Bottled here is a taste of spring which arrived in Paris last week. Inside is the sight of flowering trees; the song of birds chirping loudly all day, calling you out to lay in the grass and soak in the warming weather. There are also memories inside, memories I’ll happily share with you of walks along canals lined with Parisians out to soak up the sun––they come out like iguanas, say my friends from Columbia. Can you feel the warmth on your freckling cheeks as you sit outside at a cafe table having doffed your coat? Can you feel your soul lifting and relaxing in the spring air?
Let me apologize beforehand if by writing this I curse someone somewhere, if I bring winter back upon our heads, let it be known I‘m sitting next to the wooden beams that hold up my ceiling and I knock upon them now. Here’s the thing: I can’t believe I’m going a whole year without snow. I’m a bit dazed, I’ve never had a year without snow in my life. I suppose many people would find that wonderful, certainly many who’ve suffered the polar vortexes back in the States, and as a proper North Dakotan I don’t want to seem ungrateful…I just feel…dazed. This winter didn’t rage around me, dominating my life giving me snow days that I treasure as a sweet blessed relief from routine. This winter I was never blinded by white as I looked out the windows of my home. And no one has been able to understand how I’ve been the happiest on the rare nights when the wind howls across the roof that’s two feet from my head. This winter, plus spending a month and a half in the horribly hot Mediterranean last summer really cemented how much I’m a woman from cold northern plains.
Recently I had my two week vacation which I spent traveling Europe. I’d harbored secret little hopes that Germany or at least Denmark would have a little snow. Denmark did have a more bitter cold and less daylight than anything else I’ve experienced this winter but still all I got was some light rain. One night, when there was no rain, we drove out to a beach. It was seven or eight at night, pitch dark with no stars or moon breaking through. The pale sand faded away not far from us into the sound of the Baltic Sea we couldn’t distinguish from the black sky. It was like standing at the edge of a terrifying and beautiful hungry nothing. With everything so dark, would you realize how close you were to waters edge before it was too late? Before it ate you up and sucked you into its lonely vastness? It was as close as I’ll ever get to my dream of returning to earth in 10 billion years to see the blackest sky that envelopes when the stars have drifted too far away for anyone but butterflies to see their shining light. The Baltic Sea at night was possibly better, though, because of the sound of waves rolling invisibly in and out. PS. Here's an actual photo from my trip to tide you over as I slowly pull myself together.
When you get here we'll go straight to Ye Olde Books and Curiosities shop. Later we'll go to the Historical Museum and bring quarters to make the model trains go. If you get here today we'll go to Girl Talk tonight. I'll finish my quilt so that after the show you can curl up in it and sleep happily. Happily, which is an adverb because it's describing how you sleep. It makes me a little anxious when people mix up their adverbs and adjectives, I wonder if they realize what they're saying. How are you doing? Should be answered with I am doing well. If someone asks you What are you doing? then you can say I am doing good. Because you're all doing good. Do you see how that has a completely different meaning? Although not entirely unrelated because, for instance, I am more well when I am doing more good. Things are just flying out the window. Other than that, I'm not a strict grammarian. Go ahead and say anyways.
What if I go teach English in Thailand or Vietnam? I saw my passport lying on my dresser last night and thought, "You're so good looking...maybe we should go somewhere." Is that a good way to make life decisions? "Heeeeeey good lookin'/Whaaaaat you got cookin'"
I'm looking forward to today so Ima sayonara (see, not a strict grammarian). I just wanted to talk.
And if you were wondering, this is my favorite color scheme ever:
I dreamed of looking like this when I was a child. I don't, by the way.
My attitude towards what I do post-graduation is a combination of shooting for the furthest galaxy and despondency. When an idea pops into my head I say, "Why not?" Except that in my current outlook it sounds more like "Why not." I'm applying for a job at the Sundance Film Festival. The National Film Board of Canada's job listings page is now in my folder of websites I check just about everyday. I'm planning on spending a couple of months in Hawaii. A week to a month in Seattle. Or move there entirely. I want a big city. Study Spanish and live in Spain for a month. Imagine Spain in May. Work with troubled youth in Australia.
I really am seriously considering all of these things. Because what do people like me do in my position? People who are passionate about and fascinated by everything but are dipping into morose-osity because they lack direction. People like me move to Israel and work on a kibbutz (something I've thought about doing since I was 19). I research my future by checking one-way ticket prices to places all over the globe. Right now my future is affordable because it's months away and I have no deadlines. I am completely and utterly flexible.
I don't promise I'll do all these things. In a way, I hope I don't. Not like this. I will see the world, but I'd hate to be a wanderer trying to find their way out of morose-osity. The way life comes to me I can never find my future. It's not until the present is ending that I suddenly find my new purpose. I dream up plans and purposes because why should I sit around for something to be handed to me on a plate, but it's like throwing weak magnets at a fridge and watching them slide slowly down.
I know it will work out.
But. This time it's a big deal. This time it's more stressful. I'd like to have a purpose. Did you know this is who I am inside?
I've lived in a place I call the west for five years now and I'm still not used to it.
On this most recent trip I drove through a corner of Arizona and felt amazed by all the cacti. There were so many! Like five! In one place! But maybe I just never get used to anything. The first time they took me to San Francisco I stared open-mouthed at everything. I apologized for being the country-bumpkin cousin. They patted me on the head, lovingly, and agreed they wouldn't have it any other way. Thank heavens because nothing has changed.
