Wednesday, February 11th. 3:47 am. My room.
Today was just one of those beautiful, simple days. It could have easily happened at any time of the year, or any day of the week, but I suddenly realized that I was living here. And that what I was doing wasn't an event that I planned (or didn't). Today, I lived a day in my life, and yesterday, I did too. And tomorrow will be my life. Whether I liked it, or whether I wanted it to turn out this way is not important, because this life is the one I've got and is the one that makes me what I am. Not vice versa. My life's doings don't create me. My life just happens, and I am a principal character in whatever is around me. Which is, to say, the intersection of everyone else's lives with mine. Theirs are worthy and charmed too.
I live here now, and it's a wonderful thing. My life would have happened in Maryville or Brentwood, or at any other French university for that matter. What's even more remarkable is that I have realized this. I think it's good, anyways. I mean, I can only change the future. That's something we've been telling ourselves often- it's a freeing statement. Try saying it outloud sometime. But -- being in this production and living -- is that the same as "changing" your future? Food for thought, definitely.
For now, I will continue to fall deeper in love with being a novelty and everything else being a novelty to me. After nearly three miniscule weeks, I don't think I can ever tire of learning about the new cracks and crevices to being a Reunionnaise. At the same time, I maintain my frienships back home. It's odd how some of them are slightly prodding and poking me all the way over here. It gives a nice dichotemy to my two, seemingly parallel worlds, that, to anyone else, would seem to be 180 degrees apart (yes, try to figure that out in your mind's eye-- that's what I get for writing at 3:52 am). I love it a lot- both the writing and the thinking. Cathartic.
The cyclone is over (the heat is back), the ocean is 34 shades of blue again, and I am living. More to come. There always is.
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Chelsea- how serendipitous that I should stumble upon your perspective of a life my own little ship sails towards. Thank you dearly for taking the time and making the effort to share; your beautiful entries give traction to otherwise abstract wishing. I have a million questions but will soak up your reflections on paradise at Université de la Réunion. merci beaucoup...
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