Who am I? Part 2

I love to travel. I've attended school on 3 different continents, lived on 4 and visted 5 - the only continents I haven't hit yet are Australia and Antarctica

During my final year of college, I started to become fascinated by real estate. Not the buying and flipping, make money aspect of real estate but probably more placemaking. How generations ago grandiose buildings might have been constructed by the people of that time but today, they may be wasting away for whatever reason. How could things like that come to pass? What would the original builders think if they saw their legacy today? This was probably a result of growing up in the epitome of America's Rust Belt city (I won't name it because I'm trying to be as vague as possible but it's not that difficult to guess). I read a book "Rise of the Creative Class" by Richard Florida which I remember had a big impact on me at the time. I don't remember the details today but the premise was that a place can breed and attract creativity - specifically, creative people yearned to be in interesting urban centers rather than the post WW2 suburban sprawl that spread throughout the US. Long story short, my senior thesis project during my final semester of college was on the revitalization of aforementioned Rust Belt city through redevelopment of real estate. More than any classes, I enjoyed working on that thesis the most and it's been a nagging unfinished thought in my subconscious ever since.

After college, I had a job offer lined up with a Big 4 Public Accounting firm in the U.S "Second City". I put off starting there for 8 months - reference Part 1 to see how enthusiastic I am/was about the prospect of accounting. I guess I never really had a plan for what I was going to do during that time but moved back home and was promptly kicked out by my Dad within the week. I suppose I should write about family dynamics but that's for another day.

I got kicked out on my 22nd birthday. Found a rooming house (not quite sure what to call it, type of place where people stay that just got out of prison or for whatever reason are down on their luck...kind of like me) to stay in while I figured things out. I remember that Christmas Eve distinctly. I went to a small diner late at night and had a burger at the counter. I had $20 in my pocket. There were 2 other guys at the diner that looked down and out. I didn't talk to them but I gave the $20 to the old lady at the counter and said pay for their meals. I don't know why that memory is seared in my mind - it's almost like a painting. The energy of the moment and the people around, the way I felt, the old lady's demeanor. I don't really have words to describe it other than the place and the moment had huaca. It was sad, painful, beautiful and hopeful all at the same time