Things have gotten better, but I still feel trapped here. I've read a book a week since I returned from France, and this has proven to be very therapeutic. I find myself being very irritable lately, so I tend to keep my mouth shut. I don't want to anger anyone. I'm thinking about seeing a therapist. I need to go back to France. People continue to make their judgments, say nasty things, but they don't know anything. You've never lived there. You don't know what it's like.
This post is a convoluted mess, but I don't care. I'm going to the Bahamas in two days. Perfect. I need a vacation from my vacation.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Sunday, June 19, 2011
A Daily Dose
I apologize that the last few blogs have been rather depressing. But I am a writer and this is how I choose to express myself, so maybe I'm not sorry.
Thursday night I had a mental breakdown in the beer aisle at Walmart. Dylan escorted me out to my car, where we had a little chat.
As I've mentioned, I've felt depressed since I returned home. I feel that people don't quite understand me here, and some are too selfish to recognize I'm upset. I'm made to feel that I (who traveled Europe for five months and learned a second language) was the one who missed out last semester, because they tell me all the people they met and parties they've had. I am not jealous. I drank beer in Belgium and sipped wine and champagne in France, but people demean me. They make my successes seem less impressive, and I've cried almost everyday I've been home. Nobody knows how I feel except for Dylan, who's seen me spontaneously burst into tears, and Leah, who takes me out to tea weekly.
Friday night, he and I split a bottle of wine and talked about religion, toe-sucking, and broken families until 3 AM. We had seen Midnight in Paris that night at the Fine Arts Theatre and were feeling a little nostalgic, so I broke out some cheese and we sat on the patio.
Saturday, he left for his camp. He'd be gone five days. No biggie. The power had gone out in my apartment and I would be alone. When he left, I sobbed and locked myself in the bathroom. I cried by candlelight, but I could hear my boyfriend standing outside the door waiting for his girlfriend to come to. I don't know what's wrong with me. Everyday I remind myself that I'm an incredible person, but people here make me feel otherwise. I'm trying to stay strong and I've prescribed myself a daily dose of herbal tea and classic literature. It helps.
Thursday night I had a mental breakdown in the beer aisle at Walmart. Dylan escorted me out to my car, where we had a little chat.
As I've mentioned, I've felt depressed since I returned home. I feel that people don't quite understand me here, and some are too selfish to recognize I'm upset. I'm made to feel that I (who traveled Europe for five months and learned a second language) was the one who missed out last semester, because they tell me all the people they met and parties they've had. I am not jealous. I drank beer in Belgium and sipped wine and champagne in France, but people demean me. They make my successes seem less impressive, and I've cried almost everyday I've been home. Nobody knows how I feel except for Dylan, who's seen me spontaneously burst into tears, and Leah, who takes me out to tea weekly.
Friday night, he and I split a bottle of wine and talked about religion, toe-sucking, and broken families until 3 AM. We had seen Midnight in Paris that night at the Fine Arts Theatre and were feeling a little nostalgic, so I broke out some cheese and we sat on the patio.
Saturday, he left for his camp. He'd be gone five days. No biggie. The power had gone out in my apartment and I would be alone. When he left, I sobbed and locked myself in the bathroom. I cried by candlelight, but I could hear my boyfriend standing outside the door waiting for his girlfriend to come to. I don't know what's wrong with me. Everyday I remind myself that I'm an incredible person, but people here make me feel otherwise. I'm trying to stay strong and I've prescribed myself a daily dose of herbal tea and classic literature. It helps.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Tea
Okay, so I got super fucked up last night and woke up with a red wine/coconut vodka hangover after falling down a flight of stairs and ending up at Waffle House at 2 AM. Yesterday I was super depressed because Asheville felt foreign to me. Everything had changed and I felt distant from my once-close friends. I'm left out of plans since I'm not twenty-one, and I'm lonely. I miss France and am not adapting well to America. It's all just a part of culture shock, I suppose, but things are better now.
Leah, who visited me in Bordeaux, took me to a tea cafe downtown called Dobra's. It reminded me of why I love this city so much. The cafe was dark with a Moroccan theme and there was a lounge in the back where you could remove your shoes and sit on the floor. Being a newly-proclaimed tea addict, I loved the place.
Leah and I talked for almost two hours and I started to feel better about being home. She studied abroad in London so she understands that it's difficult to become adjusted to American university life again. And, more importantly, she understands the importance of the cafe culture. This is one of my favorite things about France. They take time out of their schedules to waste time in cafes with their friends. It's good for the soul. And after our chat, I felt so much better. I really am French in the sense that when I don't have my cafe/bff time, I get depressed.
Now I'm waiting for Michelle to come home so we can eat dinner together and catch up. I'm starting to fall back in love with Asheville, it's just a strange adjustment.
Leah, who visited me in Bordeaux, took me to a tea cafe downtown called Dobra's. It reminded me of why I love this city so much. The cafe was dark with a Moroccan theme and there was a lounge in the back where you could remove your shoes and sit on the floor. Being a newly-proclaimed tea addict, I loved the place.
Leah and I talked for almost two hours and I started to feel better about being home. She studied abroad in London so she understands that it's difficult to become adjusted to American university life again. And, more importantly, she understands the importance of the cafe culture. This is one of my favorite things about France. They take time out of their schedules to waste time in cafes with their friends. It's good for the soul. And after our chat, I felt so much better. I really am French in the sense that when I don't have my cafe/bff time, I get depressed.
Now I'm waiting for Michelle to come home so we can eat dinner together and catch up. I'm starting to fall back in love with Asheville, it's just a strange adjustment.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
The Loneliest Country on Earth
I guess it's about time to get back to this. My French blog is finished, and I must admit that it was easier to write when I had a large audience.
I've been home for about a week now and I'm feeling lonely. No one is ever at home anymore. My dad has a new girlfriend and he spends most of his day with her. My brother and sister have their friends, but I am alone in the mountains. I'm heading up to Asheville tomorrow because I can't stand to be here in this empty house. Though my roommates have class until 4 everyday, I can look forward to talking to them after that. Dylan's in Atlanta, so I won't see him until Thursday afternoon.
Today I reinstated my vegetarianism and self-deprivation tactics in a vain attempt to feel beautiful. Such a futile cause.
Sometimes I really hate this place. The culture here is so cold, so individualistic. I'm constantly being pushed out of restaurants, rushed to the next errand or chore, because time is money and money is time and we all have to get ahead. Jesus, doesn't anybody live anymore?
I've been home for about a week now and I'm feeling lonely. No one is ever at home anymore. My dad has a new girlfriend and he spends most of his day with her. My brother and sister have their friends, but I am alone in the mountains. I'm heading up to Asheville tomorrow because I can't stand to be here in this empty house. Though my roommates have class until 4 everyday, I can look forward to talking to them after that. Dylan's in Atlanta, so I won't see him until Thursday afternoon.
Today I reinstated my vegetarianism and self-deprivation tactics in a vain attempt to feel beautiful. Such a futile cause.
Sometimes I really hate this place. The culture here is so cold, so individualistic. I'm constantly being pushed out of restaurants, rushed to the next errand or chore, because time is money and money is time and we all have to get ahead. Jesus, doesn't anybody live anymore?
Monday, January 31, 2011
Saying Goodbye
Yesterday the weather betrayed my emotions. I suppose this is good. I wouldn't have made it home if the skies were grey, intensifying my sorrow. All day I denied that eventually the sun would set and I would have to say goodbye to Dylan. I went to his band practice, then watched him play football with his best friends. I sat in the mud and watched him while dogs pounced on me.
At the apartment, I clutched his shirt and sobbed for hours. I couldn't fathom that we only had an hour and then we would be separated for four months. I was a mess, covered in dog hair, mud, tears, and not having taken a shower. I wept so hard that I became ill. I couldn't leave him and I didn't want to drive back to Tennessee in an empty car. I couldn't do it. I called my father and he immediately gathered my sister and her boyfriend and drove up to Asheville to escort me home.
Honestly, leaving Dylan was the hardest part. If we had never met, I think I'd be okay now. But I can't eat for the pain. It's a deep, gaping wound to know everyone I love will be an ocean away. I'm so terrified. I just want to be settled and make friends. Then it will be okay. But this is the hardest part.
At the apartment, I clutched his shirt and sobbed for hours. I couldn't fathom that we only had an hour and then we would be separated for four months. I was a mess, covered in dog hair, mud, tears, and not having taken a shower. I wept so hard that I became ill. I couldn't leave him and I didn't want to drive back to Tennessee in an empty car. I couldn't do it. I called my father and he immediately gathered my sister and her boyfriend and drove up to Asheville to escort me home.
Honestly, leaving Dylan was the hardest part. If we had never met, I think I'd be okay now. But I can't eat for the pain. It's a deep, gaping wound to know everyone I love will be an ocean away. I'm so terrified. I just want to be settled and make friends. Then it will be okay. But this is the hardest part.
Monday, January 17, 2011
Because I Love You
I have the ability to ruin perfect moments. The other night I laid sobbing on Dylan's bed. I had a belly full of Waffle House and Absolut and when Dylan begged to know what was wrong, I shouted, "Because I love you!" The next day I hated myself. How could I have tainted such a beautiful moment? I should have waited.
But Dylan said, "You know, maybe that's how it was supposed to happen. Every moment has its little imperfections. But don't beat yourself up. We have had some pretty special nights."
And that's when I began to think about all of those perfect moments. It may not have been the first time I said, "I love you" or any other significant milestone in a relationship, but they were incredible nonetheless. These moments were as small as slow dancing in the kitchen or baking lumpy sugar cookies at midnight or waking up every morning and discovering new ways to make pancakes.
I always get wrapped up in the big moments, because society tells us they should happen a certain way. But the compilation of the small, beautiful, tender moments are all that matters, because who determines if the sun pours through the window panes at a certain angle or whether the sky is blue that day or if some sparkly classical music is playing in the background? And who cares? All I know is that he's the first boy to make me cry tears of joy and, hey, I love 'im.
But Dylan said, "You know, maybe that's how it was supposed to happen. Every moment has its little imperfections. But don't beat yourself up. We have had some pretty special nights."
And that's when I began to think about all of those perfect moments. It may not have been the first time I said, "I love you" or any other significant milestone in a relationship, but they were incredible nonetheless. These moments were as small as slow dancing in the kitchen or baking lumpy sugar cookies at midnight or waking up every morning and discovering new ways to make pancakes.
I always get wrapped up in the big moments, because society tells us they should happen a certain way. But the compilation of the small, beautiful, tender moments are all that matters, because who determines if the sun pours through the window panes at a certain angle or whether the sky is blue that day or if some sparkly classical music is playing in the background? And who cares? All I know is that he's the first boy to make me cry tears of joy and, hey, I love 'im.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Bon Voyage
Last night was the Bon Voyage party for Pete, Taylor, John, and me. The boys are leaving for England this weekend and this was one final bash to send them off.
As soon as I walked in (two shots in), John screamed, "Gabi, I missed you so much when I was in Michigan!!" and picked me up. I took my Wendy's Diet Coke and made Dylan pour Bacardi in it. The entire night I'm carried around a container of lime juice to chase the rum. I squirted it into people's mouths/drinks.
Then I approached some random guy and asked, "Hey, HEY, do you like French girls?"
"Shaven or unshaven?"
"Whatever you like. I'll UPS some to you, k?"
"...how about FedEx?"
So the rest of the night I'm offering to be everyone's wing girl. Taylor came into the party late because he was busy fucking some girl in his car.
"She's in community college." Stephanie told me with disdain. Pete said he doesn't have the heart to tell him she's not pretty.
John put his arm around me. I said I'd be his wing girl too, but he said he was happy with his French/Italian girl. Uh, sir, one arm is around you and the other is around my boyfriend. This is why relationships scare me so. I'm just too much of a flirt.
I had to get up this morning at 6 AM for an appointment with the TMJ specialist in Johnson City, so by 12:30 I knew it was time to go. However, I knew this would be the last time I saw Pete and saying goodbye was excruciating. I started weeping and told Dylan to go grab Pete because I was too drunk to walk over. Pete was slammed and falling on top of me. I yelled for someone to help as this 200 lb. boy rested his weight on my petite figure. He was slurring his speech so I couldn't understand anything he was saying. All I got was, "Gabi, I will do whatever you want."
I sobbed as I said goodbye and promised to meet up with Pete in Europe. He assured me he'd see me in about a month and told me how much he loved me. Then he grabbed me and attempted to walk down the hall, however he couldn't keep his balance and we both fell to the floor, laughing.
I cried the entire ride home and then made Dylan feed me kettle chips and pretzels. The next morning I was up and ready to go. I watched the sunrise over the mountains as I drove, and I was okay.
As soon as I walked in (two shots in), John screamed, "Gabi, I missed you so much when I was in Michigan!!" and picked me up. I took my Wendy's Diet Coke and made Dylan pour Bacardi in it. The entire night I'm carried around a container of lime juice to chase the rum. I squirted it into people's mouths/drinks.
Then I approached some random guy and asked, "Hey, HEY, do you like French girls?"
"Shaven or unshaven?"
"Whatever you like. I'll UPS some to you, k?"
"...how about FedEx?"
So the rest of the night I'm offering to be everyone's wing girl. Taylor came into the party late because he was busy fucking some girl in his car.
"She's in community college." Stephanie told me with disdain. Pete said he doesn't have the heart to tell him she's not pretty.
John put his arm around me. I said I'd be his wing girl too, but he said he was happy with his French/Italian girl. Uh, sir, one arm is around you and the other is around my boyfriend. This is why relationships scare me so. I'm just too much of a flirt.
I had to get up this morning at 6 AM for an appointment with the TMJ specialist in Johnson City, so by 12:30 I knew it was time to go. However, I knew this would be the last time I saw Pete and saying goodbye was excruciating. I started weeping and told Dylan to go grab Pete because I was too drunk to walk over. Pete was slammed and falling on top of me. I yelled for someone to help as this 200 lb. boy rested his weight on my petite figure. He was slurring his speech so I couldn't understand anything he was saying. All I got was, "Gabi, I will do whatever you want."
I sobbed as I said goodbye and promised to meet up with Pete in Europe. He assured me he'd see me in about a month and told me how much he loved me. Then he grabbed me and attempted to walk down the hall, however he couldn't keep his balance and we both fell to the floor, laughing.
I cried the entire ride home and then made Dylan feed me kettle chips and pretzels. The next morning I was up and ready to go. I watched the sunrise over the mountains as I drove, and I was okay.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Pancakes and Happiness
Last night Dylan and I made double chocolate chip banana pancakes for dinner. It was one of those marvelous days where I thought, I couldn't be happier. I had received a reply from my French host family, which consists of a schoolteacher, a father in the "trade of heifer", a 21-year-old girl who studied abroad in Scotland, and a 15-year-old boy who's studying to become a pastry chef.
When I told my mother about the family, she said, "Wait until that boy sees how gorgeous you are. God, he's going to go crazy!"
Ehh, I have an American boyfriend. And I am so happy. I honestly feel like I'm weightless. I have no responsibilities for the next month. I'm just hanging around the apartment, cooking for my boyfriend who thinks Bertolli is gourmet Italian, and enjoying my last few weeks with my roommates. Laughter, sleep, and sugar. It's all so, so good.
When I told my mother about the family, she said, "Wait until that boy sees how gorgeous you are. God, he's going to go crazy!"
Ehh, I have an American boyfriend. And I am so happy. I honestly feel like I'm weightless. I have no responsibilities for the next month. I'm just hanging around the apartment, cooking for my boyfriend who thinks Bertolli is gourmet Italian, and enjoying my last few weeks with my roommates. Laughter, sleep, and sugar. It's all so, so good.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Twenty Eleven
What a coincidence to be blogging right now. I remember my New Year's resolution for 2010 was to begin this blog and update it three times weekly. I'm feeling nostalgic so perhaps I'll rewind and read it from the beginning. It'd be neat to chart my progress (or regression) throughout 2010.
Anyways, I leave for France in thirty days. THIRTY DAYS. I'm still a little anxious about my trip. My French mother has yet to email me back saying that she'll pick me up at the train station, and my visa hasn't arrived. But right now I'm just trying to enjoy the moments I'll miss when I'm gone. You know, like baking cookies with Michelle and Dylan during exam week, ordering pizza with my roomies on snow days, and drunkenly kissing my girlfriends when I've had one too many screwdrivers.
It's all a little overwhelming, and my heart aches at the thought of going. Things in Asheville have been going so well and it seems unfair to have to leave it all behind. It's okay, I keep telling myself. I'll be back. I will. I will. I will.
Anyways, I leave for France in thirty days. THIRTY DAYS. I'm still a little anxious about my trip. My French mother has yet to email me back saying that she'll pick me up at the train station, and my visa hasn't arrived. But right now I'm just trying to enjoy the moments I'll miss when I'm gone. You know, like baking cookies with Michelle and Dylan during exam week, ordering pizza with my roomies on snow days, and drunkenly kissing my girlfriends when I've had one too many screwdrivers.
It's all a little overwhelming, and my heart aches at the thought of going. Things in Asheville have been going so well and it seems unfair to have to leave it all behind. It's okay, I keep telling myself. I'll be back. I will. I will. I will.
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Swing Life Away
It's been so long since I've written. I find that when I'm overwhelmed it's difficult to convey my thoughts via writing. But I suppose I should catch you guys up.
This week's been a dangerous combination of ecstasy and dread. Ecstasy because I've been seeing someone and he's the most incredible guy I've ever met. And I could fall in love with him, but I'm leaving for France in two months and I can't bear to think of us being apart. Thus, the dread.
Tuesday night we had a date night. We went to Doc Chey's downtown, where we went on our first date. Then he sang and played his guitar for me at his apartment. He played "Swing Life Away" and now I can't hear that song without thinking about him. Afterwards, I read him some of my poetry. Boys playing guitar are aphrodisiacs for me so we made out, watched a movie, and laid on the couch. He had worn a French cologne and I pressed my face to his neck.
"When you go to France I'm gonna give you a picture of me and I'll spray it with this cologne." He said.
Then he fell asleep and I cried.
This week's been a dangerous combination of ecstasy and dread. Ecstasy because I've been seeing someone and he's the most incredible guy I've ever met. And I could fall in love with him, but I'm leaving for France in two months and I can't bear to think of us being apart. Thus, the dread.
Tuesday night we had a date night. We went to Doc Chey's downtown, where we went on our first date. Then he sang and played his guitar for me at his apartment. He played "Swing Life Away" and now I can't hear that song without thinking about him. Afterwards, I read him some of my poetry. Boys playing guitar are aphrodisiacs for me so we made out, watched a movie, and laid on the couch. He had worn a French cologne and I pressed my face to his neck.
"When you go to France I'm gonna give you a picture of me and I'll spray it with this cologne." He said.
Then he fell asleep and I cried.
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Jumping Fences
Tonight was nothing short of a disaster. I went to a party with Kate, Michelle, and Liz and sipped vodka and tea from a water bottle. BPA free. Some foreigner came up and asked me where I was from. Typical. Then we spotted Pete and I dragged him with me the rest of the night.
"Cops!" False alarm. False alarm. TRUE.
Pete and I ran out the back door. I tore off my suede stilettos and jumped a fence. While going over, my leather bag got stuck, I fell to the ground and yelped. Some girl goes, "Honey, pull yourself together." Bitch, please. I am not drunk, one. Two, you are wearing a sports bra and leggings. Check yourself.
Pete grabbed my shoes from the ground and we ran through someone's backyard and into some bushes. I had no idea where my driver was, and Michelle said she was trying to find me. We were on a back road, so there was no street sign. Pete and others wandered back to the party, but I didn't want to risk getting caught by the cops so I stayed in the forest. Alone. Finally, Kate picked me up and we drove home with Liz and Michelle.
Apparently there was a gate beside the fence. No matter. Jumping it was more fun.
"Cops!" False alarm. False alarm. TRUE.
Pete and I ran out the back door. I tore off my suede stilettos and jumped a fence. While going over, my leather bag got stuck, I fell to the ground and yelped. Some girl goes, "Honey, pull yourself together." Bitch, please. I am not drunk, one. Two, you are wearing a sports bra and leggings. Check yourself.
Pete grabbed my shoes from the ground and we ran through someone's backyard and into some bushes. I had no idea where my driver was, and Michelle said she was trying to find me. We were on a back road, so there was no street sign. Pete and others wandered back to the party, but I didn't want to risk getting caught by the cops so I stayed in the forest. Alone. Finally, Kate picked me up and we drove home with Liz and Michelle.
Apparently there was a gate beside the fence. No matter. Jumping it was more fun.
Monday, October 18, 2010
Fifteen
Saturday night was Diana's quinceanera. It was a 9.5-hour party that ended with me, barefoot and wrapped in a white tuxedo jacket, walking to my car.
That night, I sat by a fire that was too hot. I listened to the sounds of the mariachi band. I danced with several boys. It kept me warm. I wanted to steal some wine, but Mama pulled me away, said, "You're driving."
Throughout the ceremonies, I couldn't help but compare this family with mine. This, I thought, looking at the three-tiered cake Lucero had made for her daughter, how she had decorated their backyard to compensate for 100 guests...this is family. Love is not selfish. Then Lucero came up to me before I left, kissed my cheek, and said, "You are my family."
It was cold, but I linked arms with a boy who shares my name. The ground was wet beneath my bare feet but I didn't care.
That night, I sat by a fire that was too hot. I listened to the sounds of the mariachi band. I danced with several boys. It kept me warm. I wanted to steal some wine, but Mama pulled me away, said, "You're driving."
Throughout the ceremonies, I couldn't help but compare this family with mine. This, I thought, looking at the three-tiered cake Lucero had made for her daughter, how she had decorated their backyard to compensate for 100 guests...this is family. Love is not selfish. Then Lucero came up to me before I left, kissed my cheek, and said, "You are my family."
It was cold, but I linked arms with a boy who shares my name. The ground was wet beneath my bare feet but I didn't care.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Regret
I've never been one for regrets. I follow my heart, so at one point, this is what I wanted. However, I've recently wondered if I haven't been a little rash in my decisions. A part of me regrets breaking up with Pierre, despite how immature he was about the whole situation. Was I really in the wrong here? Maybe, I don't know. A big part of me feels like I really fucked up. I can't look at those pictures from Montreal without feeling sick to my stomach, like I lost something very special. What was once the most incredible week of my life now brings me pain. I had this fairy tale romance, and I let it go. Maybe it was for the best. I mean, one could hardly call it a relationship. We only talked every week or so...but still. A part of me wonders if I'm a huge fuck-up.
On top of that, I think a small part of me really loved Pierre. Well, what is love anyway.
On top of that, I think a small part of me really loved Pierre. Well, what is love anyway.
Saturday, October 2, 2010
Bedbugs
It's been a shitastic week. Yesterday Pierre and I broke up and today we discovered bedbugs in our apartment. The entire afternoon was spent ziplocking our mattresses and fumigating our bedrooms. Now it's 12:30 AM, I'm exhausted, and I have to wait for my sheets and pillows to be cleaned before I can go to bed.
I set aside a bottle of wine for tonight, but nothing fun happened. I suppose that's for the best. I spent the night reading and watching Wilson and Taylor make apple chips. But I won't lie. It's been hard having my two roommates with their boyfriends here this weekend. I didn't think our breakup would affect me that much, but it has. I've sobbed and everyone knows that nothing kills confidence like a terminated relationship.
On the bright side, I think I'm going to the spa tomorrow with Kristi. And fall break starts on Thursday. Hopefully things will start looking up.
I set aside a bottle of wine for tonight, but nothing fun happened. I suppose that's for the best. I spent the night reading and watching Wilson and Taylor make apple chips. But I won't lie. It's been hard having my two roommates with their boyfriends here this weekend. I didn't think our breakup would affect me that much, but it has. I've sobbed and everyone knows that nothing kills confidence like a terminated relationship.
On the bright side, I think I'm going to the spa tomorrow with Kristi. And fall break starts on Thursday. Hopefully things will start looking up.
Friday, September 24, 2010
Content
Well, shit. Long time, no talk. I wish I could tell you about all of the crazy shit that's happened thus far this semester. I really wish I could. But some things are better left unsaid.
As of right now my head hurts from drinking 3/4 bottle of wine last night. Totally worth it. Yes, I'm content. I've learned to light a black currant candle and listen to jazz when I'm stressed. Right now it's the calm after the storm. The past two weeks were shit, but things are okay now.
School has been crazy as hell, and I'm getting all my shit together for France. This semester is going by so quickly. I'm trying to savor each moment I spend with my friends because in three months I'll be immersed in another culture with a new language and new sentiments. Kinda scary. On the bright side, Pete and Tay are planning on studying abroad in England next semester. At least I'll have them over there, though I worry about the damage we'll cause in a foreign country.
Things with Pierre have been weird lately, because I don't talk to him on a regular basis. It's strange, but I'm just holding out for France. It'll be worth it, I know.
As of right now my head hurts from drinking 3/4 bottle of wine last night. Totally worth it. Yes, I'm content. I've learned to light a black currant candle and listen to jazz when I'm stressed. Right now it's the calm after the storm. The past two weeks were shit, but things are okay now.
School has been crazy as hell, and I'm getting all my shit together for France. This semester is going by so quickly. I'm trying to savor each moment I spend with my friends because in three months I'll be immersed in another culture with a new language and new sentiments. Kinda scary. On the bright side, Pete and Tay are planning on studying abroad in England next semester. At least I'll have them over there, though I worry about the damage we'll cause in a foreign country.
Things with Pierre have been weird lately, because I don't talk to him on a regular basis. It's strange, but I'm just holding out for France. It'll be worth it, I know.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Humbling Experience
Saturday morning I woke up with a hangover from two Smirnoffs and a plate of nachos. How the hell I got hungover from the Smirnoffs is baffling, considering I wasn't even buzzed the night before. Nonetheless, I felt shitty late into the day. I couldn't stomach much but forced myself to eat anyway. While I was getting ready to go out to dinner with my family, Caitlin my roommate called me and said she just looked at our apartment and it was a wreck. It was so filthy that there were roaches.
Upon hearing this, I was pissed. The landlord knew we were moving in the next day. I went to dinner thoroughly aggravated. Caitlin tried to find us another home, but with no luck. I told Pierre my predicament. He knew I was upset so he called me. It was nice to hear his voice despite the fact that I couldn't understand most of what he was saying. His accent is strong and my phone reception was terrible. He kept telling me how much he wanted me and how he was still going to take care of me despite the distance. I felt better. I really did.
We met in Asheville this morning to see our options. When we got to the apartment, the carpet had been ripped out. They promised us new furniture, light fixtures, fumigation, and touch up paint.
By this time, I was upset. I just moped around the rest of the day, thoroughly disappointed. I didn't want to live there and considered buying a one-bedroom apartment, but prices for one-bedrooms are typically ridiculous. I'd also have to rent all of my furniture and pay for cable, internet, and utilities. Fuck.
On top of that, someone found out about me and Pierre and told me I was crazy for being exclusive with a guy overseas. She said it in the most loving way possible. I know she meant well, only giving me advice. But if anyone knows me, they know that I don't follow advice. I always do what I want. Nonetheless, her comment hurt and I started rethinking this whole relationship. These doubts made me even more miserable. Why is it so hard to follow your heart?
For the remainder of the day my roommates and I drove all over Asheville trying to find a place to live. No luck. I eventually called my dad and he advised that I stay at the current apartment. They were giving us brand new furnishings and flooring, so it shouldn't be that bad.
This entire weekend my stomach has been in knots. I have constantly felt ill from stress. I guess my life has been pretty incredible lately. Maybe this is just a humbling experience.
Upon hearing this, I was pissed. The landlord knew we were moving in the next day. I went to dinner thoroughly aggravated. Caitlin tried to find us another home, but with no luck. I told Pierre my predicament. He knew I was upset so he called me. It was nice to hear his voice despite the fact that I couldn't understand most of what he was saying. His accent is strong and my phone reception was terrible. He kept telling me how much he wanted me and how he was still going to take care of me despite the distance. I felt better. I really did.
We met in Asheville this morning to see our options. When we got to the apartment, the carpet had been ripped out. They promised us new furniture, light fixtures, fumigation, and touch up paint.
By this time, I was upset. I just moped around the rest of the day, thoroughly disappointed. I didn't want to live there and considered buying a one-bedroom apartment, but prices for one-bedrooms are typically ridiculous. I'd also have to rent all of my furniture and pay for cable, internet, and utilities. Fuck.
On top of that, someone found out about me and Pierre and told me I was crazy for being exclusive with a guy overseas. She said it in the most loving way possible. I know she meant well, only giving me advice. But if anyone knows me, they know that I don't follow advice. I always do what I want. Nonetheless, her comment hurt and I started rethinking this whole relationship. These doubts made me even more miserable. Why is it so hard to follow your heart?
For the remainder of the day my roommates and I drove all over Asheville trying to find a place to live. No luck. I eventually called my dad and he advised that I stay at the current apartment. They were giving us brand new furnishings and flooring, so it shouldn't be that bad.
This entire weekend my stomach has been in knots. I have constantly felt ill from stress. I guess my life has been pretty incredible lately. Maybe this is just a humbling experience.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
You Only Live Once
Pierre and I are an official couple now. I'll admit, I don't feel much different than when I was single, because he's so far away. It's a very strange sensation, really. To be connected so intimately to someone across the world. It's kinda nice to say I have a French boyfriend though...I won't lie about that. We have two anniversaries due to the time difference too. Kinda cute.
The only thing that sucks is that my dad's really skeptical about the whole situation. He constantly hints that I should be wary, that Pierre could be cheating on me. I don't appreciate the comments. Since we're in a long-distance relationship I can't listen to people's doubts. I have to stay positive or it won't work. The relationship is fragile. But at a basic level I still seek approval from my father, so his skepticism is really bothering me. Then again, I have to remember that my father, while wise, doesn't view relationships the way I do. He's always been more judgmental then me. I think his perspective is a little more cynical than mine. And I'm not just talking about romantic relationships. Friendships as well.
I guess time will tell. I just hope I'm not making an ass out of myself. But, hey, you only live once. I might as well try, right? Besides, everyday we're together I think, Wow. That's one day I've handled a transcontinental relationship, a feat I thought was impossible. But it's working one day at a time. We're doing it.
The only thing that sucks is that my dad's really skeptical about the whole situation. He constantly hints that I should be wary, that Pierre could be cheating on me. I don't appreciate the comments. Since we're in a long-distance relationship I can't listen to people's doubts. I have to stay positive or it won't work. The relationship is fragile. But at a basic level I still seek approval from my father, so his skepticism is really bothering me. Then again, I have to remember that my father, while wise, doesn't view relationships the way I do. He's always been more judgmental then me. I think his perspective is a little more cynical than mine. And I'm not just talking about romantic relationships. Friendships as well.
I guess time will tell. I just hope I'm not making an ass out of myself. But, hey, you only live once. I might as well try, right? Besides, everyday we're together I think, Wow. That's one day I've handled a transcontinental relationship, a feat I thought was impossible. But it's working one day at a time. We're doing it.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Infatuation
Last night Daniel tried to get me back. Again. The whole conversation was frightening, because Daniel kept telling me how much more time he had now. He could come see me on campus, eat lunch with me, see me in the mornings...etc. I started to compare the offer with Pierre's situation. He's overseas. We won't go on dates or be together again until January. As soon as I noticed myself comparing, I told Daniel he was being unfair and he should just respect my decision. He's gonna take some time away from me for awhile, which is for the best.
As if the past 72 hours haven't been strange enough, I was getting ready for bed when Pierre texted me good night and told me he loved me. I texted him back but he had already gone to sleep. Well, shit. What the hell is that? Love? What is that anyway? I sure as hell don't know. I've never felt it.
This morning Pierre contacted me like he always does. I asked him about last night, thinking it might just be a cultural difference. He said, "I know it's strange but sometimes I feel like I really do love you. Last night was one of those times."
I didn't know what to say. I've only known him three weeks so naturally I'm confused at his affection. But if it's one thing I've learned it's never to judge someone's feelings. I remember seeing young girls in love and thinking, How dumb! How can they say they're in love? They don't know what love is! But then I experienced these feelings and was infinitely frustrated when people told me to "get real."
I feel like I'm there now. People have been rather cynical about my relationship with Pierre. They don't take it seriously because of our distance, but if I want this to work (which I do), I can't have people whispering doubts in my ear. I understand everyone's concern, but I prefer to make my own mistakes. Indeed, when a girl's infatuated she doesn't want to heed her mother's warnings, she wants to boast of newfound love.
As if the past 72 hours haven't been strange enough, I was getting ready for bed when Pierre texted me good night and told me he loved me. I texted him back but he had already gone to sleep. Well, shit. What the hell is that? Love? What is that anyway? I sure as hell don't know. I've never felt it.
This morning Pierre contacted me like he always does. I asked him about last night, thinking it might just be a cultural difference. He said, "I know it's strange but sometimes I feel like I really do love you. Last night was one of those times."
I didn't know what to say. I've only known him three weeks so naturally I'm confused at his affection. But if it's one thing I've learned it's never to judge someone's feelings. I remember seeing young girls in love and thinking, How dumb! How can they say they're in love? They don't know what love is! But then I experienced these feelings and was infinitely frustrated when people told me to "get real."
I feel like I'm there now. People have been rather cynical about my relationship with Pierre. They don't take it seriously because of our distance, but if I want this to work (which I do), I can't have people whispering doubts in my ear. I understand everyone's concern, but I prefer to make my own mistakes. Indeed, when a girl's infatuated she doesn't want to heed her mother's warnings, she wants to boast of newfound love.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Change
I'm utterly baffled. I've had one of the weirdest weeks of my life.
Daniel and I talked for two hours last night via FB. This is strange because we never talked while we were dating. He would not open up to me, so we usually sat in a painfully awkward silence in front of the television screen. I figured this was because we were incompatible. Exhibit A:
I loved reading. He loved television.
I hated sports. He loved them.
I love fashion. He couldn't care less.
I speak French. He took the mandatory Spanish classes.
Within the past 24 hours I've learned that Daniel has stopped watching tv and started reading, is burnt out from watching sports, has donated his old tee shirts and has taken an interest in male fashion, and has been teaching himself French for the past two months. It's the most surreal thing. It's like seeing someone who idolizes you copy your haircut, buy the same clothes, and imitate your speech patterns. It's so strange to see your qualities reflected in another human, especially when that person is your ex-boyfriend.
On top of that, Pierre told me he's not sure if he's gonna make it to Asheville because he can't afford it. I figured this would happen, so I'm not devastated, but I am rather sad. I'll see him in 161 days, if nothing else.
And now my Blackberry is flooded with messages in French from- not one- but two different guys. I think I'm living the American dream.
Daniel and I talked for two hours last night via FB. This is strange because we never talked while we were dating. He would not open up to me, so we usually sat in a painfully awkward silence in front of the television screen. I figured this was because we were incompatible. Exhibit A:
I loved reading. He loved television.
I hated sports. He loved them.
I love fashion. He couldn't care less.
I speak French. He took the mandatory Spanish classes.
Within the past 24 hours I've learned that Daniel has stopped watching tv and started reading, is burnt out from watching sports, has donated his old tee shirts and has taken an interest in male fashion, and has been teaching himself French for the past two months. It's the most surreal thing. It's like seeing someone who idolizes you copy your haircut, buy the same clothes, and imitate your speech patterns. It's so strange to see your qualities reflected in another human, especially when that person is your ex-boyfriend.
On top of that, Pierre told me he's not sure if he's gonna make it to Asheville because he can't afford it. I figured this would happen, so I'm not devastated, but I am rather sad. I'll see him in 161 days, if nothing else.
And now my Blackberry is flooded with messages in French from- not one- but two different guys. I think I'm living the American dream.
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