I'm working at the hotel room in Lima preparing tomorrow's training presentation. The television is on so I'm able to listen to the Yankees game (playing against the Phillies) in the background. Wraps of snacks and candy, empty water bottles and pieces of paper with our notes are scattered all over the bedroom. One of the things that I enjoy when I travel for work is having cable TV in my room. I don't have a TV set at home, and every hotel (even the shittiest) in Latin America has one. Last night I watched Fight Club for the first time in a very long time. The last time I watched it I was probably 24, when living a "single-serving" ordinary life seemed against all odds. It's funny to see how much things have changed, and how in a way I have become the character that asks which color better describes her as a person. Even when I'm not buying every piece of furniture from the Ikea catalogue, I can see how a part of me starts to feel comfortable without asking the tough questions. Still, I have to admit that there is a part of me that gets excited to the idea of throwing all I own outside the window and reinvent myself from emptiness. "I want you to hit me as hard as you can." Only with a purpose, and if it can help you feel alive.