I feel sometimes like stress should be a transferrable commodity. That is to say, if I’m going to get stressed out about something (I’ve resigned myself to the fact that by-and-large, it’s inevitable, at least to a small degree), I’d rather get stressed out over, for example, finding the next meal or the next point of lodging in Europe than over the fact that the stereo headunit I bought for the Audi off eBay is hardly “new in the box,” as advertised. It’s like, if I’m going to be experiencing the stress and using at least some of it to motivate me forward, I’d rather use it towards more elemental goals. Everything I get worked up about seems so trivial again. I say “again;” it didn’t before–it’s new since the trip, I think.
Lots of things are new. Pespectives are new. Desires are new. Or perhaps they’re just newly unearthed after having been dormant for a while, but if that’s the case, I’ve never felt them this acutely before. I think being older, manning the helm of my life (to the degree that I do control it), knowing that yes, there are possibilities, gives them wings, as it were, it whatever emotional spheres they orbit inside me. During my family’s last two-year sejour in France, and even four years ago when we visited the country for a little over two weeks, my parents called the shots, and I was happy to tag along, content to soak up the moving panorama of the countryside from the rear passenger window of the car. But recently, the smoky glass, the filter of surrendered responsibility was removed, and although we only skipped off the surface, there were moments, like standing silent for minutes on end, surveying the paysage from the villa patio, or finding my way alone back from Bonn to Wiesbaden at night on the autobahn, when I felt the thrilling twinge of me vs. the world–a fundamental conflict, one that’s nearly silenced by the daily trappings and nonsense I bury myself in here.
On vera. We shall see. That’s all I could say to the Pignol family after Félicie mentioned to me for the second time that night that they had a spare room if I’d like to stay for a little while, then or in the future… It’s not the sort of place that I’d want to move without having a job lined up–my interpersonal skills aren’t up to the task of winging it in such an expensive land after just having stepped off the plane.
One thing I do know, though, something I felt in my gut after just having arrived at Dulles, silently taking the shuttle to the rental agency, letting the moving panorama of the parking lots move across my eyes: There are more things that I miss about France than there are things I’m happy to come back to here. Not people, mind you, but cultural elements, situations, intangibles… Yes, I will go back. In what capacity I don’t know, but I will.
hey! I’ve made it back :)
you should just do what I do: don’t bother stressing about housing because you will miraculously meet a luxembourgish classical pianist and end up staying at his family flat located in St. Paul
I am crazy.
but this is gonna be one good book!
(I’m so tired/upset, its weird being back here, I am looking forward to coming over to your place and hanging out whenever we get the chance). And thank donald for the poncho for me, it ended up raining. I still have the blisters on my feet (that was a *long* walk)
Hey there! Glad to see you made it back successfully, though not without another one of your novel-fodder stories :o) You were in St. Paul? Holy cow; that’s awesome.
I completely understand about it being weird being home… In spite of myself, I was overwhelmed with just an amazing sense of repulsion almost as soon as I stepped off the plane into the terminal… Ever get the sense you just don’t belong someplace anymore?
I’ll pass the word on to Donald. Give me a call here at work (843-4965) or at home (403-1465) and we’ll find someplace to chat :o)
quite.
> Yes, I will go back. In what capacity I don’t know, but I will.
i feel that way about spain.
PS I’d call but I’m on campus… did I leave my list of numbers in your office yesterday?
Yes, you did. I’ll be here until 5ish if you want to stop by and get them :o)
;)
great
I don’t want to walk all the way over there, but maybe Ivona and I can drive by your apartment later on? So please take it home with you.
also, what was that work abroad site you were telling me about?