This time last year what was I doing?
I was flipping out over an essay on John Rawls and his...something I can't remember but it was supposed to be a great tool for making decisions. The veil of unconsciousness (?): basically an alternate world where we cannot know how large our own noses are and therefore we would not pick a law or rule that would favor those with large noses because what if we didn't have large noses ourselves? That wouldn't be fair.
I would read through that essay but I'm petrified of confronting it. It's much easier to read through old blog posts. But easy isn't really the word for it. It's almost masochistic.
This time last year I think I was sitting in the HMC library telling myself that I would never go to graduate school and that I had no discipline for academia.
I was also anxiously waiting to go to Ellen's birthday party to meet everyone else. I got a taxi there with Olivia and we were super early. Way early. And I wore a jacket I wasn't comfortable in. It was an all around uncomfortable event that probably wouldn't have been if I wasn't already desperately behind in my work.
Ellen, bless her heart, invited me to her birthday party again this year. It was a little cruel but really the nicest gesture. It might have brought me as much pleasure as the first time she invited me but in a different way. Then I was elated that someone was reaching out to me for sheer kindness. That my social life was about to get enriched. Now it's a flood of sad warmth. A fond memory of awkwardly drinking a beer in a jacket I didn't feel confident in and someone striking up a conversation with an American pop culture reference that I understood. Bless James Kanimba's heart, too. I had finally started to feel comfortable when it was about time for me and Olivia to leave; she had work, too. Plus I'd promised that if she paid for the cab there I'd pay for the cab back.
Well all week I've been in this mind set. I feel a little distant from the University of Indianapolis sometimes. From the student body. From the classes and residence halls. But I think I've started to find my place here again.
And I'm still a terrible academic. Here I've spent twenty minutes writing in a blog I haven't touched since July 28th, 2009 and I've got an essay due in three hours and an honors project that needs much attention. It's good and well and coming together and it's not as terrible as I had anticipated but it requires time, which I'm good at whittling away with little conversations and cups of coffee and reading through old notebooks about Western Europe.
I don't even have all my books for class yet and it's been a week.
Friday, January 15, 2010
Friday, July 31, 2009
Also Late, but From O'Hare
July 28, 2009.
It’s 3:45 pm…Chicago time! HaHa! I’m at O’Hare. Do you remember me telling you how much I hate O’Hare? Well I still hate it. Concourse G but Gates every other letter. Why, O’Hare? Why?
I’m sitting at the Chili’s in the airport and there’s a huge table right next to me and I just heard the woman tell the waitress “Oh! We’ve been out of the country for two weeks and it’s like, ‘Oh! A drink with ice!’” I just laughed out loud. You know the kind where it’s just basically a sharp breath forced through the nose and someone might mistake it for a bit of a cough or sneeze.
I ordered a coke. I couldn’t wait till Steak n’ Shake tonight. It’d keep me up all night and my jet lag would be unbearable. And I got a basket of nachos with ranch and salsa. And I’ll pay with dollars. Excuse me, Dollar$. But these chips are way too salty. And there are way too many.
So 3 hours and 15 minutes.
But! I will say this about security coming INto O’Here as opposed to going OUTof O’Hare. The guy standing behind the carry on scanner belt thing talked guitars with me. He plays the bass too. Reminds you that sometime people don’t lose their souls when they get a job.
I just thought about how nice the waitress was to me and the huge table who’s back in the country after two weeks and oh yeeeaaaah…Tips! It reminds me of something Lydia used to say: “I love being served.” To which I replied, “Unless it’s in a dance off, in which case, I like to do the serving.”
Oh yeah. Tax. Forgot about that too.
So I pulled out the coin purse that Sheena gave me over a year ago. It’s held my American monies for 7 months. It really does smell a certain way. It smelled very strongly of long, green, skinny paper. With little 1's written in the corners. One dollar bills. And a fist full of coins that will probably piss the waitress off. 3 dollars worth of quarters, nickels, dimes, and pennies in the form of 26 coins. Quarters instead of 20 cent pieces. No funky two pence pieces. There are 50 cent pieces around but not like the 50p or 50 centime piece.
And the silly weirdness of it all hits me. I poured all the American money I have on me onto the table and counted it out one coin at a time. With a weird and satisfied grin on my face. I am weird and satisfied.
And the waitress picked up the 26 coins and 6 one dollar bills and calls back, “Sending me to Las Vegas?!” For a second I had no clue what she was talking about and then I heard all those coins clink into her cash belt.
Haha. I told you. American waiters Hate that stuff. I can’t hide how much that pleased me.
It’s 3:45 pm…Chicago time! HaHa! I’m at O’Hare. Do you remember me telling you how much I hate O’Hare? Well I still hate it. Concourse G but Gates every other letter. Why, O’Hare? Why?
I’m sitting at the Chili’s in the airport and there’s a huge table right next to me and I just heard the woman tell the waitress “Oh! We’ve been out of the country for two weeks and it’s like, ‘Oh! A drink with ice!’” I just laughed out loud. You know the kind where it’s just basically a sharp breath forced through the nose and someone might mistake it for a bit of a cough or sneeze.
I ordered a coke. I couldn’t wait till Steak n’ Shake tonight. It’d keep me up all night and my jet lag would be unbearable. And I got a basket of nachos with ranch and salsa. And I’ll pay with dollars. Excuse me, Dollar$. But these chips are way too salty. And there are way too many.
So 3 hours and 15 minutes.
But! I will say this about security coming INto O’Here as opposed to going OUTof O’Hare. The guy standing behind the carry on scanner belt thing talked guitars with me. He plays the bass too. Reminds you that sometime people don’t lose their souls when they get a job.
I just thought about how nice the waitress was to me and the huge table who’s back in the country after two weeks and oh yeeeaaaah…Tips! It reminds me of something Lydia used to say: “I love being served.” To which I replied, “Unless it’s in a dance off, in which case, I like to do the serving.”
Oh yeah. Tax. Forgot about that too.
So I pulled out the coin purse that Sheena gave me over a year ago. It’s held my American monies for 7 months. It really does smell a certain way. It smelled very strongly of long, green, skinny paper. With little 1's written in the corners. One dollar bills. And a fist full of coins that will probably piss the waitress off. 3 dollars worth of quarters, nickels, dimes, and pennies in the form of 26 coins. Quarters instead of 20 cent pieces. No funky two pence pieces. There are 50 cent pieces around but not like the 50p or 50 centime piece.
And the silly weirdness of it all hits me. I poured all the American money I have on me onto the table and counted it out one coin at a time. With a weird and satisfied grin on my face. I am weird and satisfied.
And the waitress picked up the 26 coins and 6 one dollar bills and calls back, “Sending me to Las Vegas?!” For a second I had no clue what she was talking about and then I heard all those coins clink into her cash belt.
Haha. I told you. American waiters Hate that stuff. I can’t hide how much that pleased me.
A Bit Late Posting but Here Is The Morning I Left London
July 28, 2009
10 hours. It’s 3:15 pm London time.
I had a thought that nothing would be weird at all. That it’s perfectly natural to be gone for 7 months. Like it happens all the time to everyone and lives don’t change. Things are the same. The people are the same. The time difference is irrelevant. There’s no new music, just music you started listening to because a friend said, “Hey, have you ever heard of Paolo Nutini? He’s really good. Listen, I love this line… ‘You said you’d marry me if I was 23 but I’m one that you can’t see if I’m only 18.’ I don’t know how he can have a voice like that, all rough and almost reggae is but with a Scottish accent.”
I woke up early this morning, about 7:15 am. I had plenty of time to organize my things and wash my hair. I didn’t feel anything while having breakfast this morning. Riding the tube out to Heathrow Terminal 5 was just like any other tube ride in London. I listened to my ipod. I had my luggage. I was traveling. There was no trouble finding where I needed to be. I didn’t wander around lost and pressed for time. I had plenty of time. I found my gate with absolutely no trouble. Everyone was pleasant and helpful. I had a big bagel with smoked salmon and capers and an iced mocha. I mean, there’s nothing strange about being in the airport. The flight is uneventful. I’ve been watching episodes of Peep Show, which is a British comedy about two flat mates. It’s kind of an alternative and very modern version of the Odd Couple. And you can hear their thoughts.
They served us Chicken Tuscana and coffee and what not.
It’s um. It’s a little like I’ve not been traveling for 7 months. I don’t know if that’s true, though. I mean, I might have already had my moment of painful realization when I was in Oxford yesterday hanging out with James Kanimba.
We traded music for about 4 hours then went to Hassan’s Van for chips and chicken curry. Then we watched some of his John Mayer DVD and I cried a bit of that terribly sad and somewhat panicked kind of crying all over James’ shoulder.
And that was pretty much that. So we’ll see.
10 hours. It’s 3:15 pm London time.
I had a thought that nothing would be weird at all. That it’s perfectly natural to be gone for 7 months. Like it happens all the time to everyone and lives don’t change. Things are the same. The people are the same. The time difference is irrelevant. There’s no new music, just music you started listening to because a friend said, “Hey, have you ever heard of Paolo Nutini? He’s really good. Listen, I love this line… ‘You said you’d marry me if I was 23 but I’m one that you can’t see if I’m only 18.’ I don’t know how he can have a voice like that, all rough and almost reggae is but with a Scottish accent.”
I woke up early this morning, about 7:15 am. I had plenty of time to organize my things and wash my hair. I didn’t feel anything while having breakfast this morning. Riding the tube out to Heathrow Terminal 5 was just like any other tube ride in London. I listened to my ipod. I had my luggage. I was traveling. There was no trouble finding where I needed to be. I didn’t wander around lost and pressed for time. I had plenty of time. I found my gate with absolutely no trouble. Everyone was pleasant and helpful. I had a big bagel with smoked salmon and capers and an iced mocha. I mean, there’s nothing strange about being in the airport. The flight is uneventful. I’ve been watching episodes of Peep Show, which is a British comedy about two flat mates. It’s kind of an alternative and very modern version of the Odd Couple. And you can hear their thoughts.
They served us Chicken Tuscana and coffee and what not.
It’s um. It’s a little like I’ve not been traveling for 7 months. I don’t know if that’s true, though. I mean, I might have already had my moment of painful realization when I was in Oxford yesterday hanging out with James Kanimba.
We traded music for about 4 hours then went to Hassan’s Van for chips and chicken curry. Then we watched some of his John Mayer DVD and I cried a bit of that terribly sad and somewhat panicked kind of crying all over James’ shoulder.
And that was pretty much that. So we’ll see.
Monday, July 27, 2009
The British Museum Is Pretty Righteous
I'm on the Oxford Tube to Oxford! Ahh, this reminds me of the day I arrived oh so long ago. I only had about 25% battery life. I've got 90% right now, so I'm under no pressure.
I could live in England. I think London is the only big city I've been to that doesn't feel...ugh, you know? It feels like a big city. It is. It's got it's own attitude but the attitude isn't obnoxious. It's expensive though.
I got to see things these past 2 days in London that I didn't the last couple times I was here. My friend Alex from Manchester came down to visit me and we went out to Hammersmith where my hostel is and we had a few pints and some dinner. I'd never been to Hammersmith before. That's in West London. So yesterday morning we met up at Trafalgar Square. My 3rd time being there but I really enjoy it. The lions. The 4th Plinth. Apparently they change what's on the 4th Plinth every 6 months or year or so. These 6 months they've been doing live performance theatre. When I got there there was a guy with a big sign that said "GIVE ME A JOB" and hanging from the plinth was a huge sheet that was his resume. It was pretty clever.
We then wandered our way to the British Museum which was cool. Really Really cool. I mean the Rosetta stone. Mummies left and right. Rooms full of mummified people and cats and birds and fish? Yeah, fish too. Jewelery from Tibet. Hats from Cameroon.
We saw an Easter Island statue man!
Cuneiform, Hieroglyphics, Traditional Chinese, Ancient Greek. I remember doing a project in 6th grade when we were studying Mesopotamia and I took clay and my dad and I spread it out on wax paper to make it look like a stone slab and we looked up Cuneiform online and picked some words and he gave me a flat head screwdriver and I pressed into this clay some real Cuneiform words, as well as a bunch of random marks.
That was 10 years ago and I still remember all these little details about it.
So it was pretty cool.
Alex even made me a mix CD cuz I'd told him how all my friend made them for me before I left. There are just some nice people out there. And I've met a lot of 'em.
PS. 1 day 9 hours.
I could live in England. I think London is the only big city I've been to that doesn't feel...ugh, you know? It feels like a big city. It is. It's got it's own attitude but the attitude isn't obnoxious. It's expensive though.
I got to see things these past 2 days in London that I didn't the last couple times I was here. My friend Alex from Manchester came down to visit me and we went out to Hammersmith where my hostel is and we had a few pints and some dinner. I'd never been to Hammersmith before. That's in West London. So yesterday morning we met up at Trafalgar Square. My 3rd time being there but I really enjoy it. The lions. The 4th Plinth. Apparently they change what's on the 4th Plinth every 6 months or year or so. These 6 months they've been doing live performance theatre. When I got there there was a guy with a big sign that said "GIVE ME A JOB" and hanging from the plinth was a huge sheet that was his resume. It was pretty clever.
We then wandered our way to the British Museum which was cool. Really Really cool. I mean the Rosetta stone. Mummies left and right. Rooms full of mummified people and cats and birds and fish? Yeah, fish too. Jewelery from Tibet. Hats from Cameroon.
We saw an Easter Island statue man!
Cuneiform, Hieroglyphics, Traditional Chinese, Ancient Greek. I remember doing a project in 6th grade when we were studying Mesopotamia and I took clay and my dad and I spread it out on wax paper to make it look like a stone slab and we looked up Cuneiform online and picked some words and he gave me a flat head screwdriver and I pressed into this clay some real Cuneiform words, as well as a bunch of random marks.
That was 10 years ago and I still remember all these little details about it.
So it was pretty cool.
Alex even made me a mix CD cuz I'd told him how all my friend made them for me before I left. There are just some nice people out there. And I've met a lot of 'em.
PS. 1 day 9 hours.
Listen To Your Elders
Ok, things are getting serious. I have 1 day 14 hours.
It's almost 11 a.m. in London and it's raining. I couldn't imagine a better Monday. Honestly. I've been aching for some cool weather and the rain. I was talking to my friend James Kanimba the other day before I got to England and he said, "Maybe if you're lucky it'll rain." But I am lucky. and it is raining. It's 59 degrees and I'm wearing jeans. I'm wearing a sweater. I'm wearing my scarf. These clothes feel good.
I have a couple little stories I'd love to send your way. Here's one of the more recent ones.
I was in Paris right before getting on the train for London on Saturday and I sat at the little restaurant there at the Gare du Nord station and a little old couple came and asked if they could sit with me because there were no other free tables. I of course was delighted for them to join me and I asked if they were on holiday. The gentleman told me that "When you're our age, you don't need to take a holiday. It's all holiday, just in a different place." Here are some things I fould out about Harold and Christine. Harold and Christine Pooley just celebrated their Diamond Anniversary. (That's 60 years if you're not familiar with the scale). Harold and Christine have travled all over the world together. He's crazy about steam trains and they have taken steam trains all over the UK, the US, Eastern Europe, Russian, and they've traveled all over Asia and Europe together. Harold is 88. Christine is 83. Harold flew planes during World War II and did training in Canada. He was warned not to fly over Niagra Falls because the US wasn't involved at the time.
Harold and Chrstine almost crossed pathes twice before finally finding eachother. Harold was 8 and living in South London and Christine was 3 and living in North London and they both got Scarlet Fever at the same time and were taken to the same hospital in Central London. They were both in quarentine and remember the smell. Years later when Christine was finishing school and Harold was in the service, she lived in a house that had a back garden that touched the edge of the base he was training at. Finally Chrstine finished school, the war was almost over, and she got a job at an insurance company. Harold had worked there for a year before he joined the Army and when all was said and done he came back to work at the firm Chrstine was now working for.
The rest is an absolute dream. They received a framed photograph of the Queen in the mail for making it to their diamond wedding anniversary.
I told them about Joshua and me and how we've been married for almost two years. They said, "Only another 58 to go!" I said maybe we'll move to England so we can get a photo of the queen too. I told them Josh and I have big plans for traveling together. They said, "Wonderful! You're young! You have your whole lives ahead of you. You have so much time to be together and enjoy it that these 3 years apart will seem like nothing."
We chatted a bit more about this and that. About the statue of Crazy Horse, about Old Faithful, about the steam engine train in Colorado. They said, "Oh, we hope we haven't bored you here, talking so much." I assured them, no it was more than wonderful to have chatted with them. We began to finish our drinks and pay the waitress and Christine touched me on the arm and said, "Sarah, we hope you and your husband are as happy as we've been lucky enough to be for the past 60 years, traveling together and all."
I told her this was one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to us.
They have successfully lived our dream. They have lived the kind of life Joshua and I talk about every time we speak to eachother. All the places we want to go. All the funny things we can't wait to do together. We always talk about what we're going to be like when we're 60 and 70 and 80 and we always say we'll still be going places and discovering new things and meeting new people and listening to new music and still living. Together. It's not an impossible thing. Harold and Chrstine are doing it right now. I was so moved by them and their encouragment. By their delight in eachother and their stories and their attitudes and their blessing for Joshua and me. Everyone has warm wishes for us. They all mean so much. Harold and Christine had the kind of warm wishes that are specific to a couple who has just celebrated their diamond anniversary.
There was so much beauty in this encounter that it made me let go of an ugly encounter I'd had about a week prior.
To make a long story short, a few of us had decided to go to our favorite "Irish" pub in Aix for a drink and we sat next to these two guys, one from England named Jason who was in his 30's or 40's, married, and a helicoptor scientist. The other guy's name was Stan. Also in his 30's or so and from Australia. Stan was loud, rude, obnoxious, drunk, and obscene. Some inappropriate conversation was brought up by Stan and I said, "Excuse me, I am married and rather uncomfortable with this conversation. I think we should change the subject."
Stan then wanted to get into a political debate about Iraq but not until asking me, "Will it last? Tell me, is it going to last?" in reference to our marriage. I could barely get two words out about our relationship before he moved on to the subject of Iraq. "They're dying! They're dying over there!" I looked him straight in the face and said "You're telling ME they're dying? You are. Telling. Me?" I was so offended and angered by his audacity that I said, "I'm leaving. No, I'm leaving," stood up in tears, and left. I was angry for days.
Joshua said I'd done the right thing, to just get up and leave because people like that cannot even be reckoned with. There's no point in trying to talk to people like that. And he's right. There are people like Harold and Christine in the world.
Before we left the station, Christine told Harold to push up his glasses, they were slipping down his nose. He leand in and said, "Huh?" She smiled and pushed them up gently for him. He grinned a little sheepishly.
I can't wait to push up Joshua's glasses for him when he can't hear me tell him they're slipping.
It's almost 11 a.m. in London and it's raining. I couldn't imagine a better Monday. Honestly. I've been aching for some cool weather and the rain. I was talking to my friend James Kanimba the other day before I got to England and he said, "Maybe if you're lucky it'll rain." But I am lucky. and it is raining. It's 59 degrees and I'm wearing jeans. I'm wearing a sweater. I'm wearing my scarf. These clothes feel good.
I have a couple little stories I'd love to send your way. Here's one of the more recent ones.
I was in Paris right before getting on the train for London on Saturday and I sat at the little restaurant there at the Gare du Nord station and a little old couple came and asked if they could sit with me because there were no other free tables. I of course was delighted for them to join me and I asked if they were on holiday. The gentleman told me that "When you're our age, you don't need to take a holiday. It's all holiday, just in a different place." Here are some things I fould out about Harold and Christine. Harold and Christine Pooley just celebrated their Diamond Anniversary. (That's 60 years if you're not familiar with the scale). Harold and Christine have travled all over the world together. He's crazy about steam trains and they have taken steam trains all over the UK, the US, Eastern Europe, Russian, and they've traveled all over Asia and Europe together. Harold is 88. Christine is 83. Harold flew planes during World War II and did training in Canada. He was warned not to fly over Niagra Falls because the US wasn't involved at the time.
Harold and Chrstine almost crossed pathes twice before finally finding eachother. Harold was 8 and living in South London and Christine was 3 and living in North London and they both got Scarlet Fever at the same time and were taken to the same hospital in Central London. They were both in quarentine and remember the smell. Years later when Christine was finishing school and Harold was in the service, she lived in a house that had a back garden that touched the edge of the base he was training at. Finally Chrstine finished school, the war was almost over, and she got a job at an insurance company. Harold had worked there for a year before he joined the Army and when all was said and done he came back to work at the firm Chrstine was now working for.
The rest is an absolute dream. They received a framed photograph of the Queen in the mail for making it to their diamond wedding anniversary.
I told them about Joshua and me and how we've been married for almost two years. They said, "Only another 58 to go!" I said maybe we'll move to England so we can get a photo of the queen too. I told them Josh and I have big plans for traveling together. They said, "Wonderful! You're young! You have your whole lives ahead of you. You have so much time to be together and enjoy it that these 3 years apart will seem like nothing."
We chatted a bit more about this and that. About the statue of Crazy Horse, about Old Faithful, about the steam engine train in Colorado. They said, "Oh, we hope we haven't bored you here, talking so much." I assured them, no it was more than wonderful to have chatted with them. We began to finish our drinks and pay the waitress and Christine touched me on the arm and said, "Sarah, we hope you and your husband are as happy as we've been lucky enough to be for the past 60 years, traveling together and all."
I told her this was one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to us.
They have successfully lived our dream. They have lived the kind of life Joshua and I talk about every time we speak to eachother. All the places we want to go. All the funny things we can't wait to do together. We always talk about what we're going to be like when we're 60 and 70 and 80 and we always say we'll still be going places and discovering new things and meeting new people and listening to new music and still living. Together. It's not an impossible thing. Harold and Chrstine are doing it right now. I was so moved by them and their encouragment. By their delight in eachother and their stories and their attitudes and their blessing for Joshua and me. Everyone has warm wishes for us. They all mean so much. Harold and Christine had the kind of warm wishes that are specific to a couple who has just celebrated their diamond anniversary.
There was so much beauty in this encounter that it made me let go of an ugly encounter I'd had about a week prior.
To make a long story short, a few of us had decided to go to our favorite "Irish" pub in Aix for a drink and we sat next to these two guys, one from England named Jason who was in his 30's or 40's, married, and a helicoptor scientist. The other guy's name was Stan. Also in his 30's or so and from Australia. Stan was loud, rude, obnoxious, drunk, and obscene. Some inappropriate conversation was brought up by Stan and I said, "Excuse me, I am married and rather uncomfortable with this conversation. I think we should change the subject."
Stan then wanted to get into a political debate about Iraq but not until asking me, "Will it last? Tell me, is it going to last?" in reference to our marriage. I could barely get two words out about our relationship before he moved on to the subject of Iraq. "They're dying! They're dying over there!" I looked him straight in the face and said "You're telling ME they're dying? You are. Telling. Me?" I was so offended and angered by his audacity that I said, "I'm leaving. No, I'm leaving," stood up in tears, and left. I was angry for days.
Joshua said I'd done the right thing, to just get up and leave because people like that cannot even be reckoned with. There's no point in trying to talk to people like that. And he's right. There are people like Harold and Christine in the world.
Before we left the station, Christine told Harold to push up his glasses, they were slipping down his nose. He leand in and said, "Huh?" She smiled and pushed them up gently for him. He grinned a little sheepishly.
I can't wait to push up Joshua's glasses for him when he can't hear me tell him they're slipping.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Good Bye Aix
July 25th 2009. 10:50 a.m. French time. Provence time. Aix TGV time. The past few days there has been one French word that I can’t stop saying. It’s the only word that comes to mind when I think of anything. When I think of this. Incroyable. C’est incroyable. Maybe there’s another word. Bizarre. C’est bizarre. It’s not just because my vocabulary is severely limited, worse than a 4 year old, but it’s because this really is incredible.
I was talking to my mother on Skype the other day and I was telling her about all the fun cool things I did that day and the day before and she said, “Well it sounds like you’re having a good time!” Yes, despite what I’ve been writing in my blog, I’ve been having an incredible time.
I’m on the train to Paris. I have to change stations in Paris, which I’m a little bit dreading, and then I take the train to London. How bizarre is that. Pretty delightfully bizarre.
This morning was sad. Not only did Vero have to drop me off at the station, she also has to drop Millie, the cat, off at the airport. Millie is going to The States to stay with Bruno’s parents while they go on vacation. Millie is terrified of her little travel box and cars and planes. She’s made this journey before and was meowing continuously. Poor cat. She even was sticking her little paws through the door to try and touch you.
I have a beautiful idea of family. Giving someone a meal at the table with people you may have blood relations to or people who you let come to your home for 6 weeks. Helping someone mix the salad or stir the vegetables. Taking someone to the train station so that they don’t have to go alone. Sharing a cup of coffee. I was absolutely pampered at 14/14b Rue du Puits Neuf. I’ve been absolutely taken care of in Europe.
My family has always tried to feed everyone who walks through the front door, especially those who come through the back door. A little something to eat goes a long way. It can calm you down, get you ready, ease a headache, and as cheesy as it sounds, comfort your spirit. It’s just a bit of kindness that is unparalleled.
Today Vero walked to the bakery to buy some bread to make me a ham and cheese sandwich but she also bought a sweet bread that’s crunchy, flakey, and shaped like a heart. I was touched. She also gave me an orange soda.
I have 3 days 14 hours 41 minutes until this journey is completed. Three and a half days. What is this life? I couldn’t even tell you. I went to bed late and woke up early. I think I slept for 4 hours last night. Maybe a bit longer.
My emotions are absolutely volatile right now and have been for a week or longer. Probably will be for another week or more.
I was talking to my mother on Skype the other day and I was telling her about all the fun cool things I did that day and the day before and she said, “Well it sounds like you’re having a good time!” Yes, despite what I’ve been writing in my blog, I’ve been having an incredible time.
I’m on the train to Paris. I have to change stations in Paris, which I’m a little bit dreading, and then I take the train to London. How bizarre is that. Pretty delightfully bizarre.
This morning was sad. Not only did Vero have to drop me off at the station, she also has to drop Millie, the cat, off at the airport. Millie is going to The States to stay with Bruno’s parents while they go on vacation. Millie is terrified of her little travel box and cars and planes. She’s made this journey before and was meowing continuously. Poor cat. She even was sticking her little paws through the door to try and touch you.
I have a beautiful idea of family. Giving someone a meal at the table with people you may have blood relations to or people who you let come to your home for 6 weeks. Helping someone mix the salad or stir the vegetables. Taking someone to the train station so that they don’t have to go alone. Sharing a cup of coffee. I was absolutely pampered at 14/14b Rue du Puits Neuf. I’ve been absolutely taken care of in Europe.
My family has always tried to feed everyone who walks through the front door, especially those who come through the back door. A little something to eat goes a long way. It can calm you down, get you ready, ease a headache, and as cheesy as it sounds, comfort your spirit. It’s just a bit of kindness that is unparalleled.
Today Vero walked to the bakery to buy some bread to make me a ham and cheese sandwich but she also bought a sweet bread that’s crunchy, flakey, and shaped like a heart. I was touched. She also gave me an orange soda.
I have 3 days 14 hours 41 minutes until this journey is completed. Three and a half days. What is this life? I couldn’t even tell you. I went to bed late and woke up early. I think I slept for 4 hours last night. Maybe a bit longer.
My emotions are absolutely volatile right now and have been for a week or longer. Probably will be for another week or more.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
5 Days 22 Hours
But honestly.
I'm freaking out. I'm having severe mood swings. I'm not Hulking out or anything. I just get overwhelmingly happy and after half a day I'm borderline depressed. I go from being comfortable with the people around me to being unbearably awkward. So awkward I have to just leave.
I've spent most of these last posts not describing Aix or little stories about the people here or the things that happen. I've mostly been writing about the internal things. And most of the posts say basically the same thing "I don't know how to handle this."
I mean, I'm handling it. I'm loving it. It's hurting. It's good for me. There's something to be said for feeling this kind of ache, I just don't know what it is yet.
I'm freaking out. I'm having severe mood swings. I'm not Hulking out or anything. I just get overwhelmingly happy and after half a day I'm borderline depressed. I go from being comfortable with the people around me to being unbearably awkward. So awkward I have to just leave.
I've spent most of these last posts not describing Aix or little stories about the people here or the things that happen. I've mostly been writing about the internal things. And most of the posts say basically the same thing "I don't know how to handle this."
I mean, I'm handling it. I'm loving it. It's hurting. It's good for me. There's something to be said for feeling this kind of ache, I just don't know what it is yet.
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