I arrive at the airport late at night and am greeted by an old friend who has agreed to pick me up. The airport is almost empty and my arrival is not grandiose. Although I feel like it is monumental to be back home I am glad that there is no one there to congratulate me or celebrate my return. I can’t quite get a sense of the things I am feeling, or if I even still feel. I am trying hard to grab at any emotional change in order to put some kind of label on the experience of being back. I am not successful however so I remain in a null state. This state remains for weeks, maybe months, before I start to think maybe there is still a person, or part of a person, that I recognize banging around inside of me. I am still confused why everything is so melodramatic. I have traveled so much before and never come back feeling so strange, but this time is different, this time changed me I guess, a lot.
I have all the time in the world, but getting anything done feels like trying to run under water. I move back into my childhood room after several weeks of throwing stuff away. I go through my stuff from San Francisco, then through everything else but I just throw all it away. Then I go through all the excess things that my parents decided to store in my room while I was gone, which are still taking up the entire hallway. I paint over, throw away, re-upholster, and re-cover anything that remained from before. Nothing is the same. It can’t be the same.
My experiences and memories nag at my mind reminding me that I did actually do what I just thought I did. I start to realize this trip has become part of me, not just something that happened, but rather something that has seeped into my body like a sponge passing through water. I feel the water still dripping out of me as I am pulled out of the water, still heavy and full and in flux.
I start working pretty soon after my return, strangely in a job that I love. I work in a basement sewing for a start- up athletic apparel company. There are two of us. My boss is roughly my age and has a Masters in fine arts-sculpture and got his undergraduate in San Francisco. Needless to say we have a lot in common. I meet up with old friends, I visit my grandma, I sleep with my kitty. I meet up with Jessi and I am reminded of what a deep and amazing friendship we have. After following each other around the world for 7 months there is something unspoken and unbreakable present. It requires a fair amount of grit to not only endure the struggles of traveling third world (pardon the term) but also to endure your companion enduring the world. She was a joy and a support throughout the trip and she always managed to make me laugh. If it weren’t for her fierce ideals and tenacious aptitude to put them in motion this trip would have never happened nor been so successful. Thanks for everything Jessi!!
Things are starting to take motion, ever so slowly. I must re-build a life and I feel good starting a new phase. I’ll be taking the GRE sometime in 2012 and applying to math graduate programs for the following academic year 2013. Meanwhile I’ll just be working and trying to get back on my feet, taking advantage of the freedom I have to do art and fashion and anything else that runs across my path. I imagine I’ll be in Denver just as soon as my wallet allows it. So far there has been no shortage of good people and fun times so I’d say things are looking pretty good.
I have all the time in the world, but getting anything done feels like trying to run under water. I move back into my childhood room after several weeks of throwing stuff away. I go through my stuff from San Francisco, then through everything else but I just throw all it away. Then I go through all the excess things that my parents decided to store in my room while I was gone, which are still taking up the entire hallway. I paint over, throw away, re-upholster, and re-cover anything that remained from before. Nothing is the same. It can’t be the same.
My experiences and memories nag at my mind reminding me that I did actually do what I just thought I did. I start to realize this trip has become part of me, not just something that happened, but rather something that has seeped into my body like a sponge passing through water. I feel the water still dripping out of me as I am pulled out of the water, still heavy and full and in flux.
I start working pretty soon after my return, strangely in a job that I love. I work in a basement sewing for a start- up athletic apparel company. There are two of us. My boss is roughly my age and has a Masters in fine arts-sculpture and got his undergraduate in San Francisco. Needless to say we have a lot in common. I meet up with old friends, I visit my grandma, I sleep with my kitty. I meet up with Jessi and I am reminded of what a deep and amazing friendship we have. After following each other around the world for 7 months there is something unspoken and unbreakable present. It requires a fair amount of grit to not only endure the struggles of traveling third world (pardon the term) but also to endure your companion enduring the world. She was a joy and a support throughout the trip and she always managed to make me laugh. If it weren’t for her fierce ideals and tenacious aptitude to put them in motion this trip would have never happened nor been so successful. Thanks for everything Jessi!!
Things are starting to take motion, ever so slowly. I must re-build a life and I feel good starting a new phase. I’ll be taking the GRE sometime in 2012 and applying to math graduate programs for the following academic year 2013. Meanwhile I’ll just be working and trying to get back on my feet, taking advantage of the freedom I have to do art and fashion and anything else that runs across my path. I imagine I’ll be in Denver just as soon as my wallet allows it. So far there has been no shortage of good people and fun times so I’d say things are looking pretty good.
