I got off at Motivation Station today. A stop I hadn’t seen in a very long time. It was as if it temporarily disappeared from my route, taken from me, and swallowed by my routine. This “adult life” is full of check lists and emails. It’s leaving for work at the same time and riding that same train to make it to the office by 9am amongst the rest of New York City as quietly as humanly possible. We get cozy up against strangers, crowding onto a train, enduring space violation, as we hold our breaths for those few stops. Remarkably, this is considered having your “shit together” and yet, I’ve never felt so messy. I’m curious as to whether the man next to me, dressed cleanly in a suit, is as happy as I am that both our arms are pinned to our sides as the train pulls away praying the long frizzy hair of another woman doesn’t tangle us all in a knot. We do have to get off this train –although sometimes I welcome the anxiety generated from deciding my best escape plan as I find myself slowly inching opposite the exit doors with each passing stop closer to mine. It reassures me there’s still room for the unpredictable. However, I’m reluctant to report, I’m nothing but a measly fugitive making it to work on time. Not today, I think my train broke down at the Motivation Station and for the first time I’m embracing its inefficiency. Excuse me while I use my phone to answer this wake up call.