I've decided -
How many of my posts include that phrase...when the problem is that I can't stop deciding and start doing. So...how are you? Anyone still out there in the void? Anyone ever out there in the first place? I can only imagine that as the words pile up so will the eyes reading them.
I would include an illustration but that's some spasm-inducing spine-tingling imagery.
Today was the first day I left my room in a week. And I'm sure I've done the same with less discomfort many times back home, but here, it's different. In California the sun is always shining through the window, whereas right now it's the dead of winter in Northern France. At least, I hope it's the dead of winter, because if it gets worse from here on out...I'm gonna need a bigger coat.
The shades on my windows are electronic, which is impressive at first, but grows old the first time the power goes out and you realize you can't open your windows. And finally, in fake house arrest (and probably real as well) you learn to be very vocal about everything, even if no one can hear you - precisely because no one can hear you...and any noise, even a weird grunt as you flip your grilled cheese sandwich, is better than silence.
So today I ventured back into the world at the end of reading week, taking out an embarrassing amount of trash to the trash...thing. It's a row of three small deposit...boxes? One for glass bottles, one for plastic, and another for good old trash, and you'd wonder how the waste of around 300 people could fit in these tiny boxes, but one day I arrived at the residence as the trash truck was doing its business, and a crane emerged from the back of the truck and lifted the boxes away and lo and behold underneath each of those boxes is a metal container maybe two stories tall...and then you remember that sometimes the trash bin still overflows and you shudder and run to your room to wash it all away in alternately scalding and freezing shower water.
After my shift at the library, my collaborative project group took a bus to the city center for our weekly séances. We don't speak with ghosts, but it's close enough. We teach some children about cinema as part of their after-school activities. This week they're starting to write their stories, which we'll make into a short film. The final séance is next week, and then the hair-pulling insomnia-inducing fun of preproduction can begin. I'm really looking forward to it.
But after a week of zero human interaction, an hour with a group of children was exactly what I needed to recharge my batteries...and welcome to the origin story of the creepily vain fairytale stepmother.
An hour has gone by...my final is now in six hours. Still not sleepy. It'll hit me like a brick wall in a few hours...and I haven't even started telling you about my stupid decision to start an 80+ episode Taiwanese drama on Saturday.
For once, I'm dreaming of going home - both Los Angeles and Taipei, rather than leaving it.
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