Calling myself a writer at only this stage in my life seems a little narcissistic (which I definitely am), but I do like the idea of being a storyteller.
With so many distractions, a word that has become instantaneously synonymous with life, it’s hard to pick out certain stories without having a time and place to decipher and dictate them. I’d love to say that I go to fancy Instagram-worthy cafes to eloquently subscribe my thoughts every morning, but that would grant me a liar and monetarily irresponsible, which I also definitely am (hint: no storyteller isn’t), but the terms ‘exaggerator’ and ‘student’ are a little more suiting.
In consideration of the fact that I cannot afford a plane ticket every day to write in my favorite liminal which is in the state of flying, I settle for my heavily red-underlined word vomit on my long hours of commutes with 10% battery life of the notes app in my iPhone on airplane mode.
Public thresholds like airports, bus stops, seaports, and borders get me creatively turned on; they are my nowheres and everywheres. There is a euphoria in not belonging, in not having a label or a constant GPS location on at all times. I often fantasize whether my mother bore me in the air over international waters because I can’t stay in one place too long and don’t want to be hashtagged into a single narrative depending on man-made borders. It’s just the feeling of being in a space that amplifies a confined zone yet keeps moving. Now, what better way to be off the grid than to go under it? The subway forces me to disconnect from the busy streets so I can I find my airplane mode in my local WiFiless transit.
Words come easier when there is no location to tie me down. I hope you find your version of airplane mode and let it engulf your creative tones.
Upcoming: I’m going to be traveling to Ottawa next week to visit my sister. It’s going to be my first time going to another Canadian city besides Toronto!!