ch-ch-ch-changes
Well, I'm home. I can't believe it's over.
I don't know. I can't even begin to summarize the past four months. A lot happened. Moreover, a lot happened that I never thought would happen. There were times when I honestly believed I was dreaming, when I questioned whether I was living my own life or someone else's. I know this is cliche to say, but I guess that, in a lot of ways, I was living someone else's life. I'm not the same person as the girl who left on January 10. It's taken coming home for me to truly understand all that's happened this semester. I don't feel the same or act the same or have the same responses as I would have had five months ago.
I have never felt more independent or capable. There were also moments when I had never felt more inelegant or objectified. This experience educated me a lot about Americans and made me grateful to know that I was brought up in an environment which taught me to care about the world instead of just myself. Because, believe me, I met plenty of people who didn't have such luck.
I learned that almost all of the stereotypes about the French are completely true: they're rude, they smell bad, and they love to love (ironic, isn't it?). Perhaps best of all, I learned not to resent them because of this. At first it was so annoying that they were exactly who everyone said they would be, but then I learned to accept they were crazy and moved on. And now I love them and all their crazy quirks. Funny how things work out.
Basically, France proved to me that the shit I worry about is pretty pointless (and that I should be worrying about completely different things...hmmm). I did put plenty of joie in my vivre, but I also put a lot of stress and sadness and, on occassion, anger in it, too. And now it's over and I wouldn't change anything because even the stress and the sadness were worth it. I'd like to think that I'm better for it.
This entry has taken me nearly two weeks to write, probably because I've been home and home has made me feel differently about a lot of things. It's weird when you come back to the place where you've always lived and realize that it's exactly the same. Same house, same parents, same dogs, same friends, same vehicles, same situation. It's comforting for a little while and then it gets scary. I think the scariest thing is that while I usually fall back into the same patterns when I come home, I'm not doing that now. There are new patterns and new emotions. I guess I finally feel like I'm a grown up (or closer to it, anyway). All it took was a little wine, some brie, and several dozen (hundred?) pain au chocolats.
Thanks for the ride, France. I'll never forget it.
I don't know. I can't even begin to summarize the past four months. A lot happened. Moreover, a lot happened that I never thought would happen. There were times when I honestly believed I was dreaming, when I questioned whether I was living my own life or someone else's. I know this is cliche to say, but I guess that, in a lot of ways, I was living someone else's life. I'm not the same person as the girl who left on January 10. It's taken coming home for me to truly understand all that's happened this semester. I don't feel the same or act the same or have the same responses as I would have had five months ago.
I have never felt more independent or capable. There were also moments when I had never felt more inelegant or objectified. This experience educated me a lot about Americans and made me grateful to know that I was brought up in an environment which taught me to care about the world instead of just myself. Because, believe me, I met plenty of people who didn't have such luck.
I learned that almost all of the stereotypes about the French are completely true: they're rude, they smell bad, and they love to love (ironic, isn't it?). Perhaps best of all, I learned not to resent them because of this. At first it was so annoying that they were exactly who everyone said they would be, but then I learned to accept they were crazy and moved on. And now I love them and all their crazy quirks. Funny how things work out.
Basically, France proved to me that the shit I worry about is pretty pointless (and that I should be worrying about completely different things...hmmm). I did put plenty of joie in my vivre, but I also put a lot of stress and sadness and, on occassion, anger in it, too. And now it's over and I wouldn't change anything because even the stress and the sadness were worth it. I'd like to think that I'm better for it.
This entry has taken me nearly two weeks to write, probably because I've been home and home has made me feel differently about a lot of things. It's weird when you come back to the place where you've always lived and realize that it's exactly the same. Same house, same parents, same dogs, same friends, same vehicles, same situation. It's comforting for a little while and then it gets scary. I think the scariest thing is that while I usually fall back into the same patterns when I come home, I'm not doing that now. There are new patterns and new emotions. I guess I finally feel like I'm a grown up (or closer to it, anyway). All it took was a little wine, some brie, and several dozen (hundred?) pain au chocolats.
Thanks for the ride, France. I'll never forget it.
posted by Anne @ 10:04 PM
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