You know what my favorite part about flying is? The takeoffs and landings. I love that feeling I get when the air pressure rises and my stomach drops. The thrill of knowing that you're being taken to another place, no matter how far away it is from your original departure destination. Every time the plane begins to speed faster and faster, my eyes can never shift away from the window even when the aircraft starts to shake and the noise around me starts to clog up my ears so badly that I can feel them about to burst.

Every time I fly to or back from LA, the first thing I always look forward to is the view from the top. When I arrive in the late hours of the night, I must say...there is no sight more bright and beautiful to me as the lights of los angeles. This sounds odd considering LA is also thought of as a wasteland of pollution and all around disgust, but that view from the top always makes me reconsider.

As I made my trip back to the east coast today, part of me got upset when I found out my seat on the plane. 25C, an aisle seat. No matter what, I usually always book a window seat so I can get that feeling that I always look forward to when we takeoff. However, I didn't get a choice this time (fuck you STA travel). As the plane conducted its usual routine, I noticed the woman who had the window seat in my row pulled the shade down. I panicked for a moment, knowing this was the last time I was going to be able to experience this for half a year. I didn't know what to do, should I ask her to put it back up? Should I just suck it up and let her go to sleep? Thankfully, she pushed the shade towards the sky at the very last moment and I was able to absorb the sight of the pacific ocean for one last time. Soon after, I felt my body take over and slowly drifted off to slumber.

I am currently back in Amherst and I must say, I am glad to be here again. When the plane started to land, I peaked my head towards the window again and saw endless miles of green. I couldn't help but smile to myself knowing that I was back "home." It's funny when your real life becomes your old life and your new life becomes your real life. I always considered the life I lead here in Amherst my "new life." Now, there is no old or new. As a good friend said to me once, "from now on it's just life and life only."