Poster

107.

Well, what. I decided to use prose (well, not poetry) today... sometimes it's just more effective. And mine tends to get raw. That could be said for not poetry I suppose as well, but we all have to get it out someway.

Ever since the first day, I've been thinking about going home and all that. It's gotten pretty exciting lately, with the numbers really waining down to those hopeful 2-digits. I've sort of let go on some of my grip on France, but am still sort of blinded. You know it's kinda funny; in the beginning, the end seems like the greatest fantasy- it's what you want. But you have to wait a while. So it moves on, the days pass, you learn some stuff, you breathe in oxygen again and again. Then, yeah, you blink, and you're where you are, which just so happens to be very close to the end. But suddenly, you're almost confused. I mean, all this time- "I want to go home I want to go home home home home yes I'm going home going home" and then you almost don't notice but you are going home, and while clinging on to that going home state, you most likely don't take so much stuff in, and maybe you don't.... want to go home. Well, you want to go home, but the numbers are just sort of misleading.

So the other day it occurred to me that, yeah, I really was going home, but was it too fast? I've taken tons of pictures; I've written tons of blog posts; I've learned a ton; I've met new people; learned (still am) a new language or two; had (and am in the process of having) a "once in a lifetime experience" and all that.. but to actually say goodbye to it?

But then I thought, you know what, I've got a lot. I honestly think I'm ready to go, but then again, still glad for the last "few" days. I'm happy where I am, but still have this inspirational gnawing to get back to where I was, to live with myself after and with all these new thoughts and ideas. I'm inspired; I can see where I (think I) want to go, who to be, what to do. Perspective.

But why even bother? World troubles. We've all just got our own ideas. Why should one person matter? Who cares. It's just all big, too everything.

But normally that feeling, that perspective, only really lasts a few hours or so. As you probably know from a few of my other posts. But it's worth it, and I know (I think) that someday, approximately 107 days from now, it'll become the only perspective, and I can just soak it in, soak in what I've been pondering about for all these months, from writing those little snippets in my cahier des textes (planner) and observing the 5iemes and 6iemes playing ping-pong and just strumming that acoustic guitar during lunch time.

Oh. I think I just lost the perspective. Not necessarily.

"Expression is when you're at one with nothingness and you just breathe with your playing."
- John Frusciante (who is, by the way, frickin' awesome {and pictured up there}).