*The horribly unflattering picture of me is really just for my mom, bare with me here! Also, I don’t know why my smile is so crooked or why I don’t know how to take a selfie!*
Attention: this post is going to be a departure from the usual travel-related posts. I hope it isn’t too boring, but I guess it could be about travel in a way since it is something like a journey. Life’s a journey, man. Instead of, “Where’s wowcass?” the question for today is “Who’s wowcass?” Bet you didn’t see such a deep post coming from me, huh?
An alternate title to this post could be:
Did I come to France to figure out who I am? & other things I’ve been questioning lately
When I was in the shower yesterday, I think I realized something that changes my perspective on my trip just a little bit. Why is it that we always have good thinking time in the shower? I should find a waterproof notebook, I could probably write some good comedy in there. Getting back to the topic, I think I realized that I might have come to France to figure out who I am. Whoa, big one. For me, at least. I know I came to France ostensibly to teach English and better my French, but there may be a deeper reason even I wasn’t aware of when I made my decision. I’ve always considered myself to be rather grounded, but I’m pretty sure that everyone is trying to figure out who they are at different points in their life. This episode of my life (I would call it a chapter, but I watch too much TV) feels a lot like it is set up perfectly to be the time when I find out who I am. It’s the perfect cliché: I’m fresh out of college, I don’t know what’s in store for me in the future, I don’t have any prospects. I’m not exactly at a stalemate, but it feels like I’m moving without any sort of direction. Adding to this new anxiety is what I’ve learned about the job market. Recently, I’ve been searching for jobs (surprise, I don’t just sit and watch the flowers bloom all day… as much as I wish I could) and freaking out just a tad. I really wish I had done more internships while in college so that I could be equipped with the 3-5 years of experience required for “entry-level” positions. It’s all quite frustrating and I have no idea what I am going to do when I get back home. Increasingly, it seems as though I’ll have to do a lot of volunteer or unpaid internship work to gain experience. But I have a about five more weeks before that, so maybe I’ll have it all figured out by then. Will I return home with a grand plan, perhaps? How does one even go about figuring this stuff out?
So, is this my cliché find-yourself moment? I don’t know, but here are some other thoughts:
I realized that I am identifying more and more with the family dog. It occurred to me last night as I found myself sat at yet another dinner party (not totally a party, but in attendance was more than just the family), fiddling with the tears in my apparently very à la mode jeans (I was wearing ripped jeans from American Eagle, I seep patriotism). Like Crocus, I, too, can’t speak the language and I get by mostly on curly brown locks and cool tricks. For him, he sits and begs with his paws for food, my trick is knowing just enough French to say “yes” when offered food. I’m not kidding (though I may be exaggerating), sometimes I feel like I’m actually getting worse at French! And like Crocus, I want to sleep for the better part of the day and I bark when I need to go pee. Okay that last one is just him. But really, he sleeps all day long and today I found myself getting a little jealous as I watched him sunbath in the rays coming in through the window. I wish I could sleep more but, as it is, I wake up kind of late and I don’t want to seem completely lazy. Already they’ve commented on how I seem to be an entirely calm person. If you know me, then you probably just laughed out loud. Or fell over in your chair, it depends how well you know me. Anyway, it’s a preposterous idea. Am I really identifying more with a French dog than a French person?
Also, I’m reading Hemingway again (I tried him before and I did not enjoy) while here — I read somewhere that you should read him in France to get the full effect — and I’m finding that I don’t hate him. Who am I becoming?!