raindrops, tea, nostalgia
According to livejournal I haven't posted in 7 weeks. Haven't posted anything real since August. I suppose I have an excuse, at least, but in all honesty I haven't been compelled to write much here. Seems like everything is either to dull and day to day or to personal to put up for others to read.
I miss Panama. I miss the tipico on the radio, the raspao vendors on the dusty streets, the immense love and immense fear generated by a people so proud of their perceived heritage and selves. I miss the family I have made for myself there, and hate the knowledge that by the time I can return, I will have faded to a generic echo in their minds, just "the American," the one who touched their lives for just six months, six nothings. Worse is that the same will happen to me and they will scarcely register in my mind when I think of my friends and loved ones.
Strange, isn't it, how here, now, in this life I lead, it's like the last 2 seasons never happened. I cannot reconcile my life there with my life here; they refuse to integrate into a whole. I have no regrets about going, but I do regret returning. I feel fragmented and small, and not in a depressed or insane way. I just sense that there is a part of me that broke in half when I left Santa Cruz, and broke again, more completely, upon my return. It doesn't feel like a return. It just feels like leaving.
Anyways, mostly things are going very well; school is predictably easy, violin is good, art is excellent. I've been thinking about things like college and the future and preparing myself, but it's better than it could be because I am very ready to move on and get out. It's almost painful to be in Santa Cruz sometimes. I've lived there a long, long time, and leaving for awhile shook me out of the spell of enchantment that I had been in. I love love love this town but I would like to go somewhere else and make new memories. It is a little chafing to have every single corner of this city to hold an important event. It's as if this novel is closing- time to write another.
Cool, done rambling.
Love,
Laurel
I miss Panama. I miss the tipico on the radio, the raspao vendors on the dusty streets, the immense love and immense fear generated by a people so proud of their perceived heritage and selves. I miss the family I have made for myself there, and hate the knowledge that by the time I can return, I will have faded to a generic echo in their minds, just "the American," the one who touched their lives for just six months, six nothings. Worse is that the same will happen to me and they will scarcely register in my mind when I think of my friends and loved ones.
Strange, isn't it, how here, now, in this life I lead, it's like the last 2 seasons never happened. I cannot reconcile my life there with my life here; they refuse to integrate into a whole. I have no regrets about going, but I do regret returning. I feel fragmented and small, and not in a depressed or insane way. I just sense that there is a part of me that broke in half when I left Santa Cruz, and broke again, more completely, upon my return. It doesn't feel like a return. It just feels like leaving.
Anyways, mostly things are going very well; school is predictably easy, violin is good, art is excellent. I've been thinking about things like college and the future and preparing myself, but it's better than it could be because I am very ready to move on and get out. It's almost painful to be in Santa Cruz sometimes. I've lived there a long, long time, and leaving for awhile shook me out of the spell of enchantment that I had been in. I love love love this town but I would like to go somewhere else and make new memories. It is a little chafing to have every single corner of this city to hold an important event. It's as if this novel is closing- time to write another.
Cool, done rambling.
Love,
Laurel