I've been avoiding this blog. It's supposed to be a project to document my upcoming year in Paris, but even though I used to keep a blog about four or five years ago (more of a journal than anything else, to be honest) my efforts sort of trickled out after perhaps two years of self-indulgence, though I but recently deleted the account. It was because I had nothing to say, for in truth, I am not a very interesting person.
I am a scaredy-cat. I avoid unpleasant things, things that scare me, things that are difficult. This is why I speak to my father as little as possible, why I've never said the L word to my boyfriend and why I refused to take more college math classes than the one that was absolutely necessary for me to complete my GE. So of course the very first solution that comes to mind for getting this 'fraidy-cat out of her rut and into adulthood is moving to a foreign country where she'll be forced to juggle a full-time university schedule with a job on the side teaching English, making her tiny budget stretch harder than a sideshow contortionist and conviently placing both an entire continent and an ocean between herself and everyone who cares about her.
Well, at least I can truthfully say I'm not half-assing it.
Tomorrow's my appointment with the French consulate where, hopefully, I'll be able to get my long-stay visa with a minimum of fuss, considering the Major Drama that ensued when I tried to make my appointment.
Unsurprisingly, I'm scared. Not just that the appointment won't go smoothly, but for the packing and the budgeting and the paperwork and the leaving and the homesickness and most of all, for the possibility of failure. People keep asking me if I'm excited, and I'm not; I fluctuate wildly between a what the hell have I gotten myself into?-kind of fear and a grave self-assurance that if I just keep calm, I can make it. This year abroad isn't a lark for me—this is me trying to force myself to grow up because I can't help feeling that if I don't take this chance I never will. I'm 24 years old but I still feel and act like a teenager in a lot of ways.
First step I've taken out from under my mom's wing: I applied for, and got, financial aid for my year abroad, and that, combined with my salary as a teaching assistant, should cover all my expenses reasonably without requiring an infusion of cash from the Bank of M.O.M.—because while my finances may be in a shambles, my parents' are far, far, worse due to the bursting of the real estate bubble here in California. Even if they wanted to help me (which, in fact, they do) they couldn't; and I need to do this on my own, because I can't rely on them forever.
I don’t mean to sound melodramatic, if that’s the way I come off. Like most people, I have issues with parents and childhood awkwardness and insecurity, etc., ad nauseum. I’m just tired of being so damn cautious all the time. Not smart-cautious, like not walking in dark allies while tipsy at 3 a.m., but scared-cautious, where I hardly ever take risks or try new things. It’s my fervent hope that this year will not only help me to be stronger and more responsible, but also less afraid of taking risks and of adulthood in general.
I am a scaredy-cat. I avoid unpleasant things, things that scare me, things that are difficult. This is why I speak to my father as little as possible, why I've never said the L word to my boyfriend and why I refused to take more college math classes than the one that was absolutely necessary for me to complete my GE. So of course the very first solution that comes to mind for getting this 'fraidy-cat out of her rut and into adulthood is moving to a foreign country where she'll be forced to juggle a full-time university schedule with a job on the side teaching English, making her tiny budget stretch harder than a sideshow contortionist and conviently placing both an entire continent and an ocean between herself and everyone who cares about her.
Well, at least I can truthfully say I'm not half-assing it.
Tomorrow's my appointment with the French consulate where, hopefully, I'll be able to get my long-stay visa with a minimum of fuss, considering the Major Drama that ensued when I tried to make my appointment.
Unsurprisingly, I'm scared. Not just that the appointment won't go smoothly, but for the packing and the budgeting and the paperwork and the leaving and the homesickness and most of all, for the possibility of failure. People keep asking me if I'm excited, and I'm not; I fluctuate wildly between a what the hell have I gotten myself into?-kind of fear and a grave self-assurance that if I just keep calm, I can make it. This year abroad isn't a lark for me—this is me trying to force myself to grow up because I can't help feeling that if I don't take this chance I never will. I'm 24 years old but I still feel and act like a teenager in a lot of ways.
First step I've taken out from under my mom's wing: I applied for, and got, financial aid for my year abroad, and that, combined with my salary as a teaching assistant, should cover all my expenses reasonably without requiring an infusion of cash from the Bank of M.O.M.—because while my finances may be in a shambles, my parents' are far, far, worse due to the bursting of the real estate bubble here in California. Even if they wanted to help me (which, in fact, they do) they couldn't; and I need to do this on my own, because I can't rely on them forever.
I don’t mean to sound melodramatic, if that’s the way I come off. Like most people, I have issues with parents and childhood awkwardness and insecurity, etc., ad nauseum. I’m just tired of being so damn cautious all the time. Not smart-cautious, like not walking in dark allies while tipsy at 3 a.m., but scared-cautious, where I hardly ever take risks or try new things. It’s my fervent hope that this year will not only help me to be stronger and more responsible, but also less afraid of taking risks and of adulthood in general.
Wow, that was one hell-uv-a post. You worry to much, I'm sure you'll be fine claud. You don't give yourself nearly enough credit. Even though its still two weeks (and some change) away, Good luck, even though like I said before you wont need it.
ReplyDeleteP.S. even if something goes wrong just know your better off then Bart Simpson, you already know french. ;-P
Ma chérie,
ReplyDeleteNe t'inquiète pas! I know that you are going to do so well in Paris, and having the distance will allow you to acheive everything you want. And between the income from the job and financial aid, I am certain that you are going to have plenty of argent to get by!
Good luck! Im looking forward to hearing about your experiences in Paris!
<3 Graham