It's 1:29 a.m. meaning that the city has just begun to quiet down. Although I can guarantee that at least one more car alarm will go off before the morning, I know that I have about three hours of as close to silence as I can get here. This is always the time where I try to force myself to sleep, to block every thought from my mind so that maybe I will fall into unconsciousness before the birds and the cats begin their early morning spring time battles outside my bedroom window.
But I haven't updated in a while, so here I sit.
Progress is sometimes a slow moving thing. I've made a few more friends, all of which are somehow American, but regardless we all had a pretty good time together. I have an orientation scheduled at the Ministry of Stories, something that I am beyond excited about. And on Tuesday my professor told me that she thinks the story I submitted to class is of a publishable standard. Progress may be slow, but its progress nonetheless.
I find myself dreaming of the familiar, only set within the unfamiliar. I dream of my family and summer vacations, except we are never in a place we've been before. It's always unusual. And just last night I dreamed that I was with the most wonderful Rachel Baransi, in Mexico, sitting on an enormous marble patio. We were laying on beach towels, sweating in the sun, while little tanned and naked babies were lingering all around. Rachel kept telling me how wonderful Mexico could be, while I smiled and stared at the children's darkened bellies.
I'm dreaming of everything I want in one place. The adventure of the unknown with the comfort of the familiar. How wonderful would that be?
Except it is, almost, possible for this to happen. I skyped with my love Kara the other day and was able to see her two gorgeous children. Lilya's getting so big and baby gabbed for me, and I even got to witness one of Aiden's full blown Tasmanian devil tantrums. Today I received an email from Matty, and even though its been weeks since we've spoken, he was able to say everything that I was thinking without even trying. And then there's facebook, the looming, growing, monster of the social media. I'm fairly positive that facebook has actually managed to cause Emily Lease and I to fall in love (don't deny it Emily) and it allows me to send videos to people, because even if I can't see them it somehow makes me feel closer if I know they can see me. Technology has it's perks.
Hopefully a job will be the next step in my slow progression here. Applications have become daunting and enjoying everything this city has to offer has become expensive. But the sun is shining more and the rain is pouring less and soon it will be warm enough for sandals and picnics and pitchers of PIMMS. Soon it will be the season of park sleeping, and park reading, and park writing, and park anything. Soon it will be the season of my visitors: my mother, and hoards of friends, and then eventually the best friends of all, my siblings.
But before any of that it's Paris in April. The chunnel and hostel living and museums and wine and wine and wine. Then it will be Chicago in June (fingers cross) for intellectual stimulation, writing collaboration, and a respectable amount of shopping.
The progress is slow moving, but anything's better than stagnant water.
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