Tumblr just wasn’t the same…

And lately I haven’t been keeping up with writing like I’ve used to. Things have changed a bit since the last time I wrote…some quick updates:

I moved to Norway (again). I am currently spending a semester in Oslo as an exchange student at BI Norwegian School of Management. It’s quite different from Franklin, but I’m trying to enjoy this experience for what it is. I’m getting the opportunity to live my attend-a-big/prestigeous-university dream–but I also realize how right Franklin is for me. Here, I feel so lost and things lose their meaning. Outside of building 24, nobody knows my name: not the professors, not the students. I miss that environment where I get individual attention from a professor, or walk from Panera 7 to Panera 12 in nothing but a towel. I miss the intimacy of school. I can’t imagine how it would’ve been if I had gone to a UC. I think they would open my dorm room at the end of the semester to find some skeletons in front of a computer, haha.

Fortunately, it’s a nice bunch living on the first floor of Kringsjå 24, and when I’m not spending time away from Oslo I really do enjoy staying home and chatting around. But I’ve also been keeping myself quite busy. In fact, I have yet to spend a weekend in Oslo. Between trips to Switzerland and random excursions I would say I am pretty lucky to be so mobile. I’ve had the chance to river raft up in Oppland, and last weekend I was at the Ankomstleir for the new generation of AFSers in Norway.

I feel as if I’m in a current, and time is pushing me from boulder to boulder. My time as an AFSer in Norway has passed, and even if I stay connected with the organization, with Horten, with Norway, with my family, it’s a year that I can’t relive again. I can’t bring back the togetherness that we felt as a group–the togetherness that I could see forming this past weekend. I can’t bring back Francesco and Balázs to Siljan, Tilly and Marie to Asker, Xenia and Yanzi to Drammen, Doug to Sandvika, or Jessica to Gol. They were my group. And we will never be in those exact same places at the exact same time again. I feel like more than anything, it was the feeling of being estranged and isolated that brought us together–our year in Norway clenched us tightly in its palm, but let us go as we swam our individual routes back to California, Winchester, Normandie, Henan, Lombardia, Hungary, Treviso.

I see these new faces, from Minnesota, China, Belgium, Japan, Germany, the Czech Republic, and I really want to be together with them. I want to feel like I did two years ago, be together with them…but something prevents me from doing so. I’m on the other side of a bridge that has collapsed behind me, and they must rebuild it up from their side. I really miss that year, even now. But there is so much emotional toll that I don’t think I can do it again. So don’t underestimate a high-school exchange student’s experience…it’s a lot more powerful than you imagine.

But back to the present: tomorrow I have Business Communication in French, which I’m dreading because it’s so incredibly boring, despite the professional name. I’m thinking of not even attending the latter two hours, where we learn something superficial about each French department and fill out some worksheets. I get more stimulation from smoothing knots in my hair. I think there comes a point where you can no longer learn a language by just sitting in the classroom, and I think the only way for me to work on my French is to use it in la vie quotidienne.

And oh yeah, one pretty big piece of news since the last time I wrote: I’m happily taken, if the pictures to the side haven’t given it away to you already. In fact, I’m flying back to Switzerland again (for the third time in two months–these long-distance relationships sure do rack up the bills) on Thursday to spend a long weekend with him. Perhaps one day I’ll write about what happened during the in-between, but right now I still like telling about it in person. Who knew that it would happen this way? Life is wonderful and exciting. I would know, look where it has taken me: to Switzerland, and to my love. <3

Penultimate

De temps en temps, Life likes to kick you in the ass hard. Yesterday was a—how to say it nicely—en helt jævla dag: a hellish blend of bad rapport, lack of sleep, and hjemlengsel. And as much as I try to make the best of everything, there are just those days where nothing goes. Men derfra finnes det ingen annen vei enn oppover, og idag gikk det bedre.

So I should probably share a bit about our current situation. The twenty of us Region 2 AFSers are currently at Holtenkilen Folkehøgskole for our avskjedsleir, a short gathering before we disband and fly back to our respective countries.

There is a dock that is a couple of minutes’ walking distance from the school. Balázs—who I was fortunate enough to room with—and I have been swimming there every day. It’s a very special thing to be out there, your head rested on the water, looking upside-down at the blue and peach horizon and the boats sprinkled along the shore. It makes me wish I had an underwater housing for my camera…or a Ziploc bag.
We went swimming today together with Doug, Phil, Anıl, and Kevin during the onset of a coming thunderstorm. Have you ever seen lightning while swimming in the ocean? Thrilling, awe-inspiring, and probably not the smartest thing to do. And when we got out we were treated to a scene reminiscent of Laura Pausini’s “Primavera Anticipada”: a display of yellowed leaves drifting off with the wind.

These precious final moments tick by:

All of Balázs’ silly shenanigans. I will come to miss him dearly. This guy is one in a million. It doesn’t matter how I’m feeling, he always manages to cheer me up. And I can tell him anything and everything with no drama or hang-ups.

Attempting an amateur photo shoot with Yanzi: jumping off the bench, somersaults across the meadow, swinging by the seaside. We laughed until our sides hurt and it was wonderful.

An ephemeral moment with Diego, enjoying “Is It True?” in silence.

Comforting Elaine, mind reeling back to all our shared moments in Horten: days together with Gayoung of Korean movies and beaches and homemade cakes.

Singing to the passing cars on E-18 and sleeping outside on a bench with a pillow and blanket, an empty vast sky above decorated with one lonely star.

Pappa saying “Gutten min.”

And looking at that, I can see that things change, and things also change back—for good or for worse. Nothing is stagnant—relationships and alliances the least of all, as I have learned. And the repercussions don’t slip by unnoticed.

The storm has not yet gone over the horizon.

La Solitudine

I feel so out of touch with people. Honestly, bonding is a concept that has eluded me for years. Growing up, I always secretly wondered if I was genuinely socially retarded. (In fact, I still do sometimes, but only to humor myself now.)

See, I didn’t really have friends in elementary school. I moved to the United States when I was 6 years old. The only English word I knew then was “dog.” (I learned “cat” a couple of months later, I think.) And I couldn’t even pronounce it right. And it’s pretty hard to get friends at that age if you can’t even keep somebody’s attention.

I suppose it was quite hard on my mom too, she didn’t have any friends either. In fact, I have no idea what she preoccupied herself with in those days before she had a job and I was at school. We learned to lean on each other.

Anyway, a lot of unpleasant things happened after I moved to the US, and while I don’t blame those reasons for everything that is wrong with my life, they affected me very negatively–inverted my personality, if you will. I became very shy, very cautious, and very self-conscious as I grew up.

Our family didn’t have any play-dates, and during recess I would busy myself at the tetherball pole. I would always buy my lunch and sit with the other kids, but only to sit with them. I was the wallflower…that wore immigrant clothes. (“Why wouldn’t you want to wear these clothes? They’re top quality, and cost so much in China! The American kids at school will never get the chance to wear something like this!”) And at home, of course, there was nobody else around–Mom had enrolled herself in beauty school. I was alone every day; I learned to entertain myself.

I think that fostered a lot of my traits. I learned to like being alone, and to this day I still do–being around people for an extended period of time still tires me out. By myself, I could be myself. I could sing as loud as I wanted, I could cry at cheesy lines in movies, I could walk around and not worry about how big the slits of my eyes are right then and there, and I could dream. (And dream did I ever! I was the hopeless romantic. Too much time alone and your mind starts creating hallucinations on its own.) I learned to be individual, and to like what I like and not be influenced by what other people think I should like. (My favorite music artist in junior high? Tori Amos.) But I also learned to appreciate friendship and togetherness because I so rarely felt it. I loved watching Friends because in a really twisted and pathetic way, I didn’t have any and they relieved me of my loneliness. And I still like romantic comedies the best–but for other reasons now.

There’s lots of bad things that came with the solitude: I was very out of touch with my contemporaries–and walking around with dyed bangs and a tweed jacket sure didn’t alleviate me from my condition–which brings me to my current déjà vu. I’ve always found it so difficult to really get to know a person. In fact, I downright dread it when people ask me, “So, what do you like to do?” Well, I like singing, learning languages, trying new foods and drinks, and having the occasional frolick with men twice my age. What about you? Sports, chicks, video-games, cars? Cool!

I’m going to do a little thought-trainhopping now by asking this: Have you ever wondered what exactly keeps people together? I’m sure you’re friends with your friends for different reasons: similar interests, similar experiences, or maybe just because you live close to each other. It’s kind of scary to think about how fragile a relationship can be. Sometimes, I feel like it’s not enough.

Well, if you read this far, congratulations. I don’t think I had a point in writing this post other than to just get some personal history out. I don’t remember when it became so much harder to express myself. Blogging much easier back in junior high. I was angsty then. Now I’m just humdrummy and–well, as of right now–in dire lack of sleep.