So, I think I'm gonna keep this blog going for a while. You know, like a big girl, who started with livejournal and now have blossomed into a buxom blogger...hehhe.
Ok that was ridiculous.
SO, I'm back in new york city, with my very best friends in the world. I spent the whole first morning laughing and swapping stories and being so happy to talk to my Meg who I missed sooooo much! We got really really close last year and now I can hardly imagine not being around her all the time. I just love that girl!
in other news, I am glowing with happiness because....I'M A PERFORMANCE MAJOR!!! And a production major. Um and a history major. And in the honors program. What? But anyway, I can take advanced acting classes, and vocal labs, and movement and senior showcase! Only downside is i've now been demoted to a junior. Which means two more years. Sneaky how I worked that out...
My mom helped me move in and organise and then as usual, re-arranged everything the way she liked it while I was sleeping/distracted. She left this morning....not exactly crushed. She's going to Illinois to see her relatives so it makes me happy that she's going somewhere that is not home. Home is sort of a disaster right now, even though my dad's back in his program, it doesn't, as usual, seem to be helping at all. Suprise suprise.
I have been desperately waiting for any word from mon amour Hervé and I finally got an email yesterday! I got it in the morning too, when I didn't have time to read it and I spent the whole torturous day thinking about it. As soon as I got home I tore that email APART. It was perfect, as usual. I hope he comes to visit soon. I was planning to write a response but wanted to do so after my mother left that night - which then didn't happen until 2am. So I began writing and became so rapidly exhausted that I saved it as a draft and planned to finish it today. I didn't DREAM he'd be able to get back on a computer again. But of course, he somehow did, and had no email from me and was sad and dissapointed in a really apologetic way and I felt AWFUL. So I wrote him a frantic email explaining and called him on skype and I haven't heard anything else. If you wonder why I'm telling you this, the answer is because I'm completely nuts. I'm crazy. That's...yeah that's about it.
I think I have my schedule all figured out now, at least as far as classes go, and I only have class on mondays, tuesdays, and wednesdays! It rocks, pretty much. That means when I leave for the weekend I can leave on wednesday night if I want. Suh-weet! I'm only taking four classes: acting (and vocal tech), theatre history, draping, and civil war history. Interesting combination. I could also take that french class but it would tip me up to 20 credits and I don't know if I can handle that, I don't want to do what I did to myself the last semester I was here. I mean I had to LEAVE THE COUNTRY afterwards. Clearly not a good plan.
I auditioned for the mainstage shows tonight, or only one of them actually because there was just no part for me in the other. I mean really. Anyway the one I auditioned for is a restoration comedy called Busy Body. It went alright but I'm not optimistic about a callback, I've never even been called back for a mainstage. Saturday is the audition for Morgan's show which I'm REALLY interested in. We shall see.
So I guess that's about all that is new...yup. Off to the grocery store at 11pm. I love New York.
Thursday, August 31, 2006
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
The Hardest Part
I know all along I would need to write this entry but I kept putting it off and putting it off and claiming it wasn't the right moment over and over again. But it will never be the right moment, so I figured finally, I would just suck it up and do it.
I left Paris on the 14th.
I left Hervé on the 13th, at dusk. We stood on the train platform, locked in each other's embrace; me trying not to cry and him kissing away the tears that slipped out. I want to see him as soon as possible but we're both broke and although he works he's building his house when he's not away on business and I feel awful having him spend all his time and money to come see me. So hard. If he wasn't absolutely remarkable, I'm not sure I would let myself feel the way I feel about him.
I just don't think I've ever been with someone who made me feel extraordinary when I'm being simply myself. Maybe its part him and part the fact that this whole experience has made me more comfortable in my own skin, but it just feels at ease but nice. Its going to be horridly awful to be so far from each other, but I can't ignore the way this feels. I'm absolutely no good at that, and neither is he, thank god.
Couldn't we just drain the atlantic and build a big highway? Where cars travel at 1000 miles per hour and don't use gas? That would be swell.
I've been home for several days now, well over a week I guess but it doesn't feel that long. I went down to Ashland with my mom and Mara, which was so great. I hardy ever get to see Mara and we got to spend some nice quality time together. I am still jet-lagged so I start getting sleepy at about 10:00 at night, but I managed to make it through most of the shows, sorry if I wasn't excited Mara, I blame fatigue and the general shock of coming home.
So far the only things that stood out in coming back have been anoverwhelming feeling that everyone is staring at me, but I decided maybe this is a residual effect from france, where in general, everyone WAS usually staring at me.
That and everyone is so friendly in shops and restaurants here, I forgot all about that.
I also seem to speak with a bit of a drawl, I don't know why.
I leave for new york thursday morning THANK GOD, things are explosive here. My dad has interviews for a new job, I cross my fingers he finds something that pleases both him and my mom. She has been biting her nails to the bone (metaphorically, she has impecible nails actually). I long so much to be around all my best friends, but I fear so much that there's so mch I can never make them understand and I'll feel like I've alienated myself from them. I realize now I was already feeling alienated when I left, perhaps by my own doing. I just felt muddled and lost track of where I ended and others began, and I hate that feeling. Especially when its non-consentual, it feel so violating. Like someone is poking around in your mind and zapping away every sunconscious inkling that you find comforting. A horribly dangerous feeling for me, because I don't handle imbalance very well.
Hervé leaves for La Rochelle for work, I leave for New York (with my mom in tow, mostly so she can escape the domestic hell that is her life). Many happy reunions lay ahead but part of me is very scared, and I don't know why.
But yes, it is over. My 8 months abroad have changed me more than I could possibly express, so I hope these entries speak for themselves. I may or may not decide to keep this blog, I haven't been able to devote more than 10 seconds of clear thought to it and 12:39, when I'm still jet-lagged, and have just said goodbye to my lover who I won't speak with again for two weeks, is not the time to make an attempt.
a bientot mes adorés,
Deb
I left Paris on the 14th.
I left Hervé on the 13th, at dusk. We stood on the train platform, locked in each other's embrace; me trying not to cry and him kissing away the tears that slipped out. I want to see him as soon as possible but we're both broke and although he works he's building his house when he's not away on business and I feel awful having him spend all his time and money to come see me. So hard. If he wasn't absolutely remarkable, I'm not sure I would let myself feel the way I feel about him.
I just don't think I've ever been with someone who made me feel extraordinary when I'm being simply myself. Maybe its part him and part the fact that this whole experience has made me more comfortable in my own skin, but it just feels at ease but nice. Its going to be horridly awful to be so far from each other, but I can't ignore the way this feels. I'm absolutely no good at that, and neither is he, thank god.
Couldn't we just drain the atlantic and build a big highway? Where cars travel at 1000 miles per hour and don't use gas? That would be swell.
I've been home for several days now, well over a week I guess but it doesn't feel that long. I went down to Ashland with my mom and Mara, which was so great. I hardy ever get to see Mara and we got to spend some nice quality time together. I am still jet-lagged so I start getting sleepy at about 10:00 at night, but I managed to make it through most of the shows, sorry if I wasn't excited Mara, I blame fatigue and the general shock of coming home.
So far the only things that stood out in coming back have been anoverwhelming feeling that everyone is staring at me, but I decided maybe this is a residual effect from france, where in general, everyone WAS usually staring at me.
That and everyone is so friendly in shops and restaurants here, I forgot all about that.
I also seem to speak with a bit of a drawl, I don't know why.
I leave for new york thursday morning THANK GOD, things are explosive here. My dad has interviews for a new job, I cross my fingers he finds something that pleases both him and my mom. She has been biting her nails to the bone (metaphorically, she has impecible nails actually). I long so much to be around all my best friends, but I fear so much that there's so mch I can never make them understand and I'll feel like I've alienated myself from them. I realize now I was already feeling alienated when I left, perhaps by my own doing. I just felt muddled and lost track of where I ended and others began, and I hate that feeling. Especially when its non-consentual, it feel so violating. Like someone is poking around in your mind and zapping away every sunconscious inkling that you find comforting. A horribly dangerous feeling for me, because I don't handle imbalance very well.
Hervé leaves for La Rochelle for work, I leave for New York (with my mom in tow, mostly so she can escape the domestic hell that is her life). Many happy reunions lay ahead but part of me is very scared, and I don't know why.
But yes, it is over. My 8 months abroad have changed me more than I could possibly express, so I hope these entries speak for themselves. I may or may not decide to keep this blog, I haven't been able to devote more than 10 seconds of clear thought to it and 12:39, when I'm still jet-lagged, and have just said goodbye to my lover who I won't speak with again for two weeks, is not the time to make an attempt.
a bientot mes adorés,
Deb
Monday, August 07, 2006
Une Vie Plus Simple
My plane leaves Paris for the States on the 14th.
I am making yet another impromptu trip to spend as much time as possible with Herve.
I'll only be back in Paris the night before I leave, which means these (until Wednesday) are my last days in Paris.
I'm sort of dazed and confused, and about 80% in denial.
I was in Bretagne for the last few days, the jagged rocks of the wild atlantic coast. It was cloudy most of the time, but that didn't bother me. A wild smokey ocean is what maybe I like most of all. And the food, oh the food...I think between Bretagne and the Alps I've put on at least 4 kilos (8ish pounds). GUH.
Spent three blissful days in the Alps with Herve, his brother Norbert and his brother's girlfriend Aurelie. We also had dinner a couple of times with his Aunt and Uncle and their daughter, Virginie who has a tiny baby girl named Noami. Took adorable pictures of us all frolicking in the mountains.
Herve tried to teach me how to play the guitar and I tried to teach him a little bit of the piano. We made up little songs.
Went apricot picking with Aurelie while Herve and his brother and their dad worked on mounting the giant bay window in Herve's new house. We got chased away by wasps but pretended not to be afraid.
One morning during breakfast I saw Herve's father outside picking wildflowers which grow on the grassy hill outside of their home. Brilliant gold and pink. Later I saw these same flowers in a vase on the mantle in the living room, beside the collection of photographs of Herve's mother, who passed away four years ago. Herve told me that every evening on his way home from work his father visits his mother's grave. I looked at those flowers and I looked at this man in front of me with sincere gentle eyes and I looked out the window behind him over the hills to the village in the distance with its gray stone church tower towering above the houses with their red slate rooves. I started to cry and though all I could do was apologize he took me into his arms and sat with me on the couch until after some time we both fell asleep.
When did life become so complicated? When did we lose our hold on the simple integrity of our own sentiments? Why do we apologize when we cry? Why isn't there always someone there to take us into their arms?
I am making yet another impromptu trip to spend as much time as possible with Herve.
I'll only be back in Paris the night before I leave, which means these (until Wednesday) are my last days in Paris.
I'm sort of dazed and confused, and about 80% in denial.
I was in Bretagne for the last few days, the jagged rocks of the wild atlantic coast. It was cloudy most of the time, but that didn't bother me. A wild smokey ocean is what maybe I like most of all. And the food, oh the food...I think between Bretagne and the Alps I've put on at least 4 kilos (8ish pounds). GUH.
Spent three blissful days in the Alps with Herve, his brother Norbert and his brother's girlfriend Aurelie. We also had dinner a couple of times with his Aunt and Uncle and their daughter, Virginie who has a tiny baby girl named Noami. Took adorable pictures of us all frolicking in the mountains.
Herve tried to teach me how to play the guitar and I tried to teach him a little bit of the piano. We made up little songs.
Went apricot picking with Aurelie while Herve and his brother and their dad worked on mounting the giant bay window in Herve's new house. We got chased away by wasps but pretended not to be afraid.
One morning during breakfast I saw Herve's father outside picking wildflowers which grow on the grassy hill outside of their home. Brilliant gold and pink. Later I saw these same flowers in a vase on the mantle in the living room, beside the collection of photographs of Herve's mother, who passed away four years ago. Herve told me that every evening on his way home from work his father visits his mother's grave. I looked at those flowers and I looked at this man in front of me with sincere gentle eyes and I looked out the window behind him over the hills to the village in the distance with its gray stone church tower towering above the houses with their red slate rooves. I started to cry and though all I could do was apologize he took me into his arms and sat with me on the couch until after some time we both fell asleep.
When did life become so complicated? When did we lose our hold on the simple integrity of our own sentiments? Why do we apologize when we cry? Why isn't there always someone there to take us into their arms?
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