This five-week long winter break has been a dizzying mixture of hissing at the Colorado cold, missing the people I love in California more than I knew I could, and mostly, a lot of nothing. However, I owe a large debt of gratitude for an introduction to Hulu’s classic movie section, and of course to the “Honest Library” on South Pearl Street for introducing me to undoubtably one of my new favorite books. Minus those, I’ve pretty much been, as my old coworkers have so lovingly described as, “rotting away in anticipation”.
Nevertheless, my routine will shortly be changed, as a week from today I’ll be spending my first day abroad in Paris. As much as I’ve originally romanticized it, I’ve quickly learned how many little errands and headaches come with the preparations. Mine haven’t come so much from the logistics of packing, saying goodbye to family, etc., but rather from the little things that come from the anticipation of a new country. One of my favorites is from the language barrier side of it, being that I recently learned my pronunciation of dog in French is somewhat incorrect: Instead of saying the proper chien, I’ve been saying chienne, instead meaning “bitch”. It was probably best to learn this before I go making small talk with the locals, saying something along the lines of “J’ai toujours voulu une chienne”, or I’ve always wanted a ….
Regardless, I can’t help but feel surges of excitement when I thinking of the upcoming semester. I’ve constantly found myself bound to the bubble of where I am in that moment, that being originally in my hometown of Denver, and then more recently to my newest home at Chapman. And when you’re in a bubble like those, it’s hard to see outside of it, even though the edges are transparent. As always, I’m electrified to see what’s coming ahead, for the idea of possibility, and for the opportunity to see what I would’ve never known what was there. However, I’m also primally terrified of it; of what I don’t know. But, then again, that’s also how I got here.
“I know already that I will return to this day whenever I want to. I can bid it alive. Preserve it. There is a still point where the present, the now, winds around itself, and nothing is tangled. The river is not where it begins or ends, but right in the middle point, anchored by what has happened and what is to arrive.”
-Colum McCann, Let The Great World Spin