A wanderer’s mind

I’ve decided to set myself a challenge. As the NanNoWriMo ends and the Christmas count down begins, I figured I should combine the two and go on my own Writemas -or whatever you can call it- and write an article everyday until December 24th. Now I normally don’t write a lot, and one thing to know is that my finals are in two weeks, so I’ll try to keep up as best as I can but no promises right?

As I sit down in front of my computer and open a « New article » tab, a single question arises: what to write? Truth is, I have ideas, I am just not in the right mood to write them. But then I saw this video « Going on a roadtrip with a stranger » and I thought: this is it. On this melancholic Sunday evening, this is what I’m in the mood to write about.

I want to write about fantasies, about dreams of wild adventures, sunsets painting the sky in warm hues, frozen grass in the early morning. Of cartwheels in the open, meaningful conversations with a loved one at unbelievable hours, in an old-fashion diner at the corner of the road. I sometimes wish my life was different, that I wasn’t born in the city in this decade and country. I feel like I’m missing some part of life, but that might also be the influence of american television imposing standards of life to other cultures (wow what). Still, I wish it was summer and I could take my bike and go stargazing in the middle of a field near my grand mother’s house. I wish I could share this with someone other than my family, someone I would feel so comfortable with I wouldn’t have to worry about a single thing I say.

Instead I’m sitting on my chair, a shawl wrapped around my shoulders, painting my nails red and staying up to write this (future-self will hate me when the alarm will go off in the morning). Worrying seems to be what I’m the most talented at these days and it is tiring. Much less pleasant than dreaming, which I’ve not even had time to do lately. Life is crazy. Maybe this is why I’ve decided to write everyday. To remind me of what I am going through and what was and still is important to me above all else. So yeah, school is lowkey hell, my days are endless, but at least now I know what I work for and what I dream of and that is priceless.

Never surrender your wanderer’s soul.

Traffic lights and flickering stop signs

As someone I knew once wrote, « bus people and subway people were of a different breed ». And that was true. Bus people rhymed with pigeons, smoke, foreign languages, sunrises and sunsets, traffic lights and flickering stop signs. You could never know what to expect from the bus before leaving the house. I guess that applied to subway too, but I never took the subway during commute hours.

Spending approximately 2h commuting per day, I learned to appreciate the beauty in it. I couldn’t simply stop at complaining about the smell, the crowd and the lateness. So I found a loophole. Used this time to discover new music and observe people, to empty my mind and focus on the little things. There was nothing like the sun rising behind the buildings in a pink and cloudy sky, the bus empty, soft music playing in my ears. It was almost a religious experience.

There were also those late rides, when I had studied all day and took extra time after my classes to work on something or teach the first year students. Those rides when the night had already settled on the city, and the word was beginning to finally quiet down. Those rides where the bus was a moving capsule of light in the dark streets, and the stop-sign flickered, at once eerie and peaceful.

And then there were the moments in between, the waiting at the bus stop while your breath formed tiny clouds of fog, the tree leaves projecting large, moving shadows on the building walls.

People took the bus, and I seemed to recognize more and more of them as time went by.

You had the young man in the red hat, always listening to music and sitting in the very back, impulsively crossing the road. The blonde lady with her stroller and her baby. The other student from the school next to mine who never seemed to share the same schedule as mine but somehow ended up in my bus. The kids from my old high school. The small man in a hoodie. The lady who hopped off the bus at the hospital stop suggesting she was a researcher, but definitely looked like a ballerina with her hair up and her straight back (not that it was incompatible though). And the families, the fathers, the workers and students, the tourists and friends, the grandparents and children that I only saw once and never again.

So much life was happening inside the bus.

Source: http://www.incidentalcomics.com/2019/11/iridescence.html


Busy and important

If my past self from 3 years ago thought her year had been busy, she would not believe what I’m doing now.

Every adult around me always told me it would get busier and busier as I grew older. And part of me refused to believe that. How could someone be busier than I already am, I thought. I had no idea.

Last year felt like a continuity of high school. Going to school all day, everyday, homework and weekly exams. This year feels like prépa. Like real, intense, 2e année de prépa. All of the above plus trying to stay on top of my work because of the stake of next year’s abroad semester, while finally embracing the student life: going out, getting to know other people more, making friends, going to dance class…

As if this wasn’t enough, add in my first small job as tutor, me trying to figure out how to access my bank accounts and re-enroll at uni, finding an internship for June, finding a university abroad where I will spend nearly 6 months of my cursus, travelling with my family, joining a club (who volunteered to spend lunch breaks making crêpes to raise funds? That’s me) and keeping in touch with my high school friends.

Let’s say that 16 year-old me balancing dance, getting a driving licence and high school had no idea. That little 17 year-old me balancing that huge dance project and Vietnam trip with the bac and finding a career path had no idea.

I’ve been on holidays for three days now and we are leaving to Prague tomorrow morning for four days, then a weekend and school starts again. No rest for the wicked huh?