let's ruin everything

Yesterday I found myself wondering if I really wanted to lug myself all the way down to Toulouse for a concert by a band I've seen twice already and met the guitarist too, but after hitting myself in the head for being an idiot (there was some confusion, all on my part, about the ticket), I am going. I don't know why I do this to myself.

Who am I going to see? My Chemical Romance. Some of you may scoff and roll your eyes, but you have clearly never heard Gerard Way talking. His voice, oh my God. If I could marry it, I would.

falling right into the denouement

In one week, I'll be on February break. In a month and a half, I'll be on April break. In two months, I'll be done.

I feel like there is always a point you reach when you live abroad where you just get annoyed. Or maybe it's just me. Or maybe it was just today.

Today, there was yet another strike which meant four of my six teachers wouldn't be at school, so there was really no point in me being there. Instead, I went with Carole to the CPAM to inquire after my social security number. Guess what we found out? They've done absolutely nothing since the first time I was there. Yep, glorious French bureaucracy who can do nothing in a timely manner.

And then there's the matter of the CAF who keeps asking for more paperwork that I don't have, and Carole told me today that her son applied in October and didn't get reimbursed until July last year. And he's a French citizen. Beuf.

At times I find myself considering staying abroad for another few months or years or wondering if I could do it forever, and I know the answer. I know the answer is no. But I still find myself considering it - looking up ways to stay, places I could go/work. But then you think about what's really waiting for you at home and the honest answer is not much. If I had anything worthwhile there, I might not have left.

It's like being in a big hurry to go nowhere. I would like to go home, but I know I'd be bored within two weeks. All my friends live so spread out and none are in the town I would be living in. Why should I go home? What's there? Maybe I should just pick up and move as soon as I get back. Where? No one knows. I could fulfill my childhood dream of living in Vermont. Why Vermont, you ask? I couldn't tell you. I just wanted to.

On a brighter note, on Tuesday, this adorable little boy in CE1 asked if he could write a story about me. I wanted to hug the little writer. He's so cute. I just wish I knew his name...

Paris, the city of... pigeons

So I didn't go to Germany, and no, I don't want to talk about it. I've waxed poetic enough (read: rationalized myself) enough to my personal journal. If I want to go to Germany for real, I will get there someday.

I went to Paris (again) this weekend. Turns out that as a resident of France, I can now get into a lot of monuments and museums for free. I did not know this, but it is a very handy thing. I went with two other assistants from the Lille academie, and we climbed to the top of Notre Dame, something I've never done in five trips to Paris.

It's over 400 steps in a tight, twisting, claustrophobic staircase with just two real places for a short respite. From one watch tower to another on the Great Wall, it's over 2,000 stairs that vary in size from small to a jump and stopping every five-ten stairs is expected. This felt similar except there was no place to rest.

The view was lovely, though, despite the clouds.

We also went inside the Pantheon, which I'd never done, and went down to check out some of the graves of famous French people. I still don't know who Leon Gambetta is exactly, despite having read his Wikipedia page and the little panel in French that tried to (badly) explain it. But all the high schools and streets are named after him, so he must have been important. 

As we walked to the Pantheon, we passed the Eglise de Sorbonne, and the little cafe where, almost exactly two years ago, I met Abdel. He was some guy who randomly started talking to me on the streets of Paris, asking if I knew if Sorbonne had canceled classes due to strikes. I had no idea, being that 1) I'm not French, and 2) I didn't go to Sorbonne. But we ended up prendre une verre (getting a drink) for about two hours at this little cafe near the Eglise. 

I remember that conversation vividly, mostly because afterwards, he gave me his number and told me to call him. I did not call him. Why? Well, because (let's do a list again) 1) at that point, I was terrified of speaking French on the phone, 2) I was in a foreign country alone and calling up a random, older guy seemed like a bad idea, and 3) I had very little interest in doing anything more than having a drink at a cafe with him. As I'd told him I was a writer (I use the term loosely), he told me that I was not adventurous enough to be a real writer.

That comment has stuck with me over the past two years and sometimes I wonder if he's right. If you ask any of my friends, they would balk at the idea that I'm not adventurous enough. I mean, I moved to China just because I could, and I spent a year having absolutely no idea what I was doing, and now I'm in France, and to them it's just incredible. To me, though, it's not. It's just what I did. I don't feel like I was being adventurous. At times, I felt like I was being stupid and crazy. Why? Because I still don't go out with people I randomly meet on the street (not that I meet that many), and I still say no to things I should say yes to, and I still chicken out when it comes to stupid things like calling people. It's just part of my overly-cautious personality that I can't get rid of.

My example for Abdel was Emily Dickenson, an extremely famous and talented writer who never left her house. But I think she had a fantastic imagination whereas mine is limited, which is probably why I do need to be more adventurous. But my cautious streak is still there and it's never going away. And I just have to live with that.

The Year of the Rabbit

As of tomorrow (February 3rd), the Year of the Rabbit begins. This is especially significant for me, given that I am a Rabbit. Aside from the obvious things to do this year (wear your red underwear everyday for good luck if you're a Rabbit), it's also the start of a new cycle in my life, which means I have to come to terms with certain parts of my past.

The past twelve years did not go as I expected them to. I expected to have the same friends all the way through high school, to graduate, go to Oregon State University, and become a veterinarian. That was my plan. Obviously, plans change. But part of starting the new cycle is recognizing failures/disappointments and triumphs and learning from them and creating a new plan.

One of my disappointments, I've already come to terms with and accepted as being better than I thought it would be. That would be going to the University of Arizona for college. It wasn't my first choice. In fact, it was near the bottom of the list, but lots of factors came into play, and in the end, of the three really viable choices, it was the one I chose. Four years later, however, I had plenty of good memories from UA, friends I'll have for life, and a stepping stone for the rest of my life. It's time to let go of the "what if I had gone to so-and-so college instead?" Because I didn't go, and I got a good education anyway.

Another of my disappointments, I'm not sure I've worked it all out yet, and it seems to have affected everything since then, which makes it harder. I lost a friend once, or perhaps not lost... the actual events are blurred in my memory and I'm no longer sure whose fault it really was. I'm sure now that it was both of ours. We both made mistakes and the result was a hurt, depressed teenager who was already anti-social to begin with and who then became even more so. It was hard at the time because I didn't have many friends anyway and I felt she was my best one I did have, so losing her was like having to start over except that instead of losing her, I sort of gained an enemy. It dissipated over time and I only saw her once after high school. But that incident seemed to just fuel a desire to remain anti-social and an excuse for why I had issues with making friends. It's not true, though. I've always been shy and I had troubles making friends before, which was one of the reasons I was so against moving in the first place.

As for that disappointment, I just have to accept that I can't change what happened. We were both immature at the time (age 15, horrible age), and couldn't see past ourselves to fix it. Have I gotten closure? Perhaps not, but maybe I don't need it. I need to stop using it as an excuse. I'm responsible for my actions at this point.

How about a triumph? Something good that's happened in the past twelve years? It's like that interview question where they ask what you think is your biggest accomplishment. Sometimes I say going to college, but that's not true. In fact, it's a blatant lie. I always knew I'd go to college. I always knew I'd get in. I always knew I'd probably have my pick. It wasn't necessarily an accomplishment so much as an expected step to take.

I guess I'd say publishing my novel was a triumph. Six years ago, if you'd have said I would someday write an actual novel and put it out there for people to read and buy, I would have thought you were joking. Six years ago, the only things I wrote were for class, and while I thought (read: thought - this was proven wrong several times) that I was a good writer, I really didn't know anything. I'm not saying I'm amazing right now, but I have my moments. I've still got a lot to learn, though, although now I think what I need to learn isn't something an editor can tell me. It's only something I can learn by living my life.

The point of a new year and a new cycle is to move forward and leave the past where it belongs: behind you.

I may not know where I'm going but I know what I'm leaving behind, and I'm happy to leave it there.