I'm on my second large cup of jasmine tea.
I am up in the Texas Connection. The top floor hallway between Bostock and Perkins, where I can look out one side and see the sunset over the trees and look out the other and see neo-Gothic architecture, slightly pink-tinted. I think I'll take more pictures of the campus, especially when I come back and the gardens will be in bloom.
But sometimes I miss California so bad. It's like something is not quite right here--I'm not sure whether it's the lack of a beach, or the less than perfect weather, or the fact that not everyone is skinny and wearing designer jeans. It's something less superficial than that...je ne sais pas, mais c'est possible que quelque chose n'est pas bon. (I like to think that my French is getting better.) It's like there is a part of me not that misses home, that exact location, but that misses California.
All I want to do when I am home is have it be summer--no matter how hard I remember, my first memories of home are always those of sunny days and beaches. Those lazy, neverending stretches of sunlight called summer days. On the beach when the wind is warm and dry and you only leave to get mexican food or Girard Gourmet.
I miss the expanses of freeways and the brown cliffs ending in water and the palm trees. I miss something I can't put my finger on, something I'm not even sure I liked that much when I was at home. And don't get me wrong, I'm not homesick. I don't want to be living at home right now.
"California is such a sad place, really--a state where children run away from parents, a state of pale beer, and young old women, and divorced husbands living alone in condos."
But sometimes I miss California so bad. It's like something is not quite right here--I'm not sure whether it's the lack of a beach, or the less than perfect weather, or the fact that not everyone is skinny and wearing designer jeans. It's something less superficial than that...je ne sais pas, mais c'est possible que quelque chose n'est pas bon. (I like to think that my French is getting better.) It's like there is a part of me not that misses home, that exact location, but that misses California.
All I want to do when I am home is have it be summer--no matter how hard I remember, my first memories of home are always those of sunny days and beaches. Those lazy, neverending stretches of sunlight called summer days. On the beach when the wind is warm and dry and you only leave to get mexican food or Girard Gourmet.
I miss the expanses of freeways and the brown cliffs ending in water and the palm trees. I miss something I can't put my finger on, something I'm not even sure I liked that much when I was at home. And don't get me wrong, I'm not homesick. I don't want to be living at home right now.
"California is such a sad place, really--a state where children run away from parents, a state of pale beer, and young old women, and divorced husbands living alone in condos."