an opportunity for me to reflect, and plan a life cores that would encompass the characteristics and ideals, that I so desperately want and need. My life is an empty sheet of paper, ready for me to write what ever story I want. And this is not it. I want to feed hungry children in Ethiopia, play soccer with orphans in Nicaragua, and help stop sexual slavery in the U.S.A. I want to be faced with life and death situations. I want to someday be that old man in a coffee shop, that talks to confused young men (such as myself), and helps to reshape there life believes. Maybe I need to temporarily remove myself from the temptation of partying every night. Maybe I'm living like this because I'm hiding, or perhaps even running away from the responsibility that I'v placed on my self, to be the most adventurous and selfless person I can be. 

  In any case. I'll be in New York city tomorrow night, where I will most likely get drunk and forget about all this until the next time I reflect on my life and feel guilty.