10 taxi cab rides

I sit in an empty living room, surrounded by my backpack, my trusty orange suitcase and my purse. Anxiously, I peer out the window behind me every five minutes. There's nothing worse than waiting for a cab at 6am to take you to the airport. Well, almost nothing. The bittersweet time has finally come, and this is the last leg of my journey around the world.

Last night, while conversing with a poet, I confessed that I was nervous about returning home. When he inquired why, I was unable to give him an answer. I'm not sure why I'm nervous. I'm excited too. It's funny, when I began this trip, I felt the same way. And a poet told me that excitement and nervousness were the same emotion with two different names.

I guess it's the knowledge that I'm starting, yet again, a new chapter in my life. I don't know where I'm going or when, or if I'll settle down someplace. My plans last until next sunday. Planning 1 week in advance: yeah, that sounds about right.

This trip ended much earlier than I anticipated, and that aspect makes me a bit sad. There were so many more places I wanted to see: more people, more poetry. But things never work out like we plan them to, and that's always meant to happen.

I have so many memories, and have met so many incredible people. Not a day went by this year when I didn't at least once reflect on the privilege of this journey. Even through the rough times: the fact that I felt stranded and isolated in a foreign country was a gift in itself.

I've learned so much about myself, too. No offense to previous Bristol fellows, or the fellowship itself, but I'm starting to think that's the real point of this whole journey. To find the world, but really to find yourself. It's so trite, in a way, but at the same time, so necessary. In a world full of video games, high speed internet, 24/7 in demand entertainment, it's necessary to pick up passionate and brave people and plop them in an uncomfortable situation. How passionate and brave are you now, eh?

I didn't know how this project would shape up, or if it would turn into something bigger. I know now, for sure, that it will. Over drinks on thursday night, during a heated discussion about page vs stage poetry, a poet referred to me as "possibly the most knowledgeable person of spoken word in the world". What a weird thought. But then again, no one *has* ever done what I've done, the way I've done it. And suddenly, I no longer feel like an outsider, observing the spoken word scene from a stand-off, third party standpoint. Suddenly, not only am I qualified to speak about my opinions on the scene, I have a responsibility to do so. So much can come out of what I've learned, who I've met. I owe the global spoken word community so much.

10 taxi cabs. I have taken 10 taxi cab rides to the airport. And every time, without fail, they always ask me if I'm going home.
Today, finally, I can say yes.