The Void

A winter Sunday night in Philadelphia is quite impersonal. To anyone vaguely familiar with the city knows of the steady bombardment from the homeless and drunks begging for change and cigarettes. Requests are deflected are done with such efficiency that can only be gained by years of relentless panhandlers bankrupting my generosity. It is the same routine of shaking the head and waving a hand as I make my way to Suburban Station. Pigeons and bodies cocooned in flannel lie scattered down the corridor leading to the train platforms. After a short wait sitting on a metal bench inside an icebox, the familiar prerecorded voice informs me that the R6 will arrive to take me home once more. Only then can I relax, knowing that in 20-minutes time, I’ll be home again with Colleen and our two absurd cats.

I stared out the window to the rooftops of empty cars in a decaying lot and I couldn’t help but feel utterly content. It could have been that warm feeling from packing down a few pints just a few moments ago, but I’d like to believe it was simply seeing a good friend I rarely have time to visit (Happy birthday Mr. McMillan). When afforded the opportunity, I will talk at great lengths about art, design, music and many esoteric fascinations I may have picked up along the way. Tonight I did just that, and with welcoming company. Jimmy and Christine sat my through long-winded ramblings about the assignments that ail me and the projects that nearly killed me (for which I am extremely grateful). The entire time, the voice of a new friend played in a loop, “Travis, you’re so intense!” Sitting on the train, I couldn’t help but smirk at the realization of what she meant.

It became transparent to me tonight that I invest a great deal of myself into everything that I do. So much so that the arduous work of design can be taxing on the mind as well as the soul. But this is the only way I know how to exist. In the past few years my creative ambitions had slipped into a deep coma, leaving me a shell of who I really am. Now, I feel as if I am on the verge of rediscovering that spark that could reignite an unbridled appreciation of life. Even if I deny it, that intensity is what drives me forward.

In a cold dark city and its faceless streets, life is meaningless. Then again, nothing really means anything. But rather than feeling like life is empty, our experiences allow us to fill in the void with emotions and memories. Subjectivity is a beautiful thing. This is where I stand. An empty blog that’s waiting to be filled. So, welcome to a self-serving blog of the ramblings thoughts and obsessions of a graphic design student. Enjoy.