“The Buses of My Dreams”

 

I will never avoid the bus ride.

It often occurs to me that my life revolves around bus rides.  Whether it’s around the Las Vegas on a tourist trolley sitting next to a half-open window in the desert heat, Santa Monica’s Big Blue Bus that transports college students to the municipal airport and back, or the Route 3 Torrance Transit that brings me to the city library there’s always some sub-journey every time I board that takes me not only where I’d like to go but also where I have to be.

It forces me to think.  And when I am forced to think I am thinking about the mental buses, the ones that do not ride on asphalt.  These are the buses of my dreams.  They travel toward journeys to be fulfilled or to be merely passed along the way.  The buses are powered by the desire to follow each one but stopped by traffic lights at every intersection, some ordering the buses to stop and other times to go.  Warning lights often pass my way as well, telling me whether or not the roads ahead will be slippery, full of falling rocks or winding curves, or divided by an upcoming fork or freeway onramp.

And so is my journey on the bus.  With every new route come more signs, more stoplights, and more forks and onramps that will take me where I have to be.  I choose to take another course to get to the same destination but for me, it is the ride that I look forward to.  New sights to see, new sounds to hear, new smells to sniff, new people to observe and talk with, people that have separated themselves from their normal worlds to embark on a short journey on the bus that will take them where they need to be.  They join me for the trips in between but I am in for the long ride.

As I sit in the stands watching others reach their goals while I am still standing at the starting line cursing my unwanted fate, I often wish I could get off the bus but I know that if I do, I will be sidetracked indefinitely.  As I said before, I am in for the ride, in the front seat feeling every bump and jolt, every pothole, every sudden stop and slow, but accelerating start.

I imagine myself at home or in a bookstore typing or sleeping but instead I decided to punish myself and stay here for the summer for more than a school day with nothing more than a backpack, a cell phone, and a prayer.  I am not riding the bus of my dreams; I am riding the expressway of my nightmares.

I cannot let myself submit to the sadness, shame, and depression that this place has given me.  I must ignore my feelings and drift away.  The feelings that I am alone here, the only student that I know here, and here I must remain with only text and my own imagination to guide me.  I know that everything I have done has added up to something, but I believe I have been looking too close and avoiding the giant puzzle forming before me.  But why does my road to completion begin with the feeling of incompletion?

           The long ride leaves you lonely and no matter how many people you meet on this bus route, you are guaranteed to be alone most of the time.  I have the gift of being able to adjust to new surroundings very quickly.  Fortunately I have not lost my sanity and sense of direction yet, so there is some hope for me to that extent.  I am in an uphill battle but it is one that I will win.