Whelmed

Next week I'll be home.

Last week I felt like I wasn't ready. I don't think I realized how quickly the leaving part would sneak up on me.

This weekend I went to Jersey with Emilien and 40 people he works with. It was fun most of the time, but some of the time I felt like this huge awkward outsider imposter person. I don't feel much like going into it here on the interwebs, but it made me realize that, yeah, I'm a bit tired of being the foreigner. I'm excited to come home to my country, speak in my language with people who will understand my slang, cultural jokes, nostalgic references. And I'll get theirs.

This week I'm having goodbye dinners with my colleagues and my friends. It's such a strange, indescribable feeling that I have. All this month I've watched the lasts roll in. Last time I'll see Fabien, last concert in France, last book rental from the medi@theque, last Friday class, last vacances, last grocery shopping. Soon I'll have my last paycheck, last dinner with my friends, last hair wash under my two-minute long shower, last weekend in Paris, last look at French stars. What will the final footfall in France, just before I board the plane, feel like? What will happen in my stomach when I hear my final announcement in French, and this time understand every word?

And what will my life be like in a month? Will I still be able to watch French movies with no subtitles? Understand song lyrics? How long does it take to lose a language? Will I see my colleagues again someday? What if one day I call them on the phone and am not able to understand their French?

You can see I'm a ball of nerves and conflicting emotions. My solution? Take advantage of the last days of my contract. And hope that these lasts are only lasts for this period in my life. Someday I'll come back here and make all new firsts and lasts. There's no doubt in my mind.

Going to the aaaaaatlantic!

Yeah, that's right. To all my Jersey shore peeps out there, I'm going to send you a big fat wave from the other coast of our ocean. Saturday. If you live nearby and the weather's nice, I encourage you to go to the beach. I'll be at this beach, looking at this view (image here):



Technically, I'll be on the coast of the bay that empties (flows? runs? eff geography)into the Atlantic, but that's good enough for me. I mean, there are already something like 3900 kms separating me from the other coast; who am I to complain about the distance of a tiny bay too?

It's another two-week paid vacation and this time I'm not bored out of my mind. I've got a new friend with a motorcycle and a desire to show me cool things about France and French culture. My best friend here (who was away the last vacances) is staying in town and open to traveling with me (that's us in the photo on the beach at Trouville). And most importantly, I'm feeling the crunch. I know I've gotta see stuff, and I know I've gotta see it now. Because, though my heart tells me I'll be back to France many times, my brain and the economic crisis warns me that one is never sure, and that I need to seize the opportunity I have to see this country now, while the language is fresh and I've nothing else to do.

So, this weekend La Baule; next weekend...? I'm thinking Strasbourg or maybe Provence. I so would love to go there before I leave. The weekend after I'm going to Jersey! Dream fulfilled! The weekend after that I'll be in Paris. And the weekend after that...get ready...

Are you ready for this?

The weekend after that I'll be in New Jersey.

(I can't write anymore cause I'm too busy cleaning the pieces of my exploded head out of my keyboard.)

Fail

Well, I did decide to fail.

It's day four of the National Poetry Month poem-a-day challenge, and I've written exactly one so far. Last year I rocked it - thirty poems by the end of April - but this year I feel unmotivated. Also, my time in France is bittersweetly coming to an end, and I don't much feel like having a reminder of the time gone by every day. So I'm sitting this one out.

But you should go see what Rachel's been up to, cause it's awesome.