Our whole apartment (ours, not the whole building, mind you) just reminds me of someone moving. This makes complete sense of course that it would remind someone of that. Walls look naked, shelves are pathetically empty, fridge looks like it was ransacked by raccoons from the desert, crap on the floor (not...literal crap, but just general household crap), and this weird pit in your stomach but which is actually extreme excitement. Things are looking somewhat pessimistic, because apparently one can accumulate a lot more things than you would think in just a year. We already have filled 3 cardboard boxes with books and things that will have to wait till September for my dad to come back and get. For some odd reason, my mom decided that I can't use my backpack for a carry-on and insists we fold it up in a suitcase. And I'm having to share a different smaller suitcase for my carry-on. Gosh, where did my freedom go?
But of course, it might feel like you're brushing your teeth right after eating crackers now (one of my "metaphors" that I suppose is hard to explain- but just think about it- crackers generally cause much gook in between teeth, and then you have to brush them, but it's sort of awkward and hard and gah because there's just so much to clean. Get it?? I get it.) but in just about a month (perhaps a few weeks, but either way it's all just a snap of the fingers, a blink) it'll all be back to "normal" and we'll be "settled in". And stuff. So like, yeah.
I guess we all sort of experience that environment of your house/apartment/etc being cleaned and having to get rid of various doo-dads that you hung on for like 10 years because of unknown reasons. It's like there's this certain "moving season" for all of us. Then again, some people never moved. It's a strange feeling, and can really suck. Sometimes it rocks though. Take for example, if you were getting ready to fly back to your home after living in a foreign country for a year. Just an example.
Airports are of course more ugh now, but I just have to survive an 8-hour stretch over the Atlantic (during the day, so I don't have to somehow forcefully convince myself to try to sleep) and then about a 2-hour one to good ol' southeastern Michigan. Oh, yes I am fully aware of the concept of delayed flights, because if you remember right, our first one from Detroit about a year ago was delayed at least 2 hours from a storm. But hey, it'll just be a really really long day for me. Which is sort of cool if you think about it, considering I'm arriving in my favorite place of the whole spherical world.
We wake up at around 7:30, take the plane at 10, arrive around 6 pm France time, but which is really noon, and then 3 hours to Detroit is 8 pm, but which is really 2 pm, but of course you must add 2-3 hours for customs, waiting around, etc. So it's gonna be more like 4. 5. 6. I probably wouldn't mind talking about these things for the rest of forever, (I'm kinda excited. Can you tell?) but I suppose I should get back to packing. Sigh. Basically, as long as I arrive with clothes, iPod, camera and some books, it's all good. I can (probably) wait till September for most of that stuff.
Um and yeah. And then those last days are sort of hard on anyone, no matter what the circumstance. Well okay not really. But sometimes I just feel obligated or something to stare out the window and admire stuff more. Like, take it all in before I don't see it again for a while, or forever. But it's just sort of hard doing that, because you're just so used to seeing it even if you know you won't. Okay, there's mountains back there. Yes, the cars are smaller. People speaking French... pastry stores... people smoking... okay. Yeah, that same guy's walking down the street again. I hear yet another airplane take off. Nice chocolate croissant, but I feel like I've tasted these before. Yes yes, the mountains- I know I know.
Because really, at a certain point, maybe you should/can just say goodbye. Just turn your back. Been there, done that. People said it was such a "great opportunity" and my mom kept saying "people would kill for such an experience", but okay, I'm a lucky person and life is good, and no one was actually pressuring me to enjoy it all, even though I sort of felt like they were. Yes, I have learned life lessons. Yeah, it was worth it. Yes, I made friends and ate good food and went to a lot of places and learned lots of French and wrote some and took pictures and climbed mountains. No, I do not regret it. Yes, I did miss some things, and will miss things from France. Yes, I was redundant and continue to be. Yes, maybe I spent too much money on CD's. No, I do not like roasted squirrel. Yup, I need to say goodbye to my friends and give back some music. No, I did not do all the things I thought I would, but there's still lots of time. Yes, I am looking forward to seeing my friends again and doing cool stuff (why do people keep asking me this when we say we're going? Isn't this clearly agiven? I mean, come on!). The works.
Yeah um yeah. Yeah.
1 comment:
...you just spent almost a thousand words talking about "your frikin breakfast."
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