Skip to main content

wanderlust

I am going home tomorrow morning. This is a strange idea. It will be a stranger reality. I am glad to go home, glad to step away from this world for just a moment, to better see it new and fresh but familiar when I return. More than this, I am glad for my sister's wedding. Glad for the vows, the strange appearance of extended family members, the green skirt. Glad for seeing my brother and my mother and everyone. Glad for the twos-on-twos.

On the airplane, I will do my best to blitz through Samuel Richardson's Pamela. I will ignore the assigned readings of Foucault's "The Deployment of Sexuality," in part because I couldn't get it at the library and because I don't want to buy it, but most of all because I simply don't want to read it. I will read the essay by Adorno instead, and the chapter of Adorno and Horkheimer that I couldn't finish last night. I will listed to Rob D on my iPod. I will buy an overpriced sandwich in the airport. One of the airports. I will drink lots of coffee to leapfrog the timezones. I will think of all my friends in far away places, of all their travelling, and all my sitting still.

Until then, I should think about packing. I am taking some small gifts, almost unmentionable they are so inadequate for the occasion. And I am bringing home one pair of shoes. And I am bringing some clothes for the few days of running about, and a dress for the rehearsal dinner. (Is this cataloguing the result of reading Robinson Crusoe? I am so easily manipulated in my style. Oh dear...)

On a different note, I need some suggestions about where I should go during Christmas Break, and what I should do when I get there. Anyone have any ideas? I'm thinking Rome or Paris... or both. Or should I stay cheap and not wander far? Oxford... Manchester... Please feel free to suggest. I'm sure I'll bring the question up again closer to the season.

Until the bells are rung, the doves releases, and the tule removed from the construction zone, I will be silent. Enjoy my absence....

Comments

  1. Anonymous11 October, 2006 12:21

    I hate to disappoint but there will no bells or doves and (hopefully) an amazing lack of tulle as well.
    I am sooo excited for your coming! Have a fantabulous flight and trip and all that and I will see you Friday! Yay!

    ReplyDelete
  2. Anonymous11 October, 2006 14:15

    please go to oxford and take lots of winter pictures of my town for me. maybe i can come too? (yeah right).

    however...... where would jane austen go? I think perhaps Italy. Think Room with a View....

    ReplyDelete
  3. Wonder Jens11 October, 2006 15:03

    Go first somewhere much warmer in the south. Then go somewhere much colder in the north, so that coming back to Scotland the temperature will be just right.

    ReplyDelete
  4. Wonder Jens17 October, 2006 22:08

    I can't enjoy your absence anymore.

    My brain hurtz.

    ReplyDelete
  5. Unknown18 October, 2006 03:45

    i'm back.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

window in the sub

Dear Nathaniel, I am microwaving pie that Mom bought up in Oak Glen this week on her way home from the orthodontist. As I put it in the microwave, I was full of sadness that I was not in Oak Glen with her. Why did I not go? I was working. I want to see the trees turn. I want to wander slowly through autumnal gift shops. Under the water, you cannot sense the approach of the seasons. Even here it is difficult because, after all, it's California. But I can still sense it. After three seasons in Illinois and one in Scotland, it must be with me for good. Or at least for a while. Because I am all abuzz with eagerness for fall and winter, for turkeys and dried leaves and Santa. I should start cooking again this fall. Fall foods are my favorite. Baked squash dripping with melted butter and brown sugar, pumpkin soup... this year, if I have enough money, I will put together a holiday dinner for my friends. And we will drink Scandinavian mulled wine, which is the most wonderful thing I have e...
13 comments
Read more

At the close of nine years

I'm moving to Texas in less than two months. I've lived in Long Beach now for nine years. Already I have stacks of books covering my dining room table that I'll be reading for my PhD program in the fall. I've quietly begun the tedious work of sorting and cleaning everything in my little apartment. I'm scheduling all of my last days with friends, moving through my calendar in reverse order from when I expect to slip into my car and drive away. This is the longest I've lived in one place, so I've never really experienced a leaving quite like this before. I remember the day I left Wheaton, closing the bedroom door on my best friend, walking down to Chaeli's car so she could drive me to the airport. (The greatest grace of Texas is that she will be there. Some friends we never lose completely.) I remember leaving California for Scotland—walking away from my mother in the Palm Springs airport. We leave people who have changed us, and we leave places that ha...
1 comment
Read more