(no subject)
you come home, you come here
don't stay so far away from me
this weather has me wanting love more tangible
something i can hold; it's gettin' cold
So here we are. Sixteen weeks after my depart, on the eve (more or less) of my return. Sixteen weeks. When we consider that there are fifty two weeks in a year, sixteen suddenly seems a rather piddling number. But, for the most part, none of us are math or science majors, so let's face it--numbers are pretty much crap. At least for this instance, let's just accept that and move on. In the past sixteen weeks, things have changed. A lot more than they've changed in the fifty two that came before that, and possibly even in the fifty two that came before that.
Sixteen weeks in Europe, mostly Paris with a brief hop to Amsterdam, Madrid, and London, and occasionally the French countryside. What I am most impressed by is that it was sixteen weeks, uinterrupted in Europe--with my dad's flight priveledges, I really could've gone back to the US when I wanted. But I did not. I spent sixteen uninterrupted weeks in more or less the same place.
First off, I haven't done that in YEARS. Ever since I started dating Andrew the summer before senior year of high school, and excluding the, oh, month that Justus and I dated while still at UMass spring of 05, my boyfriends have always been far away. My dad has lived significantly distant from me since I was in sixth/seventh grade. My life, since the age of thirteen, has never been centralized in just one location for as long as sixteen weeks before. This was an entirely new sensation (even this summer, I lived in Yonkers for less than sixteen weeks, and even then I spent a good share of time shuffling back to Fairfield to work at CNC or tend to the other half of my life that was there--it was still an existence divided). I have found it not in the least bit disagreeable. I enjoy having one place that I can point to and say "that is home." It is not a question of "that is home on weekends and every other Thanksgiving and Christmas, alternating" while "over there is home on weekdays" and "over there is home on school breaks" etc. Apartment 15, 112 Avenue Ledru Rollin. That is home, 7 days a week.
It is strange. If, at this moment, you were to ask me where home is, that is what I would respond. I would say Paris. I've never had much love for Fairfield, so I've never identified as a Fairfielder. My formative years were divided between Fairfield and wherever my dad lived, anyways (largely Long Island, but I don't consider myself a Long Islander at all, although I had residence up until a little over a year ago). I've always loved New York City, but I've never lived there, so how can it be home? Amherst is great, but I think we can all see how it is that I'm not really a suburban (rural, if you ask me) Western MA type of person. In fact, my describing Amherst as rural probably removed at all doubts for anyone still on the fence. ;) I enjoyed the time I spent in Yonkers, but due to assorted brain fuckery going on with me this summer and also the very real expiration date on my residence there, I felt like a guest who was staying for three months. Paris... Paris is home. I know the metro like whoa, I'm a pro at the Noctilien when I need to be, I can walk anywhere, I have mastered the Parisienne frigidity--I can stop cab drivers trying to steal the right of way with a mere look! Ha ha! I dodge scooters like it's my job and I can drive off even the most determined street vendor. I've become accustomed to things here--the cafe culture, everything being closed on Sundays (and sometimes Mondays), the appropriate way to treat people... I feel comfortable here. Comfortable in ways I haven't felt anywhere in a long, long time.
A lot of this has sprung out of being here alone and largely cut off from everyone back in the US. I went through periods of extreme depression, terror, loneliness, etc, but I overcame it all, because, frankly, I didn't really have any other choice. I grew up. I become independent and self sufficient in ways never previously thought possible. I've always considered myself a fairly independent person, but this semester redefined that for me. I have fuckin' balls, kids, and I can think of very few people with balls that can measure up to mine. It takes hell of backbone to survive Paris, and hell of more of it to make Paris your home. It takes hell of backbone to do time abroad, and all of us here who have/are doing time abroad can agree to that one. There were times I wanted to run crying home and never turn, but I stuck it out, and I am a stronger and better person for it. If I got anything out of this semester, I got no small amount of self-respect. I learned a lot of French this semester, but I also learned that I am a fucking force to be reckoned with.
So don't you be trying to reckon, kiddo! ;)
So for all this, why am I so excited to go back States-side? Well, to put it tritely, "home is where the heart is." Paris is like one giant comfort blanket. I am so content with life here. But the things that really and truly matter to me are all back in the US--my family (both my parents + my dad's girlfriend are some of my best friends, and my sister is my fucking hero), my friends (in the NY/CT area, and at UMass), my cats, my car, etc... Despite everything I love about Paris, I am happy to give it all up to have these people (and animals, and Honda) back again. So I hope you guys feel fuckin' special, eh? :P But honestly, that is what has been missing the most this semester. I love my friends here, but nothing in the world compares to my friends back home.
Also, I miss the little things, like my big bed and comfy pillow, lattes in "to-go" cups and sizes as large as my head, videogames and television and movies, etc. On the flipside, I will miss my wonderful view out my window, the fantastic cafe creme on the terrace of a corner cafe, the advertising, and I will definitely miss being able to smoke indoors. I know, I shouldn't smoke anyways--but sometimes I do, and damn it's nice to be able to do it inside. ;) I will also miss Pink Elephant cigarettes. I hope I can find a substitute when I get back to the US. It seems like it would be some sort of defeat if I go back to smoking Camel Lights by default--the only reason I smoke Camel Lights is because those are the cigarettes I started smoking on, and I started smoking them because that's what Jeff Irion smoked. I feel like it would be symbolically something negative to go back to smoking those.
Speaking of men. My non-relationship with Julien this semester has been a learning experience. For all that you guys may think you know about us/him/me/whatever, particularly in regards to this past summer, Julien was one of the foundations of my life/sanity/happiness in the US. I seemed like I was in a bad state this past summer? He kept from being in a much worse state (for all that I was an ungrateful bitch about it ;D). However, we were a non-item this semester. We were not out of touch at all, but it was VERY different. He was no longer the support I could count on. This, obviously, hurt me very much (ha ha September, let us never speak of you again). However, I grew up a LOT because of that. My time in Paris, in this aspect, was exactly what I needed. I matured. I... I don't know. I'm running out of descriptive adjectives that aren't just stupid. But I've come a long way, and for all that I was hurt by him cutting me off, I never would've made it without him. And now, full circle, we are moving back toward each other, having both (mostly) worked out things that we couldn't've worked out with the other in our life (he still has some stuff left to figure, but he's doing great). He says he wants to give us another go. I'd be lying if I said I didn't still have (strong) feelings for him. When he's ready to give it a shot, I can't imagine myself saying no. He and I have both come very far this semester (and no, I don't really want to hear how you think he hasn't, because I assure you, I know him better than you do (that is an ambiguous you, not targeted at anyone) and so I make this forecast with a lot more thought and sensibility and, most importantly, self-knowledge put into it than I could've put into it sixteen weeks ago. I am a very different girl than left sixteen weeks ago. In regards to my relationship (or non-relationship as the case currently is) with Julien, the only thing that hasn't changed is that I have strong feelings for him (although even those went through a thorough period of questioning, assessing, and reformatting). So, for any of you who are actually reading, that is that.
Looking at this entry, I sound so confident. This isn't true--I'm scared of everything. I am scared of returning to the US and being single (although I have several dates lined up; sixteen weeks is also the longest in my life I've been single since I started dating freshman year of high school--wow). I am scared of having only one semester left of my undergraduate education. I am scared of the possibility of returning to Chat 'n' Chew. I am scared of finding a new job. I am scared of finding a "real" job after graduation. I am scared of seeing my house, my mum, my cats, my car again. I am scared of seeing my bedroom again. I am scared that, somehow, all this wonderful I have found in myself while being in France will somehow disappear when I get back to the US. I am scared that I will miss Paris a lot more than I think I will. I am scared that Paris will stop being home, but the US won't be home anymore either, and I will be lost in flux and lonely homelessness forever.
But here's where the confidence comes in--life is going to keep going. I'm going to have to deal with all these things whether I'm scared about them or not. I'm going to have to keep living my life, whether I'm scared about it or not. I can't run away. I can't hide. But I have a sense of self to be my anchor, no matter how much my fears (and any potential manifestation of actual reason for these fears) may shake me. I have seen exactly how strong I am capable of being. And kids, you have no fucking idea. This entry has already gotten cheesy and personal enough; I'd rather not share some of the personal and emotional debacles I've gone through this semester. ;) But like I said, I am a force to be reckoned with. French skills, seeing-the-world-experiences, new-friendships-etc experiences aside, my personal experiences of this semester are really enough to make it worth it.
This sounds so fucking trite, but it's true. Kids, study abroad. Not unlike milk, it does your body good.
Okay. That was seriously way longer than I expected, way cheesier, and over all, a severe waste of time for all the rest of you to read. It felt nice to write, though, so oh well.
I can't fucking wait to see you all, among the many other fabulous things I can't fucking wait to do (drive, sing loudly, catch up on BSG, play with my cats, etc, etc). So long, Paris, and thanks for all the baguettes. However, it is time to return to the mothership.
don't stay so far away from me
this weather has me wanting love more tangible
something i can hold; it's gettin' cold
So here we are. Sixteen weeks after my depart, on the eve (more or less) of my return. Sixteen weeks. When we consider that there are fifty two weeks in a year, sixteen suddenly seems a rather piddling number. But, for the most part, none of us are math or science majors, so let's face it--numbers are pretty much crap. At least for this instance, let's just accept that and move on. In the past sixteen weeks, things have changed. A lot more than they've changed in the fifty two that came before that, and possibly even in the fifty two that came before that.
Sixteen weeks in Europe, mostly Paris with a brief hop to Amsterdam, Madrid, and London, and occasionally the French countryside. What I am most impressed by is that it was sixteen weeks, uinterrupted in Europe--with my dad's flight priveledges, I really could've gone back to the US when I wanted. But I did not. I spent sixteen uninterrupted weeks in more or less the same place.
First off, I haven't done that in YEARS. Ever since I started dating Andrew the summer before senior year of high school, and excluding the, oh, month that Justus and I dated while still at UMass spring of 05, my boyfriends have always been far away. My dad has lived significantly distant from me since I was in sixth/seventh grade. My life, since the age of thirteen, has never been centralized in just one location for as long as sixteen weeks before. This was an entirely new sensation (even this summer, I lived in Yonkers for less than sixteen weeks, and even then I spent a good share of time shuffling back to Fairfield to work at CNC or tend to the other half of my life that was there--it was still an existence divided). I have found it not in the least bit disagreeable. I enjoy having one place that I can point to and say "that is home." It is not a question of "that is home on weekends and every other Thanksgiving and Christmas, alternating" while "over there is home on weekdays" and "over there is home on school breaks" etc. Apartment 15, 112 Avenue Ledru Rollin. That is home, 7 days a week.
It is strange. If, at this moment, you were to ask me where home is, that is what I would respond. I would say Paris. I've never had much love for Fairfield, so I've never identified as a Fairfielder. My formative years were divided between Fairfield and wherever my dad lived, anyways (largely Long Island, but I don't consider myself a Long Islander at all, although I had residence up until a little over a year ago). I've always loved New York City, but I've never lived there, so how can it be home? Amherst is great, but I think we can all see how it is that I'm not really a suburban (rural, if you ask me) Western MA type of person. In fact, my describing Amherst as rural probably removed at all doubts for anyone still on the fence. ;) I enjoyed the time I spent in Yonkers, but due to assorted brain fuckery going on with me this summer and also the very real expiration date on my residence there, I felt like a guest who was staying for three months. Paris... Paris is home. I know the metro like whoa, I'm a pro at the Noctilien when I need to be, I can walk anywhere, I have mastered the Parisienne frigidity--I can stop cab drivers trying to steal the right of way with a mere look! Ha ha! I dodge scooters like it's my job and I can drive off even the most determined street vendor. I've become accustomed to things here--the cafe culture, everything being closed on Sundays (and sometimes Mondays), the appropriate way to treat people... I feel comfortable here. Comfortable in ways I haven't felt anywhere in a long, long time.
A lot of this has sprung out of being here alone and largely cut off from everyone back in the US. I went through periods of extreme depression, terror, loneliness, etc, but I overcame it all, because, frankly, I didn't really have any other choice. I grew up. I become independent and self sufficient in ways never previously thought possible. I've always considered myself a fairly independent person, but this semester redefined that for me. I have fuckin' balls, kids, and I can think of very few people with balls that can measure up to mine. It takes hell of backbone to survive Paris, and hell of more of it to make Paris your home. It takes hell of backbone to do time abroad, and all of us here who have/are doing time abroad can agree to that one. There were times I wanted to run crying home and never turn, but I stuck it out, and I am a stronger and better person for it. If I got anything out of this semester, I got no small amount of self-respect. I learned a lot of French this semester, but I also learned that I am a fucking force to be reckoned with.
So don't you be trying to reckon, kiddo! ;)
So for all this, why am I so excited to go back States-side? Well, to put it tritely, "home is where the heart is." Paris is like one giant comfort blanket. I am so content with life here. But the things that really and truly matter to me are all back in the US--my family (both my parents + my dad's girlfriend are some of my best friends, and my sister is my fucking hero), my friends (in the NY/CT area, and at UMass), my cats, my car, etc... Despite everything I love about Paris, I am happy to give it all up to have these people (and animals, and Honda) back again. So I hope you guys feel fuckin' special, eh? :P But honestly, that is what has been missing the most this semester. I love my friends here, but nothing in the world compares to my friends back home.
Also, I miss the little things, like my big bed and comfy pillow, lattes in "to-go" cups and sizes as large as my head, videogames and television and movies, etc. On the flipside, I will miss my wonderful view out my window, the fantastic cafe creme on the terrace of a corner cafe, the advertising, and I will definitely miss being able to smoke indoors. I know, I shouldn't smoke anyways--but sometimes I do, and damn it's nice to be able to do it inside. ;) I will also miss Pink Elephant cigarettes. I hope I can find a substitute when I get back to the US. It seems like it would be some sort of defeat if I go back to smoking Camel Lights by default--the only reason I smoke Camel Lights is because those are the cigarettes I started smoking on, and I started smoking them because that's what Jeff Irion smoked. I feel like it would be symbolically something negative to go back to smoking those.
Speaking of men. My non-relationship with Julien this semester has been a learning experience. For all that you guys may think you know about us/him/me/whatever, particularly in regards to this past summer, Julien was one of the foundations of my life/sanity/happiness in the US. I seemed like I was in a bad state this past summer? He kept from being in a much worse state (for all that I was an ungrateful bitch about it ;D). However, we were a non-item this semester. We were not out of touch at all, but it was VERY different. He was no longer the support I could count on. This, obviously, hurt me very much (ha ha September, let us never speak of you again). However, I grew up a LOT because of that. My time in Paris, in this aspect, was exactly what I needed. I matured. I... I don't know. I'm running out of descriptive adjectives that aren't just stupid. But I've come a long way, and for all that I was hurt by him cutting me off, I never would've made it without him. And now, full circle, we are moving back toward each other, having both (mostly) worked out things that we couldn't've worked out with the other in our life (he still has some stuff left to figure, but he's doing great). He says he wants to give us another go. I'd be lying if I said I didn't still have (strong) feelings for him. When he's ready to give it a shot, I can't imagine myself saying no. He and I have both come very far this semester (and no, I don't really want to hear how you think he hasn't, because I assure you, I know him better than you do (that is an ambiguous you, not targeted at anyone) and so I make this forecast with a lot more thought and sensibility and, most importantly, self-knowledge put into it than I could've put into it sixteen weeks ago. I am a very different girl than left sixteen weeks ago. In regards to my relationship (or non-relationship as the case currently is) with Julien, the only thing that hasn't changed is that I have strong feelings for him (although even those went through a thorough period of questioning, assessing, and reformatting). So, for any of you who are actually reading, that is that.
Looking at this entry, I sound so confident. This isn't true--I'm scared of everything. I am scared of returning to the US and being single (although I have several dates lined up; sixteen weeks is also the longest in my life I've been single since I started dating freshman year of high school--wow). I am scared of having only one semester left of my undergraduate education. I am scared of the possibility of returning to Chat 'n' Chew. I am scared of finding a new job. I am scared of finding a "real" job after graduation. I am scared of seeing my house, my mum, my cats, my car again. I am scared of seeing my bedroom again. I am scared that, somehow, all this wonderful I have found in myself while being in France will somehow disappear when I get back to the US. I am scared that I will miss Paris a lot more than I think I will. I am scared that Paris will stop being home, but the US won't be home anymore either, and I will be lost in flux and lonely homelessness forever.
But here's where the confidence comes in--life is going to keep going. I'm going to have to deal with all these things whether I'm scared about them or not. I'm going to have to keep living my life, whether I'm scared about it or not. I can't run away. I can't hide. But I have a sense of self to be my anchor, no matter how much my fears (and any potential manifestation of actual reason for these fears) may shake me. I have seen exactly how strong I am capable of being. And kids, you have no fucking idea. This entry has already gotten cheesy and personal enough; I'd rather not share some of the personal and emotional debacles I've gone through this semester. ;) But like I said, I am a force to be reckoned with. French skills, seeing-the-world-experiences, new-friendships-etc experiences aside, my personal experiences of this semester are really enough to make it worth it.
This sounds so fucking trite, but it's true. Kids, study abroad. Not unlike milk, it does your body good.
Okay. That was seriously way longer than I expected, way cheesier, and over all, a severe waste of time for all the rest of you to read. It felt nice to write, though, so oh well.
I can't fucking wait to see you all, among the many other fabulous things I can't fucking wait to do (drive, sing loudly, catch up on BSG, play with my cats, etc, etc). So long, Paris, and thanks for all the baguettes. However, it is time to return to the mothership.