(no subject)
The other day, I spilled milk on my carpet and went to get the Woolite carpet cleaner. I started to get misty eyed; Steven had bought it for me, and it reminded me of something he once did for me.
Yesterday, I pulled an unlabelled CD out of the holder in my car and found that it was the one I listened to nearly every day in Morocco as I walked from the language school to the cybercafe under the blazing North African sun. I would frequently see brush fires that started spontaneously as I listened to Janet Jackson and Floetry. I remember being on the roof of the Ajanas' house singing the version of "Oh Happy Day" from Sister Act 2, trying to give myself some comfort. One night, Ibrahim, Simohamed, Mhamed, and my wife (I can't even remember her name now) and I were walking along the main street in Fez's New City. We sat down to rest for a minute as Simohamed and Mhamed went to get sandwiches, and I started crying hysterically. Ibrahim told me that he wanted me to sing "Oh Happy Day," but of course I wouldn't.
Memories like these ones keep coming to me, and I keep trying to use them to make sense out of my life, and to try to gain some understanding of who I am and what I have become. I still have no idea. What did I learn from the two and a half months on a different continent? That my problems weren't just limited to my physical location; they followed me across an ocean. In other words, I'll never be able to escape them.
What do I do about Jeffrey and Mathew? I pretty much decided that my friendships with them are over, if they ever existed in the first place. When I tell people about Mathew, all I can do is list all of the negative qualities about him. I don't think that they can help me grow as a person, which I suppose is important. What can I learn from them, other than the fact that alcohol is a great tool to use to run away from one's problems? I stopped visiting and calling them at least three weeks ago, and of course, neither of them has attempted to contact me. At the same time, I just remembered why I was friends with them: they've both provided me with a tremendous amount of emotional support at various times, just like Steven did.
Sometimes, I see the scars, and I think that they're all I am.
Yesterday, I pulled an unlabelled CD out of the holder in my car and found that it was the one I listened to nearly every day in Morocco as I walked from the language school to the cybercafe under the blazing North African sun. I would frequently see brush fires that started spontaneously as I listened to Janet Jackson and Floetry. I remember being on the roof of the Ajanas' house singing the version of "Oh Happy Day" from Sister Act 2, trying to give myself some comfort. One night, Ibrahim, Simohamed, Mhamed, and my wife (I can't even remember her name now) and I were walking along the main street in Fez's New City. We sat down to rest for a minute as Simohamed and Mhamed went to get sandwiches, and I started crying hysterically. Ibrahim told me that he wanted me to sing "Oh Happy Day," but of course I wouldn't.
Memories like these ones keep coming to me, and I keep trying to use them to make sense out of my life, and to try to gain some understanding of who I am and what I have become. I still have no idea. What did I learn from the two and a half months on a different continent? That my problems weren't just limited to my physical location; they followed me across an ocean. In other words, I'll never be able to escape them.
What do I do about Jeffrey and Mathew? I pretty much decided that my friendships with them are over, if they ever existed in the first place. When I tell people about Mathew, all I can do is list all of the negative qualities about him. I don't think that they can help me grow as a person, which I suppose is important. What can I learn from them, other than the fact that alcohol is a great tool to use to run away from one's problems? I stopped visiting and calling them at least three weeks ago, and of course, neither of them has attempted to contact me. At the same time, I just remembered why I was friends with them: they've both provided me with a tremendous amount of emotional support at various times, just like Steven did.
Sometimes, I see the scars, and I think that they're all I am.